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THE   LIFE    AND    WORDS    OF    CHRIST. 


gig  tbc  ^nmt  ^utljor. 

The   Life  and   Words  of  Christ.     Illustrated  Edition.     With  a 
Series  of  40  Full-paged  Plates  printed  on  Plate  Paper.     2  Vols., 
large  8vo,  cloth.     Price  24?. 
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Students'  Edition.     2  Vols.     12s.  Qd. 

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Christ."— Dr.  Delitzach. 

"A  work  of  profound  learning.  I  would  not  willingly  be  without  it." — Tht 
Arclhbishop  of  York. 

OLD  TESTAMENT   COMPLETE. 

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read  what  has  beea  to  ourselves  a  truly  delightful  work.''— Ocan  Alford. 
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E(V3'i>/i.  Chuvchman. 

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Entiioly  distinct  from  "  The  Life  and  Words  of  Christ." 


LONDON:  JAMES  NISBET  &  CO. 


THE    LIFE 


AND 


WORDS    OE    CHRIST 


BY 


CUNNINGHAM    ^IKIE,   D.D.,   LL.D.  (Edin.), 

late  Vicar  of  St.  Martin-at-Palace,  l^'orwich. 


HEW  EDITION. 


'Thb  life  was  trk  Light  of  Men." 

-  John  i.  4. 


ILontion: 

JAMES     NISBET     &     CO. 
21,   BERNERS   STREET. 

MDCCCXn. 


BDTr,BR  &  Tanner, 
The  Selwood  Pbinting  Works, 

I'liOilE,   ANB    LONDOH. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.     Intkoductoey 


II.  The  Holy  Land 

III.  Palestine  at  the  Time  of  Curist 

IV.  TuE  Keign  of  Heeod 

V.  The  Jewish  Woeld  at  the  Time  of  Cheist 

VI.  The  Eabbis  at   the    Time   ce    Christ,    and    their 

respecting  the  Messiah 

VII.  Birth  of  John  the  Baptist 

VIII.  The  Announcement  to  Mary 

IX.  The  Birth  of  Christ  .... 

X.  At  Bethlehem 

XI.  The  Magi 

XII.  Nazareth,  and  the  Early  Days  of  Jesus 

XIII.  Early  Boyhood 

XIV.  Social  Influences        .... 
XV.  The  Passover  Visit  to  Jerus.\lem 

XVI.  Early  Years 

XVII.  Life  under  the  Law  .         . 

XVIII.  JUDEA    under    ArCHELAUS    and    PiOME       . 

XIX.  The  Koman  Procurators 

XX.  Herod  Antipas  and  Christ's  own  Country 

XXI.  The  Galiljeans  and  the  Border  Lands 

XXII.  Before  the  Dawn         .         . 

XXIII.  The  Kingdom  op  Heaven  is  at  Hand  . 

XXIV.  The  Voice  in  the  Wilderness   . 


Ideas 


PAGES 

1-9 
10-16 
16-27 
27-iO 
41-47 

47-53 

53-66 

66-73 

73-80 

80-87 

87-9'J 

99-112 

112-127 

127-136 

136-147 

147-155 

155-165 

165-181 

181-189 

190-197 

197-206 

206-221 

221-235 

235-24U 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTFR 

PAGES 

XXV. 

The  New  Pkophet  in  the  Wilderness 

246-259 

XXVI. 

The  Baptism  of  Jests  and  the  Death  of  John 

.       2C0-276 

XXVII. 

The  Temptation 

.       270-287 

XXVIII. 

The  Retuen  fkom  the  Wilderness    . 

.       287-3''0 

XXIX. 

The  Opening  of  Christ's  Purlic  Ministry 

.       300-313 

XXX. 

Visit  to  Jerusalem      ..... 

.       314-324 

XXXI. 

From  Jerusalem  to  Samaria 

.      325-340 

XXXII. 

Opening  of  the  Ministry  in   Galilue 

.       340-348 

XXXIII. 

Capernaum     ....... 

.       348-359 

XXXIV. 

Light  and  Darkness 

.       359-373 

XXXV. 

The  Choice    of  the    Twelve,  and   the    Seriio 
Mount    

N     ON 

THI 

.       374-385 

XXXVI. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  {continued )     . 

.       385-394 

XXXVII. 

The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  {concluded )     . 

.      394  408 

XXXVIII. 

Open  Conflict 

.       406-417 

XXXIX. 

Galilee          ....... 

.       418-420 

XL. 

Darkening  Shadows — Life  in  Galil'je 

.      426-435 

XLI. 

The  Bursting  op  the  Storm       .... 

433-410 

XLII. 

After  the  Storm          

.      446-457 

XLIII. 

Dark  and  Bright 

.      457-470 

XLIV. 

The  Turn  of  the  Day         .... 

.       470-485 

XLV. 

The  Coasts  of  the  Heathen 

.       485-496 

XL  VI. 

In  Flight  once  more  ..... 

.      496-507 

XLVII. 

The  Transfiguration 

.      508-517 

XLVIII. 

Before  the  Feast        .        .        . 

.      517-527 

XLIX. 

At  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles    . 

527-538 

L. 

After  the  Feast 

.      539-547 

LI. 

547-557 

LII. 

A  Wandering  Life 

.      557-569 

LIII. 

In  Perea       ....... 

.      569-584 

LIV. 

In  Perea  {continued) 

584-601 

LV. 

Palm   Sunday         

.      601-615 

LVI. 

Jerusalem     .        .        ,        t        .         •        . 

.      616-626 

LVII. 

The  Interval        .         .        .        .        . 

626-640 

CONTENTS  vii 

CIIVrTEtt  PAGES 

LVin.  Farewell  to  FiuExna .         .  010-055 

LIX.  The  Farewell 655-009 

LX.  The  Arrest 603-079 

LXI.  The  Jewish  Trial 679-688 

LXII.  Before  Pilate 688-70i 

LXIII.  Judas— The  Crucifixion 704-720 

LXIV.  The  Eesurrection  and  the  Forty  Days    ....  720-739 


THE  LIFE  OP  CHEIST. 


-♦-•»^- 


CHAPTEE  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

t  I  THE  life  of  Jcsns  Christ,  which  is  to  be  told  in  these  pages,  must  ever 
-*-  remain  the  noblest  and  most  fruitful  study  for  all  men,  of  every  age. 
It  is  admitted,  even  by  those  of  other  faiths,  that  He  Tvas  at  once  a  great 
Teacher,  and  a  living  illustration  of  the  truths  He  taught.  The  jMahometan 
Avorld  give  Him  the  high  title  of  MasMi  (Messiah),  and  set  Him  above  all 
the  prophets.  The  Jews  confess  admiration  of  His  character  and  words, 
as  exhibited  in  the  Gospels.  Nor  is  there  anj^  hesitation  among  the  great 
intellects  of  different  ages,  whatever  their  sjiecial  position  towards  Chris- 
tianity ;  whether  its  humble  disciples,  or  openly  opposed  to  it,  or  carelessly 
indifferent,  or  vaguely  latitudinarian. 

We  all  know  how  lowly  a  reverence  is  paid  to  Him  in  passage  after 
passage  by  Shakspere,  the  greatest  intellect  known,  in  its  wide,  n;auy. 
sided  splendour.  Men  like  Galileo,  Kepler,  Bacon,  Newton,  and  Milton, 
set  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  above  every  other.  To  show  that  no  other 
subject  of  stud}-  can  claim  an  equal  interest,  Jean  Paul  Richtcr  tells  us 
that  "  the  life  of  Christ  concerns  Him  who,  being  the  holiest  among  the 
mighty,  the  mightiest  among  the  holy,  lifted  with  His  pierced  hand 
empires  off  their  hinges,  and  turned  the  stream  of  centuries  out  of  its 
channel,  and  still  governs  the  ."ges."  Spinoza  calls  Christ  the  symbol  of 
Divine  wisdom ;  Kant  and  Jacobi  hold  Him  up  as  the  sjanbol  of  ideal 
perfection,  and  Schelling  and  Hegel  as  that  of  the  union  of  the  divine  and 
human.  "I  esteem  the  Gospels,"  says  Goethe,  "to  be  thoroughly  genuino, 
for  thci'c  shines  forth  from  them  the  reflected  splendour  of  a  sul)limity, 
proceeding  from  the  })L'rson  of  Jesus  Christ,  of  so  divine  a  kind  as  only  the 
Divine  could  ever  have  manifested  upon  earth."  "  How  petty  are  the 
books  of  the  philosophers,  with  all  their  pomp,"  says  Rousseau,  "  com- 
pared with  the  Gospels  !  Can  it  be  that  Avritings  at  once  so  sublime  and 
so  simple  are  the  work  of  men  .P  Can  He  whose  life  they  tell  be  Himself 
no  more  than  a  mere  man?  Is  there  anything,  in  His  character,  of  the 
enthusiast  or  the  amljitious  sectary  ?  Wliat  sweetness,  what  purity  in  His 
ways,  what  touching  grace  in  His  teachings  !  What  a  loftiness  in  His 
maxims,  what  profound  wisdom  in  His  words  !  What  presence  of  mind, 
what  delicacy  and  aptness  in    His  replies  !     What  an  empii-e  over  His 

B 


2  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

passions  !  AVhere  is  tlie  man,  wliere  is  the  sage,  wlio  knows  how  to  act,  to 
suffer,  and  to  die  without  weakness  and  without  display  ?  My  friend,  men 
do  not  invent  Hke  this  ;  and  the  facts  respecting  Socrates,  which  no  one 
doubts,  are  not  so  well  attested  as  those  about  Jesus  Christ.  These  Jews 
could  never  have  struck  this  tone,  or  thought  of  this  morality,  and  the 
Gospel  has  characteristics  of  truthfulness  so  grand,  so  striking,  so  per- 
fectly inimitable,  that  their  inventors  vfould  be  even  more  wonderful  than 
He  whom  they  portray.  Yes,  if  the  dearth  of  Socrates  be  that  of  a  sage, 
the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  are  those  of  a  God." 

Thomas  Carlyle  repeatedly  expresses  a  similar  reverence.  "  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,''  says  he,  "our  divinest  symbol !  Higher  has  the  human  thought 
not  yet  reached."  "  A  symbol  of  quite  perennial,  infinite  character,  whose 
significance  will  ever  demand  to  be  anew  inquired  into,  and  anev,r  niade 
manifest."  Dr.  Clianning,  of  Boston,  the  foremost  man  in  his  day  among 
American  Unitarians,  is  equally  marked  in  his  words.  "  The  character  of 
Jesus,"  says  he,  "  is  wholly  inexplicable  on  human  principles."  Matthias 
Claudius,  one  of  the  peojile's  poets  of  Germany,  last  century,  writes  to  a 
friend,  "  No  one  ever  thus  loved  [as  Christ  did],  nor  did  anytliing  so  truly 
great  and  good  as  the  Bible  tells  us  of  Him  ever  enter  into  the  heart  of 
man.  It  is  a  holy  form  which  I'ises  before  the  poor  pilgrim  like  a  star  in 
the  night,  and  satisfies  his  innermost  craving,  his  most  secret  yearnings 
and  hopes."  "  Jesus  Christ,"  says  the  exquisite  genius,  Herder,  "  is  in 
the  noblest,  and  most  perfect  sense,  the  realized  ideal  of  humanity." 

No  one  will  accuse  the  first  Napoleon  of  being  either  a  pietist,  or  weak- 
minded.  He  strode  the  world  in  his  day  like  a  Colossus,  a  man  of  gigantic 
intellect,  however  Avortliless  and  depraved  in  a  moral  sense.  Conversing 
one  day,  at  St.  Helena.,  as  his  custom  was,  about  the  great  men  of  antiquity, 
and  comparing  himself  with  them,  he  suddenly  turned  round  to  one  of  his 
suite  and  asked  him,  "  Can  you  tell  me  who  Jesus  Christ  was  ?  "  The 
ofiicer  owned  that  he  liad  not  yet  taken  much  thought  of  such  things. 
"  YleW,  then,"  said  Napoleon,  "  I  will  tell  you."  He  then  compared  Christ 
with  himself,  and  with  the  heroes  of  antiquity,  and  showed  how  Jesus  far 
surpassed  them.  "  I  think  I  understand  somewhat  of  human  nature,"  he 
continued,  "  and  I  tell  you  all  these  were  men,  and  I  am  a  man,  Ijut  not 
one  is  like  Him  ;  Jesus  Christ  was  more  tban  man.  Alexander,  Cassar, 
Charlemagne,  and  myself,  founded  great  empires  ;  but  upon  what  did  the 
creations  of  our  genius  depend  ?  Upon  force.  Jesus  alone  founded  His 
empire  upon  love,  and  to  this  very  day  millions  woixld  die  for  Him." 
"  The  Gospel  is  no  mere  book,"  said  he  at  another  time,  "  but  a  living 
creature,  with  a  vigour,  a  povfcr,  Avhich  conquers  all  that  opposes  it.  Here 
lies  the  Book  of  Books  upon  the  table  [touching  it  reverently]  ;  I  do  not 
tire  of  reading  it,  and  do  so  daily  with  equal  pleasure.  The  soul,  charmed 
Avitli  the  beauty  of  the  Gospel,  is  no  longer  its  own  :  God  possesses  it 
entirely  :  He  directs  its  thoughts  and  faculties  ;  it  is  His.  What  a  proof 
of  the  divinity  of  Jesus  Christ !  Yet  in  this  absolute  sovereignty  He  has 
but  one  aim — the  spiritual  perfection  of  the  individual,  the  inirification  of 
his  conscience,  his  union  with  what  is  tiaie,  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  Men 
wonder  at  the  conquests  of  Alexander,  but  here  is  a  conqueror  who  draws 


INTRODUCTORY.  3 

men  to  Himself  for  their  highest  good  ;  who  unites  to  Himself,  incorporates 
into  Himself,  not  a  nation,  but  the  ivhole  human  race  !  " 

I  might  multijily  sucli  testimonies  from  men  of  all  ages  and  classes, 
indefinitely ;  let  me  give  only  one  or  two  more. 

Among  all  the  Biblical  critics  of  Germany,  no  one  has  risen  with  an 
intellect  more  piercing,  a  learning  more  vast,  and  a  freedom  and  fearless- 
ness more  uncpiestioned,  than  De  Wette.  Yet,  listen  to  a  sentence  from 
the  preface  to  his  Commentary  on  the  Book  of  Revelation,  published  just 
before  his  death,  in  1849  :  "  This  only  I  know,  that  there  is  salvation  in  no 
other  name  than  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Crucified,  and  that 
nothing  loftier  offers  itself  to  humanity  than  the  God-manhood  realized  in 
Him,  and  the  kingdom  of  God  which  He  founded — an  idea  and  problem 
not  yet  rightly  understood  and  incorporated  into  the  life,  even  of  those 
who,  in  other  respects,  justly  rank  as  the  most  zealous  and  the  warmest 
Christians  !  Were  Christ  in  deed  and  in  ti'uth  our  Life,  how  could  such  a 
falling  away  from  Him  be  possible  ?  Those  in  whom  He  lived  would 
witness  so  mightily  for  Him,  through  their  whole  life,  whether  spoken, 
written,  or  acted,  that  unbelief  would  be  forced  to  silence." 

Nor  is  the  incidental  testimony  to  Christ  of  those  who  have  openly  ac- 
knoAvledgcd  their  supreme  devotion  to  Him  less  striking.  There  have 
been  martyrs  to  many  creeds,  but  what  religion  ever  saw  an  army  of 
martyrs  willingly  dying  for  the  personal  love  they  bore  to  the  founder  of 
their  faith  ?  Yet  this  has  always  been  the  characteristic  of  the  martyrs 
of  Christianity,  from  the  daj^s  when,  as  tradition  tells  us,  Peter  was  led  to 
crucifixion  with  the  words  ever  on  his  lips,  "  None  but  Chi-ist,  none  but 
Christ,"  or  when  the  aged  Polycarp, — about  to  he  burned  alive  in  the 
amphitheatre  at  Smyrna, — answered  the  governor,  who  sought  to  make 
him  revile  Christ — "  Eighty  and  six  years  have  I  served  Him,  and  He 
never  did  me  wrong :  and  how  can  I  now  blaspheme  my  King  who  has 
saved  me  ?  "  iSTearly  seventeen  hundred  years  passed  from  the  time  when 
the  earlj^  confessor  died  blessing  God  that  he  was  counted  worthy  to  have 
a  share  in  the  number  of  martyrs  and  in  the  cup  of  Christ ;  and  a  man  of 
high  culture  and  intellect  lies  dying,  the  native  of  an  island  peopled  only 
by  outside  barbarians  in  the  days  of  Polycarp.  The  attendants,  watching 
his  last  moments,  see  his  lips  move,  and  bending  over  him,  catch  the  faint 
sounds,  "  Jesus,  love  ! — Jesus,  love  ! — the  same  thing,"— the  last  words 
uttered  before  he  left  them.  It  was  the  death-bed  of  Sir  James  Macintosh. 
Thus  the  character  of  Christ  still  retains  the  supreme  charm  by  Avhich  it 
drew  towards  it  the  deepest  affections  of  the  heart  in  the  earliest  age 
of  the  Church;  and  such  a  character  must  claim,  above  all  others,  oiu- 
reverent  and  thoughtful  stud3^ 

If  we  attempt  to  discover  what  it  is  in  the  personal  character  of  Jesus 
Christ,  as  shown  in  His  life,  that  thus  attracts  such  permanent  admiration, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  do  so. 

In  an  age  when  the  ideal  of  the  religious  life  was  realized  in  the 
Baptist's  withdraAving  from  men,  and  burying  himself  in  the  ascetic 
solitudes  of  the  desert,  Christ  came,  bringing  religion  into  the  haunts  and 
homes  and  evcry-day  life  of  men.     For  the  mortifications  of  the  hermit 


4  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

He  substituted  the  labours  of  active  benevolence ;  for  the  fears  and  gloom 
whicli  shrank  from  men,  He  brought  the  light  of  a  cheerful  piety,  which 
made  every  act  of  daily  life  religious.  He  found  the  domain  of  religion 
fenced  off  as  something  distinct  from  commoiT  duties,  and  He  threw  down 
the  wall  of  separation,  and  consecrated  the  whole  sweep  of  existence.  He 
lived,  a  man  amongst  men,  sharing  alike  their  joys  and  their  sorrows, 
dignifying  the  humblest  details  of  life  by  making  them  subordinate  to 
the  single  aim  of  His  Father's  glory.  Henceforth  the  grand  revolution 
was  inaugurated,  which  taught  that  religion  does  not  lie  in  selfish  or 
morbid  devotion  to  personal  interests,  whether  in  the  desert  or  the  temple, 
but  iu  loving  work  and  self-sacrifice  for  others. 

The  absolute  unselfishness  of  Christ's  character  is,  indeed,  its  unique 
charm.  His  own  life  is  self-denial  throiighout,  and  He  makes  a  similar 
spirit  the  test  of  all  healthy  religious  life.  It  is  He  who  said,  "  It  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive ;  "  who  reminds  us  that  life,  like  the  Avheat, 
yields  fruit  only  by  its  own  dying;  who  gave  us  the  ideal  of  life  in  His 
own  absolute  self-oblivion.  We  feel  instinctively  that  this  Gospel  of  Love 
alone  is  divine,  and  that  we  cannot  withhold  our  homage  from  the  only 
perfectly  Unselfish  Life  ever  seen  on  earth. 

There  is  much,  besides,  to  which  I  can  only  allude  in  a  word.  He 
demands  repentance  from  all,  but  never  for  a  moment  hints  at  any  need 
of  it  for  Himself.  With  all  His  matchless  lowliness.  He  advances  per- 
sonal claims  which,  in  a  mere  man,  would  be  the  very  delirium  of  religious 
pride.  He  was  divinely  patient  under  evcT-y  form  of  suffering, — a  home- 
less life,  hunger  and  tliirst,  craft  and  violence,  meanness  and  pride,  the 
taunts  of  enemies,  and  betrayals  of  friends,  ending  in  an  ignominious 
death.  Nothing  of  all  this  for  a  moment  tui-ned  Him  from  His  chosen 
patli  of  love  and  pity.  His  last  words,  like  His  whole  life,  were  a  prayer 
for  those  who  returned  Him  evil  for  good.  His  absolute  superiority  to 
everything  narrow  or  local,  so  that  He,  a  Jew,  founds  a  religion  iu  which 
all  mankind  are  a  common  brotherhood,  equal  before  God;  the  dignity, 
calmness,  and  self-possession  before  rulers,  priests,  and  governors,  which 
sets  Him  immeasurably  above  them  ;  His  freedom  from  superstition,  in 
an  age  which  was  superstitious  almost  beyond  example  ;  His  superiority 
to  the  merely  external  and  ritual,  in  an  age  when  rites  and  externals  were 
the  sum  of  religion :  all  these  considerations,  to  mention  no  others,  explain 
the  mj'sterious  attraction  of  His  character,  even  when  looked  at  only  as 
that  of  an  ideal  Mau. 

When,  from  His  character,  we  turn  to  His  teachings,  the  claims  of  His 
Life  on  our  reverent  study  are  still  further  strengthened.  To  Him  we 
owe  the  expansion  of  whatever  was  vital  in  Ancient  Judaism,  from  the 
creed  of  a  tribe  into  a  religion  for  the  world.  The  Old  Testament  reveals 
a  sublime  and  touching  description  of  God  as  the  Creator  and  the  All-wise 
and  Almighty  Euler  of  all  things ;  as  the  God,  in  whose  hand  is  the  life 
of  every  living  thing  and  the  Incath  of  all  mankind;  tlie  God  of  Provi- 
dence, on  whom  the  eyes  of  all  creatures  wait,  and  who  gives  them  their 
meat  in  due  season ;  as  a  Being  of  infinite  majesty,  who  will  l)y  no  means 
clear  the   guilty,  but   yet   is   merciful   and   gracious,  longsutfcring,  and 


INTRODUCTOEY.  6 

abundant  in  goodness  and  truth ;  as  keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  for- 
giving iniquity  and  transgression  and  sin,  and  as  pitying  them  that  fear 
Him,  like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children.  But  it  was  reserved  for  Christ 
to  Ijring  the  character  of  God,  as  a  God  of  Love,  into  full  noon-day  light, 
in  His  so  loving  the  world  as  to  give  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  Him  might  not  perish,  but  have  eternal  life.  In  the 
New  Testament  He  is  first  called  in  the  widest  sense  the  Father  of  all 
mankind.  The  Old  Testament  proclaimed  Him  the  God  of  Al^raham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob — the  Portion  of  Israel :  Christ  points  the  ejcs  of  all 
nations  to  Him  as  the  God  of  the  whole  human  race. 

The  fundamental  princii)les  of  Christianitj^  are  as  new  and  as  sublime 
as  this  grand  conception  of  God,  and  spring  directly  from  it.  The  highest 
ideal  of  man  must  ever  be,  that  his  soul  reflects  the  image  of  his  Creator, 
and  this  image  can  only  bo  that  of  pure,  all-eniln-acing  love,  to  God  and 
man ;  for  God  is  love.  Outward  service,  alone,  is  of  no  value :  the  pure 
heart,  onlj',  loves  aright  :  it,  only,  reflects  the  divine  likeness  ;  for  purity 
and  love  are  the  same  in  the  Eternal.  A  religion  restins:  on  such  a  basis 
bears  the  seal  of  heaven.     But  this  divine  law  constitutes  Christianity. 

The  morality  taught  by  Christ  is  in  keej^ing  with  such  fundamental 
demands.  Since  love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  there  can  be  no  limitation 
to  duty  but  that  of  power.  It  can  only  be  bounded  by  our  possibilities  of 
performance,  and  that  not  in  the  letter,  but  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  both 
towards  God  and  our  neighbour.  The  perfect  holiness  of  God  can  alone 
be  the  standard  of  our  aspiration :  for  love  means  obedience,  and  God 
cannot  look  upon  sin.  To  be  a  perfect  Christian  is  to  be  a  sinless  man — 
sinless  through  the  obedience  of  perfect  love.  Such  a  morality  has  the 
seal  of  the  living  God  on  its  forehead. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  in  realizing  our  obligations  to  Christ,  that  there 
was  a  perfect  novelty  in  this  teaching.  Antiquity,  outside  the  Jewish 
world,  had  no  conception  of  what  we  call  sin.  There  is  no  word  in  Greek 
for  what  we  mean  by  it:  the  expression  for  it  is  synonymous  with  physical 
evil.  There  was  either  no  guilt  in  an  action,  or  the  deity  was  to  blame, 
or  tlie  action  was  irresistible.  Priests  and  people  had  no  aim  or  desire 
in  sacrifices,  prayers,  or  festivals,  beyond  the  removal  of  defilement,  not 
considered  as  a  moral,  but  a  physical  stain  ;  and  they  attributed  a  magical 
effect  to  propitiatory  rites  through  which  they  thought  to  obtain  that 
removal ;  this  effect  being  sure  to  follow  if  tlicre  were  no  omission  in  the 
rite,  even  though  the  will  remained  consciously  inclined  to  evil. 

The  Roman  was  as  free  from  having  any  conception  of  sin  as  the  Greek. 
Even  such  moralists  as  Seneca  had  only  a  blind  spiritual  pride  which 
confounded  God  and  nature,  and  regarded  man — the  crown  of  nature  and 
its  most  perfect  work — as  God's  equal,  or  even  as  His  superior,  for  the 
divine  nature,  in  his  creed,  reaches  perfection  in  man  only.  Every  man, 
he  tells  us,  carries  God  about  with  him  in  his  bosom  ;  in  one  aspect  of 
his  being  he  is  God-  virtue  is  only  the  following  nature,  and  men's  vices 
are  only  madness. 

Compare  with  this  the  vision  of  God — high  and  lifted  up — of  awful 
lioliness  but  of  infinite  love, — and  the  doctrine  of  human  responsibility, 


6  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

which  the  heart  itself  re-echoes — as  taught  by  Christ ;  and  the  study  of 
His  hfe  becomes  the  loftiest  of  humau  duties. 

We  OTve  it  no  less  to  Christ  that  the  belief  in  a  future  life,  with  its  light 
or  shadow  depending  on  a  future  judgment,  is  now  part  of  the  creed  of 
the  world.  Judaism,  indeed,  in  its  later  ages  at  least,  knew  these  reyela- 
tions,  but  Judaism  could  never  have  become  the  religion  of  mankind. 
Pagan  antiquity  had  ceased  to  have  any  fixed  ideas  of  anything  beyond 
this  life.  Immortality  was  an  open  question  ;  the  dream  of  poets  rather 
than  the  common  faith.  But  Christ  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
through  the  Gospel. 

Doctrines  such  as  these,  illustrated  by  such  a  Life,  and  crowned  by  a 
death  v/hich  He  Himself  proclaimed  to  be  a  voluntary  offering  "  for  the 
life  of  the  world,"  could  not  fail  to  have  a  mighty  influence. 

The  leaven  thus  cast  into  the  mass  of  humanity  has  already  largely 
transformed  society,  and  is  destined  to  aifect  it  for  good,  in  ever-increasing 
measure,  in  all  directions.  Tlie  one  grand  doctrine  of  the  Brotherhood  of 
Man,  as  man,  is  in  itself  the  pledge  of  infinite  results.  The  seminal  prin- 
ciple of  all  true  progress  must  ever  be  found  in  a  joroper  sense  of  the 
inherent  dignity  of  manhood;  in  the  realization  of  the  truth  that  the 
whole  human  race  are  essentially  equal  in  their  faculties,  nature,  and 
inalienable  rights.  Such  an  idea  was  unknown  to  antiquity.  The  Jew, 
speaking  in  the  Fourth  Book  of  Esdras,  addressed  God—"  On  our  account 
Thou  hast  created  the  world.  Other  nations,  sprung  from  Adam,  Thou 
hast  said  are  nothing,  and  are  like  spittle,  and  Thou  hast  likened  their 
multitude  to  the  droppings  from  a  cask.  But  we  are  Thy  peo})le,  whom 
Thou  hast  called  Thy  first-born.  Thine  only -begotten,  Thy  av  ell -beloved." 
In  the  Book  Sifri,  the  Rabbis  tell  us — "  A  single  Israelite  is  of  more 
worth  in  the  sight  of  God  than  all  the  nations  of  the  world ;  every  Israelite 
is  of  more  value  before  Him  tha.n  all  the  nations  who  have  been  or  will  be." 

To  the  G  REEK,  the  Vv^ord  "  humanity,"  as  a  term  for  the  wide  brother- 
hood of  all  races,  was  unknown.  All  races,  except  his  own,  were  regarded 
and  despised  as  "  barbarians."  Even  the  Egyptians,  in  spite  of  their 
ancient  traditions  and  priestly  "wisdom,"  —  the  Carthaginians,  the 
Phoenicians,  Etruscans,  Macedonians,  and  Romans,  not  to  mention  out- 
lying and  uncivilized  peoples,  were  stigmatised  by  this  contemptuous 
name.  The  Greek  fancied  himself  appointed  Ijy  the  gods  to  be  lord  over 
all  other  races  ;  and  Socrates  only  gave  expression  to  the  general  feelin"- 
of  his  countrymen  when  he  thanked  the  gods  daily  for  being  man  and  not 
beast,  male  and  not  female,  Greek  and  not  barbarian. 

The  Roman,  in  common  with  antiquity  at  large,  considered  all  wlio  did 
not  belong  to  his  own  State  as  hostes,  or  enemies;  and  hence,  imless  there 
were  a  special  league,  all  Romans  held  that  the  only  law  between  them 
and  those  who  were  not  Romans,  was  that  of  the  stronger,  by  which  they 
were  entitled  to  subjugate  such  races  if  they  could,  plunder  their  posses- 
sions, and  make  the  people  slaves.  The  fact  tliat  a  tribe  lived  on  the  bank 
of  a  river  on  tlie  other  side  of  which  Romans  had  settled,  made  its  mem- 
bers "  rivals,"  for  the  word  means  simply  the  dwellers  on  opposite  sides 
of  a  stream.     It  -was  even  objected  to  Christianity,  indeed,  that  its  folly 


INTEODUCTOEY.  7 

was  patent,  from  its  scoking  to  introduce  one  religion  for  all  races,  "  The 
man,"  says  Celsus,  "  wlio  can  believe  it  possible  for  Greeks  and  Barbar- 
ians, in  Asia,  Europe,  and  Libya,  to  agree  in  one  code  of  religious  laws, 
must  be  utterly  devoid  of  sense."  Antiquity  bad  no  conception  of  a  re- 
ligion Vv"hicb,  by  readily  uniting  vritb  everything  purely  human,  and  as 
readily  attacking  all  forms  of  evil,  could  be  destined  or  suited  to  the  wants 
of  all  humanity.  ISTor  did  it  deign  to  think  that  the  aristocracy  of  the  race 
could  stoop  to  have  a  religion  in  common  with  the  barbarian  to  whom  it 
almost  refused  the  name  of  man. 

It  was  left  to  Christ  to  proclaim  the  brotherhood  of  all  nations  by 
revealing  God  as  their  common  Father  in  Heaven,  filled  towards  them 
with  a  father's  love  ;  by  His  commission  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  all :  by 
His  inviting  all,  without  distinction,  Avho  laboured  and  were  heavy  laden, 
to  come  to  Him,  as  the  Saviour  sent  from  God,  for  rest ;  by  His  receiving 
the  woman  of  Samaria  and  her  of  Canaan  as  graciously  as  any  others  ; 
by  His  making  Himself  the  friend  of  jDublicans  and  sinners  ;  by  the  tone 
of  such  parables  as  that  of  Dives  and  Lazarus ;  by  His  equal  sympathy 
with  the  slave,  the  beggar,  and  the  ruler  ;  by  the  whole  bearing  and  spirit 
of  His  life ;  and,  above  all,  by  His  picture  of  all  nations  gathered  to 
judgment  at  the  Great  Day,  with  no  distinction  of  race  or  rank,  but 
simply  as  men. 

In  this  great  principle  of  the  essential  equality  of  man,  and  his 
responsibility  to  God,  the  germs  lay  hid  of  grand  truths  imperfectly 
realized  even  yet. 

Thus,  it  is  to  this  we  owe  the  conception  of  the  rights  of  individual 
conscience  as  opposed  to  any  outward  authority.  There  was  no  dream  of 
such  a  thing  before  Christ  came.  The  play  of  individuality,  which  alone 
secures  and  exemplifies  those  rights,  was  unknown  or  restricted.  Among 
the  Greeks,  the  will  of  the  State  was  enforced  on  the  individual.  Morality 
and  goodness  were  limited  to  what  was  voted  by  the  majority  as  ex- 
pedient for  the  well-being  of  the  community  at  large.  Wlien  a  man  had 
paid  the  gods  the  traditional  sacrifices  and  ceremonies,  he  had  little  more 
to  do  with  them.  Not  only  could  he  not  act  for  himself  freely  in  social  or 
private  affairs  ;  his  conscience  had  no  liberty.  The  State  was  everything, 
the  man  nothing.  Eome  knew  as  little  of  responsibility  to  higher  laws 
than  its  own,  and  had  very  limited  ideas  even  of  personal  freedom. 
Christ's  words,  "  One  is  your  '  Teacher,'  and  all  ye  are  brethren  ;  "  "  One 
is  your  '  Father,'  even  the  Heavenly ;  "  "  One  is  your  '  Guide,'  even  the 
Christ,''  were  the  inauguration  of  a  social  and  moral  revolution. 

The  SLAVE,  before  Christ  came,  was  a  piece  of  property  of  less  worth 
than  land  or  cattle.  An  old  Roman  law  enacted  a  penalty  of  death  for 
him  who  killed  a  ploughing  ox ;  Init  the  murderer  of  a  slave  was  called  to 
no  account  whatever.  Crassus,  after  the  revolt  of  Spartacus,  crucified 
10,000  slaves  at  one  time.  Augustus,  in  violation  of  his  word,  delivered 
to  their  masters,  for  execution,  30,000  slaves  who  had  fought  for  Sextus 
Pompeius.  Trajan,  the  best  of  the  Eomans  of  his  day,  made  10,000  slaves 
fight  at  one  time  in  the  amphitheatre,  for  the  amusement  of  the  people, 
and  prolonged  the  massacre  123  days. 


8  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

The  great  truth  of  man's  universal  brotherhood  was  the  axe  laid  at  the 
root  ol  this  detestable  crime — the  sum  of  all  villanies.  By  first  infusing 
kindness  into  the  lot  of  the  slave,  then  by  slowly  undermining  slavery 
itself,  eacli  century  has  seen  some  advance,  till  at  last  the  man-owner  is 
unknown  in  nearly  every  civilized  country,  and  even  Africa  itself,  the 
worst  victim  of  slavery  in  these  later  ages,  is  being  aided  by  Christian 
England  to  raise  its  slaves  into  freemen. 

Aggressive  war  is  no  less  distinctly  denounced  by  Christianity,  which, 
in  teaching  the  brotherhood  of  man,  proclaims  war  a  revolt,  abhorrent  to 
nature,  of  brothers  against  brothers.  The  voice  of  Christ,  commanding 
peace  on  earth,  has  echoed  through  all  the  centuries  since  His  day,  and 
lias  been  at  least  so  far  honoured  that  the  horrors  of  war  are  greatly 
lessened,  and  that  war  itself — no  longer  the  rule,  but  the  exception — is 
much  rarer  in  Christian  nations  than  in  former  times. 

The  POOR,  in  antiquity,  were  in  almost  as  bad  a  plight  as  the  slave. 
"  How  can  you  possibly  let  yourself  down  so  low  as  not  to  repel  a  poor 
man  from  you  with  scorn  "  is  the  question  of  a  rhetorician  of  the  imperial 
times  of  Home,  to  a  rich  man.  ISTo  one  of  the  thousands  of  rich  men 
living  ill  Rome  ever  conceived  the  notion  of  founding  an  asylum  for  the 
poor,  or  a  hospital  for  the  sick.  There  were  herds  of  beggars.  Seneca 
often  mentions  them,  and  observes  that  most  men  fling  an  alms  to  a 
beggar  with  repugnance,  and  carefully  avoid  all  contact  with  him. 
Among  the  Jews,  the  poor  were  thought  to  be  justly  bearing  the  penalty 
of  some  sin  of  their  own,  or  of  their  fathers.  But  we  know  the  sayings 
of  Clirist — "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  :  "  "I  was  an 
hungred,  and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink ;  I 
was  a  stranger,  and  yc  took  me  in ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me ;  I  was 
sick,  and  ye  visited  me  ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me :  "  "  Give 
to  tlie  poor."  The  abject  and  forlorn  received  a  charter  of  human  rights 
when  He  proclaimed  that  all  men  are  brethren :  sprung  from  the  same 
human  stock  ;  sons  of  the  same  Almighty  Father  ;  one  family  in  Himself 
the  Head  of  regenerated  humanity. 

The, condition  of  woman  in  antiquity  was  little  better  than  that  of  the 
slave.  She  was  the  property  of  her  husband,  if  married ;  if  unmarried, 
she  was  the  plaything  or  slave  of  man,  never  his  equal.  The  morality  of 
married  life,  which  is  the  strength  and  glory  of  any  people,  was  hardly 
known.  Pompey  and  G  ermanicus  were  singular  in  the  fidelity  that  marked 
their  marriage-relations,  on  both  sides,  and  were  famous  through  the  singu- 
larity. The  utter  impurity  of  the  men  reacted  in  a  similar  self-degradation 
of  the  other  sex.  In  Rome,  marriages  became,  as  a  rule,  mere  temporary 
connections.  In  order  to  escape  the  punishments  infiicted  on  adultery,  in 
the  time  of  Tiberius,  married  women,  including  even  women  of  illustrious 
families,  enrolled  themselves  on  the  official  lists  of  public  jirostitutes.  St. 
Paul  only  spoke  the  language  which  every  one  who  knows  the  state  oi 
morals  of  those  days  must  use,  when  he  wrote  the  well-known  verses  in  the 
opening  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  The  barbarians  of  the  German 
forests,  alone,  of  tlie  heathen  world,  retained  a  worthy  sense  of  the  true 
dignity  of  woman.     "  No  one  there  laughs  at  vice/'  says  Tacitus,  "  nor  is 


INTRODUCTORY.  9 

to  seduce  and  to  be  seduced  called  the  fashion."  "  Happy  indeed,"  con- 
tinues the  Roman,  thinking  of  the  state  of  things  around  him,  "  those 
states  in  which  only  virgins  marr}",  and  Avhcre  the  vow  and  heart  of  the 
bride  go  together  !  "  "  Infidelity  is  very  rare  among  them."  The  tradi- 
tions of  a  jjurer  time  still  lingered  beyond  the  Alps  :  the  afterglow  of 
light  that  had  set  elsewhere. 

These  traditions,  thus  honoured  in  the  forests  of  Germany,  were 
formulated  in  a  supreme  law  for  all  ages  and  countries  by  Jesus  Christ. 
Except  for  one  crime,  husljand  and  w^ife,  joined  by  God  in  marriage,  were 
not  to  be  put  asunder.  Woman  was  no  longer  to  be  the  toy  and  inferior 
of  man.  Polygamy,  the  fruitful  source  of  social  corruption,  was  forbidden. 
Man  and  woman  were  to  meet  on  equal  terms  in  lifelong  union  :  each 
honouring  the  other,  and  both  training  their  children  amidst  the  sanctities 
of  a  pure  family  life. 

The  enforcement  of  these  and  kindred  teachings,  destined  to  regenerate 
humanity,  required  lofty  sanctions.  That  these  are  not  wanting,  in  the 
amjilest  fulness,  we  have  in  part  seen  already,  and  shall  see  more  and 
more  as  we  advance.  Meanwhile,  enoue-h  has  been  said  to  show  Avhv, 
even  apart  from  the  mysterious  dignity  of  His  divine  nature,  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  and  even  independently  of  His  being  the  Lamb  of  God, 
who  takes  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  Christ's  life  and  sayings,  alike  unique 
among  men,  deserve  the  reverent  study  of  all. 

"  From  first  to  last,"  said  the  great  Napoleon,  on  one  occasion,  "  Jesus 
is  the  same;  always  the  same — majestic  and  simple,  infinitely  severe 
and  infinitely  gentle.  Throughout  a  life  passed  under  the  public  eye.  He 
never  gives  occasion  to  find  fault.  The  prudence  of  His  conduct  compels 
our  admiration  by  its  union  of  force  and  gentleness.  Alike  in  speech  and 
action,  He  is  enlightened,  consistent,  and  calm.  Sublimity  is  said  to  be 
an  attribute  of  divinity  :  what  name,  then,  shall  we  give  Him  in  whose 
character  were  united  every  element  of  the  sublime  ? 

"  I  know  men ;  and  I  tell  you  that  Jesus  is  not  a  man.  Everything  in 
Him  amazes  me.  His  spirit  outreaches  mine,  and  His  will  confounds  luo. 
Comparison  is  impossible  between  Him  and  any  other  being  in  the  woi'ld. 
He  is  truly  a  being  by  Himself.  His  ideas  and  His  sentiments  ;  the  truth 
that  He  announces  ;  His  manner  of  convincing ;  are  all  beyond  humanity 
and  the  natural  order  of  things. 

"  His  birth,  and  the  story  of  His  life;  the  profoundness  of  His  doctrine, 
which  overturns  all  difficulties,  and  is  their  most  complete  solution ;  His 
Gospel ;  the  singularity  of  His  mysterious  being ;  His  appearance ;  His 
empire;  His  progress  through  all  centuries  and  kingdoms  ;— all  this  is  to 
me  a  prodigy,  an  iinfathomable  mystery. 

"  I  see  nothing  here  of  man.  Near  as  I  may  approach,  closely  as  I  may 
examine,  all  remains  above  my  comprehension — great  with  a  greatness 
that  crushes  me.     It  is  in  vain  that  I  reflect — all  remains  unaccountable  ! 

"  I  defy  you  to  cite  another  life  like  that  of  Christ.'* 


10  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

CliAPTER  II. 

THE    HOLY   LAND. 

rpiIE  contrast  between  the  influences  which  have  most  affected  the 
world,  and  the  centres  from  which  they  have  sprung,  is  very  striking. 
Greece,  the  mother  of  philosophy  and  art,  for  all  time,  is  not  quite  half  the 
size  of  Scotland ;  Eome,  the  mighty  mistress  of  the  world,  was  only  a 
city  of  Italy ;  Palestine,  the  l^irthplace  of  our  Lord,  and  the  cradle  of 
revelation,  is  about  the  size  of  Wales.  From  Dan,  on  the  north,  to  Beer- 
sheba,  on  the  south,  is  a  distance  of  only  139  miles ;  and  the  paltry  breadth 
of  twenty  miles,  from  the  coast  to  the  Jordan,  on  the  north,  increases 
slowly  to  only  forty  between  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  at  Gaza,  and 
the  Dead  Sea,  on  the  south. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  America  was  unknown  till  within  the  last 
four  centuries,  the  position  of  Palestine  on  the  map  of  the  ancient  world 
was  veiy  remarkable.  It  seemed  the  very  centre  of  the  earth,  and  went 
far  to  excuse  the  long-prevailing  belief  that  Jerusalem  was  the  precise 
central  point.  On  the  extreme  western  limit  of  Asia,  it  looked  eastward, 
towards  the  great  empires  and  religions  of  that  mighty  continent,  and 
westward,  over  the  Mediterranean,  to  the  promise  of  European  civilization. 
It  was  the  connecting  link  between  Eurojoe  and  Africa,  which  could  then 
boast  of  Egypt  as  one  of  the  great  centres  of  human  thought  and  culture ; 
and  it  had  the  dateless  past  of  the  East  for  its  background. 

Yet  its  position  towai"ds  other  lands  was  not  less  striking  than  its  real 
or  apparent  isolation.  Separated  from  Asia  by  the  broad  and  impassable 
desert,  it  was  saved  from  becoming  a  purely  Eastern  country,  either  in 
religion,  or  in  the  political  decay  and  retrogression  which  have,  sooner  or 
later,  marked  all  Eastern  States.  Shut  in,  by  a  strip  of  desert,  from 
Egypt,  it  was  kept,  in  great  part,  from  the  contagion  of  the  gross  immorality 
and  grosser  idolatry  of  that  land  ;  and  its  western  coasts  were  washed  by 
the  "  Great  Sea,"  which,  for  ages,  was  as  much  a  mystery  to  the  Jew,  as 
the  Atlantic  to  our  ancestors,  before  the  era  of  Columbus.  There  could 
have  been  no  land  in  which  the  purpose  of  God  to  "  separate  "  a  nation 
"  from  among  all  the  jieople  of  the  earth,''  to  be  the  depositary  of  divine 
truth,  and  the  future  missionaries  of  the  world,  could  have  been  so  per- 
fectly carried  out.  Nor  did  its  special  fitness  as  a  centre  of  heavenly 
light  amongst  mankind  pass  away  till  the  whole  scheme  of  revelation  had 
been  completed ;  for  by  the  time  of  Christ's  death  the  Mediterranean  had 
become  the  highway  of  the  nations,  and  facilitated  the  diffusion  of  the 
Gospel  to  the  cities  and  nations  of  the  populous  West,  by  the  easy  path 
of  its  wide  waters.  The  long  seclusion  of  ages  had  already  trained  the 
Jew  in  religious  knowledge,  when  forced  or  voluntary  dispersion  sent 
him  abroad  to  all  lands,  with  his  lofty  creed :  the  passing  away  of  that 
seclusion  opened  the  world  to  the  ready  dissemination  of  the  message  of 
the  Cross. 

It  is  an  additional  peculiarity  of  the  Holy  Land,  in  relation  to  the 
history  of  religion,  that  its  physical  features,  and  its  position,  together, 


THE    HOLY  LAND.  11 

brought  it,  from  the  earliest  ages,  in  contact  with  the  widest  range  of 
peoples  and  empires.  Egypt  and  it  are  two  oases  in  wide-spreading 
deserts,  and  as  such  attracted  race  after  race.  Vast  migrations  of 
northern  tribes  towards  the  richer  southern  countries  have  marked  all 
ages ;  and  Egypt,  as  the  type  of  fertility,  was  a  special  land  of  wonder, 
to  which  these  wandering  populations  ever  turned  greedy  eyes.  In  a  less 
degree,  the  Holj  Land  shared  this  dangerous  admiration.  It  was  the 
next  link  to  Egypt  in  the  chain  of  attractive  conquests — Egypt  itself 
being  the  last.  As  in  later  times  the  Assyrian,  the  Chaldean,  the  Per.«ian, 
the  Greek,  the  Eoman,  and  the  Tui-k  successively  coveted  the  valley  of  the 
Nile,  and  took  possession  of  it,  so  in  the  very  eai-liest  ages,  as  many 
indications  prove,  wave  after  wave  of  immigration  had  overflowed  it.  In 
all  these  inroads  of  nevv"  nationalities,  the  Holy  Land,  as  the  highway  to 
Egypt,  necessarily  sliarcd,  and  hence,  as  centuries  passed,  race  after  race 
was  brought  in  contact  with  the  Jew,  in  spite  of  his  isolation,  and  the  Jew 
into  contact  with  them.  Such  a  fact  was  of  great  significance  in  the 
religious  education  of  the  world.  It  leavened  widely  distant  nations, 
more  or  less,  with  the  grand  religious  truths  which  had  been  committed  to 
the  keeping  of  the  Jew  alone ;  it  led  or  forced  him  abroad  to  distant 
regions,  to  learn,  as  well  as  to  communicate  ;  and  it  reacted  to  ensiu-e  the 
intense  religious  conservatism  to  which  the  Jew,  even  to-day,  owes  his 
continued  national  existence.  That  was  a  fitting  scene,  moreover,  for  the 
advent  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  in  Avhich,  small  though  its  bounds. 
He  was  suiTounded  not  by  the  Jew  alone,  but  by  a  joopulation  representing 
a  v/ide  proportion  of  the  tribes  and  nations  of  the  then-known  earth. 
The  inscription  on  the  cross,  in  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  was  the  symbol 
of  the  relation  of  Christ's  life,  and  of  His  death,  to  all  humanity. 

But  perhaps  the  most  striking  peculiarity  of  Palestine  as  the  spot 
chosen  by  God  for  His  revelations  of  religious  truth  to  our  race,  and  for 
the  incarnation  of  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  is  that  it  presents  within  its 
narrow  bounds  the  characteristics  of  climate  and  productions  scattered 
elsewhere  over  all  the  habitable  zones — from  the  snowy  north  to  the 
tropics.  The  literature  of  a  country  necessarily  takes  the  colour  of  its 
local  scenery  and  external  nature,  and  hence  a  book  written  in  almost  any 
land  is  unfitted  for  any  other  countries  in  wliich  life  and  nature  are  differ- 
ent. Thus  the  Koran,  written  in  Arabia,  is  essentially  an  Eastern  book, 
in  great  measure  unintelligiljle  and  uninteresting  to  nations  living  in 
countries  in  any  great  degree  different  in  climate  and  modes  of  life,  from 
Arabia  itself.  The  sacred  books  of  other  religions  have  had  only  a  local 
reception.  The  Bible  alone  finds  a  welcome  among  nations  of  every 
region  over  the  earth.  It  is  the  one  book  in  the  world  which  men  every- 
where receive  with  equal  interest  and  reverence.  The  inhabitant  of  the 
coldest  north  finds,  in  its  imagery,  something  that  he  can  understand,  and 
it  is  a  household  book  in  multitudes  of  homes  iai  the  sultriest  regions  of 
the  south. 

Intended  to  carry  the  Truth  to  all  nations,  it  was  essential  that  the 
Bible  should  have  this  cosmopolitan  attractiveness.  Yet  it  could  not  have 
had  it  but  that  such  a  country  as   Palestine  was  chosen  to  produce  it. 


12  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Witliin  the  narrow  limits  of  that  strip  of  coast,  as  we  might  call  it,  are 
gathered  the  features  of  countries  the  most  widely  apart.  The  peaks  of 
Lebanon  are  never  without  patches  of  snow,  even  in  the  heat  of  summer. 
Snow  falls  nearly  every  winter  along  the  summits  of  the  central  ridge  of 
Palestine,  and  over  the  table-laud  east  of  the  Jordan,  though  it  seldom 
lies  more  than  one  or  two  days.  On  the  otlier  hand,  in  the  Valley  of  tlie 
Jordan,  summer  brings  the  heat  of  the  tropics,  and  the  different  seasons, 
in  different  parts,  according  to  the  elevation,  exhibit  a  regular  gradation 
between  these  extremes.  Thus,  witliin  the  extent  of  a  single  landscape, 
there  is  every  climate,  from  the  cold  of  Northern  Europe  to  the  heat  of 
India.  The  oak,  the  pine,  the  walnut,  the  maple,  the  juniper,  the  aider, 
the  poplar,  the  willow,  the  ash,  the  ivy,  and  the  hawthorn,  grow  luxuriantly 
on  the  heights  of  Hermon,  Bashan,  and  Galilee.  Hence  the  traveller 
from  the  more  northerly  temperate  lands  finds  himself,  in  some  parts, 
surrounded  by  the  trees  and  vegetation  of  his  own  country.  He  sees  the 
apple,  the  pear,  and  the  plum,  and  rejoices  to  meet  the  familiar  wheat, 
and  barley,  and  peas,  and  potatoes,  and  cabbage,  carrots,  lettuce,  endive, 
and  mustard.  The  Englisliman  is  delighted  to  find  himself  surrounded  by 
many  of  the  flowers  of  his  native  land;  for  out  of  the  2,000  or  2,500 
flowers  of  Palestine,  perhaps  500  are  British.  It  looks  like  home  to  see 
the  ranunculus,  the  yellow  water-lily,  the  tulip,  the  crocus,  the  hj-acinth, 
the  anemone,  mignonette,  geraniums,  mallows,  the  common  bramble,  the 
dog-rose,  the  daisy,  the  well-known  groundsel,  the  dandelion, — sage,  and 
thyme,  and  sweet  marjoram,  blue  and  white  pimpernel,  cyclamens,  ver- 
vain, mint,  hoi'ehound,  road-way  nettles,  and  thistles  ;  and  j^onds  with 
the  wonted  water-cress,  duck-weed,  and  rushes. 

The  traveller  from  more  southern  countries  is  no  less  at  home  ;  for 
from  whatever  part  he  come,  be  it  sunny  Spain  or  AVestern  India,  he  will 
recognise  well-known  forms  in  one  or  other  of  such  a  list  as  the  carob,  the 
oleander  and  willow,  skirting  the  streams  and  watercourses;  the  sycamore 
the  fig,  the  olive,  the  date-palm,  the  pride  of  India,  the  pistachio,  the 
tamarisk,  the  acacia,  and  the  tall  tropical  grasses  and  reeds  ;  or  in  such 
fruits  as  the  date,  the  pomegranate,  the  vine,  the  orange,  the  shaddock, 
the  lime,  the  banana,  the  almond,  and  the  jirickly  pear.  The  siglit  of 
fields  of  cotton,  millet,  rice,  sugar-cane,  maize,  or  even  of  Indian  indigo, 
and  of  patches  of  melons,  gourds,  pumpkins,  tobacco,  j'am,  sweet  potato, 
and  other  southern  or  tropical  field  or  garden  crops,  Avill  carry  him  back 
in  thought  to  his  home. 

There  can  be  no  more  vivid  illustration  of  the  climate  of  any  land 
than  the  vegetation  it  yields,  and  Palestine,  tried  by  this  test,  reproduces 
climates  and  zones  which,  in  other  countries,  are  separated  by  many  hun- 
dred miles. 

A  book  written  in  such  a  land  must  necessarily  be  a  reflection,  in  its 
imagery  and  modes  of  thought,  so  far  as  they  arc  affected  by  external 
nature,  of  much  that  is  common  to  men  all  over  the  earth.  The  Scrip- 
tures of  the  two  Testaments  have  had  this  priceless  help  in  their  great 
mission,  from  Palestine  having  been  chosen  by  God  as  the  land  in  which 
tliey  were  written.     The  words  of  prophets  and  apostles,  and  of  the  great 


THE    HOLY    LAND.  13 

Master  Himself,  sound  familiar  to  all  mankind,  because  spoken  amidst 
natural  images  and  experiences  common  to  all  the  ■world. 

Though  essentially  a  mountainous  country,  Palestine  has  many  broad 
and  fertile  plains.  It  is  a  highland  district,  intersected  throughout,  and 
bordered  on  the  western  side,  by  rich,  wide-spreading  lowlands. 

The  plain  on  the  western  side  extends  from  above  Acre,  with  an  inter- 
ruption by  Mount  Carmel,  along  the  whole  coast,  under  the  respective 
names  of  the  plain  of  Acre,  the  plain  of  Sharon,  and  the  Shephelah,  or 
low  country,  the  land  of  the  Philistines  in  early  ages.  From  this  border 
plain  the  country  rises,  throughout,  into  a  table-land  of  an  average  height; 
of  from  1,500  to  1,800  feet  above  the  Mediterranean ;  the  general  level 
being  so  even,  and  the  hills  so  close  together,  that  the  whole  length  of  the 
country,  seen  from  the  coast,  looks  like  a  wall  ri.sing  from  the  fertile 
plain  at  its  foot.  Yet  the  general  monotony  is  broken,  here  and  there,  by 
higher  elevations.  Thus,  to  begin  from  the  south,  Hebron  is  3,029  feet 
above  the  sea;  Jerusalem  2,610;  the  Mount  of  Olives  2,721;  Bethel  2,400; 
Ebal  and  Gerizinr2,700 ;  Little  Hermon  and  Tabor,  on  the  north  side  of 
the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  1,900;   Safed  2,775  ;  and  Jebul  Jcrmuk  4-,000. 

'J'his  lonsr  sea  of  hills  is  full  of  vallcvs  running  east  and  west,  which 
form  so  many  arms  of  torrent  beds,  opening  into  the  Jordan  valley  or 
the  Mediterranean.  These  valleys,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  water-shed, 
towards  Jordan,  are  extremely  steep  and  rugged;  as,  for  instance,  the 
precipitous  descent  between  Mount  Olivet  and  Jericho,  which  sinks  over 
4,000  feet  in  a  distance  of  about  fifteen  miles.  The  great  depression  of 
the  Jordan  valley  makes  such  rugged  and  difficult  mountain  gorges  the 
only  passes  to  the  upper  country  from  the  east.  There  is  not  a  spot,  till 
the  plain  of  Esdraelon  joins  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  open  enough  to 
manajuvre  more  than  a  small  body  of  foot  soldiers.  The  western  valleys 
slope  more  gently,  but,  like  the  eastern,  are  the  only  means  of  commu- 
nication with  the  plains,  and  offer  such  difficulties  as  explain  the  security 
of  Israel  in  ancient  times,  entrenched  among  hills  which,  at  the  best,  could 
be  reached  only  by  rough  mountain  passes.  The  Jew  lived,  in  fact,  in  a 
strong  mountain  fastness  stretching  like  a  long  wall  behind  the  plain 
beneath. 

The  appearance  and  fertility  of  this  highland  region,  Avhich,  alone,  was 
at  any  time  the  Holy  Land  of  the  Jcavs,  varies  in  different  parts.  The 
southern  district,  bcloAV  Hebron,  is  a  gradual  transition  from  the  desert, 
from  which  it  is  approached  in  slow  ascent.  It  was  known  in  Bible  times 
as  the  Negeb,  or  south  country,  and  is  an  uninviting  tract  of  barren 
uplands.  As  we  pass  north  into  the  hills  of  Judah  and  Benjamin  there  is 
somewhat  more  fertility,  but  the  landscape  is  monotonous,  bare,  and  unin- 
viting in  the  extreme,  for  most  of  the  year.  In  spring,  even  the  bald, 
grey  rocks  which  make  up  the  view  are  covered  with  verdure  and  bright 
tiowers,  and  the  ravines  arc  filled  with  torrents  of  rushing  water,  but  in 
summer  and  autumn  the  look  of  the  country  from  Hebron  up  to  Bethel  is 
very  dreary  and  desolate.  The  flowers  vanish  with  the  first  fierce  rays  of 
the  summer  sun :  they  arc  "  to-day  in  the  field,  to-morrow  cast  into  the 
oven."'     The  little  upland  phvius,  which,  with  their  gi-een  grass,  and  green 


14  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

corn,  and  smooth  surface,  relieve  tlis  monotony  of  the  mountain-tops 
farther  north,  are  not  found  in  Judea,  and  are  rare  in  Benjamin.  The 
soil,  alike  on  plain,  hill,  and  glen,  is  poor  and  scanty.  Natural  wood 
disappears,  and  a  few  small  bushes,  brambles,  or  aromatic  shrubs,  alone 
appear  on  the  hillsides.  "  Rounded  hills,  chiefly  of  a  gi'ey  colour,"  says 
Dean  Stanley — "  grey  partly  from  the  limestone  of  which  they  are  formed, 
partly  from  the  tufts  of  grey  shrub  with  which  their  sides  are  thinly 
clothed  ;  their  sides  formed  into  concentric  rings  of  rock,  which  must  have 
served  in  ancient  times  as  supports  to  the  terraces,  of  which  there  are 
still  traces  to  the  very  summits  ;  vallej^s,  or  rather  the  meetings  of  those 
grey  slopes  with  the  beds  of  dry  water-courses  at  their  feet— long  sheets 
of  bare  rock  laid  like  flagstones,  side  by  side,  along  the  soil — these  are  the 
chief  features  of  the  greater  part  of  the  scenery  of  the  historical  parts 
of  Palestine.  These  rounded  hills,  occasionally  stretching  into  long 
undulating  ranges,  are  for  the  most  part  bare  of  wood.  Forest  and  large 
timber  are  not  known."  Fountains  are  rare  in  this  district ;  and  wells, 
covered  cisterns,  and  tanks  cut  out  in  the  soft  white  limestone,  take  their 
place. 

Such  arc  the  central  and  northern  highlands  of  Judea.  In  the  west 
and  north-western  parts,  Avhich  the  sea-breezes  reach,  the  vegetation  is 
more  abundant.  Olives  abound,  and  give  the  country  in  some  places  almost 
a  wooded  appearance.  The  terebinth,  with  its  dark  foliage,  is  frequent, 
and  near  the  site  of  Kirjath-jearim,  "  the  city  of  forests,"  there  are  some 
thickets  of  pine  and  laurel. 

But  the  eastern  part  of  these  hills —  a  tract  nine  or  ten  miles  in  width 
oy  about  thirty-five  in  length — Vjetween  the  centre  and  the  steep  descent 
to  the  Dead  Sea — is,  and  must  always  have  been,  in  the  truest  sense  a 
desert.  Van  de  Velde  well  describes  it  as  a  bare  arid  wilderness :  an 
endless  succession  of  shapeless,  yellow,  and  ash-coloured  hills,  without 
grass  or  shrubs,  without  water,  and  almost  without  life.  Another  travel- 
ler speaks  of  it  as  a  wilderness  of  mountain-tops,  in  some  places  tossed 
up  like  waves  of  mud,  in  others  wrinkled  over  with  ravines,  like  models 
made  of  crumpled  brown  paper,  the  ncai'er  ones  whitish,  strewn  with  rocks 
and  bushes.  Such  is  the  desert  or  v\'ilderness  of  Judea,  the  scene  of  the 
earlier  retirement  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  tlie  popularly  supposed  scene 
of  the  temptation  of  our  Lord. 

Though  thus  barren  and  uninviting  as  a  whole,  in  our  day,  the  universal 
presence  of  ruins  proves  that  Judah  and  Benjamin  had  a  teeming  popu- 
lation in  former  ages.  Terrace  cultivation  utilized  the  whole  surface, 
where  there  was  the  least  soil  ;  and  in  such  a  climate,  with  an  artificial 
supplj'  of  water,  luxuriant  fertility  might  be  secured  everywhere  except  on 
the  bare  rock.  The  destruction  of  these  terraces  has  doubtless  allowed 
much  soil  to  be  washed  into  the  valleys,  and  lost,  and  the  cutting  down 
of  the  natural  forests,  of  which  there  are  still  traces,  must  have  greatly 
diminished  the  supply  of  water.  Even  in  the  now  utterly  barren  districts 
of  "  the  south "  abundant  proofs  have  been  discovered  that  cultivation 
was  anciently  extensive.  The  fact  that  there  are  no  perennial  streams 
in  the  western   wadys,  while  there   are  mouy  in  those  trending  to  the 


THE   HOLY  LAND.  15 

Jordan  on  both  sides,  where  the  forests  or  thick  shrubberies  of  ole- 
anders and  other  flowering  trees  still  flourish,  speaks  volumes  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  present  sterility. 

Passing  northward  from  Judea,  the  country  gradually  opens  and  is 
more  inviting.  Eich  plains,  at  flrst  small,  but  becoming  larger  as  we  get 
north,  stretch  out  between  the  hills,  till  at  last,  near  Nablous,  we  reach 
one  a  mile  broad  and  six  miles  long.  The  valle3's  running  west  are  long, 
winding,  and  mostly  tillable  :  those  on  the  east  are  less  deep  and  aljrupt 
than  farther  south,  and,  being  abundantly  watered  by  numerous  fountains, 
are  rich  in  orange  groves  and  orchards.  jS'ablous  itself  is  surrounded  l)y 
immense  groves  of  olive-trees,  planted  on  all  the  hills  around.  Nowhere 
in  Palestine  are  there  nobler  brooks  of  water.  The  rich  uplands  produce 
abundant  crops  of  grain  when  cultivated ;  yet  it  is,  on  the  whole,  a  region 
specially  adapted  for  olives,  vineyards,  and  orchards.  The  mountains, 
though  bare  of  wood,  and  but  partially  cultivated,  have  none  of  that  arid, 
worn  look  of  those  of  some  parts  farther  south. 

ISTorth-west  of  the  city  of  Xablous  the  mountains  gradually  sink  down 
into  a  wide  plain,  famous  as  that  of  Sharon,  mostly  an  expanse  of  sloping 
downs,  but  dotted  here  and  there  with  hugh  fields  of  corn  and  tracts  of 
wood  recalling  the  county  of  Kent,  and  reaching  to  the  southern  slopes 
of  Carmel,  with  their  rich  woods  and  park-like  scenery. 

Passing  still  northward,  from  Samaria  to  Galilee,  another  wide  plain  of 
great  fertility — that  of  Esdraelon — stretches  out  from  the  northern  side 
of  the  luxuriant  Carmel.  It  might,  under  a  good  government,  yield  vast 
crops,  but  the  inhabitants  are  few  and  poor,  and  tillage  is  imperfect. 
The  country  now  rapidly  improves.  Vegetation  is  much  more  luxuriant 
among  the  hills  of  Galilee  than  elsewhere  west  of  the  Jordan.  Fountains 
are  abundant  and  copious,  and  many  of  the  torrent  beds  are  never  dry. 
The  hills  become  more  and  more  richly  wooded  with  oaks  aiid  terebinths, 
while  ravines  occur  here  and  there  thickly  clothed,  in  addition,  with  the 
maple,  arbutus,  sumach,  and  other  trees.  The  hills  of  Judea  are  barren  ; 
those  of  Samaria  have  been  well  compared  to  the  hilly  districts  south  of 
Scotland ;  but  those  of  Galilee  are  more  like  the  rich  hills  of  Surrey. 
Yet  the  whole  region  is  thinly  peopled.  This  highland  paradise  has  far 
fewer  inhabitants  than  even  the  bleak  mountains  of  Judea,  where  for 
miles  and  miles,  there  is  often  no  appearance  of  life,  except  the  occasiona) 
goat-herd  on  the  hill-side,  or  the  gathering  of  women  at  the  wells. 

The  coast  of  the  Holy  Land,  as  has  been  said,  is  a  long  plain.  This,  on 
the  north,  is  a  mere  sti'ip,  till  near  Acre,  Ijut  it  spreads  out  from  that 
point,  into  a  flat,  i-ich,  loamy  plain,  at  first  only  a  few  feet  above  the  sea 
level.  Coi'n-fields  and  pasture-lands  reach  several  miles  inland.  South 
of  Carmel  it  expands  into  the  ])lain  of  Sh;iron,  now  left  bare  and  parched 
in  many  parts  ;  its  ancient  forests  long  ago  destroyed,  except  in  stray 
spots,  and  cultivation  little  known.  As  we  go  south,  the  soil  is  lighter 
and  drier,  and  the  vegetation  is  scantier,  till  we  reach  the  Shephelah,  or 
"  low  country"  of  the  Bible,  the  ancient  Philistia,  Avhich  begins  in  rolling 
downs,  and  passes  into  wide-spreading  cornfields  and  vast  expanses  of 
loamy  soil  to  the  far  south. 


IG  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

The  eastern  boundary  of  Palestine  is  the  deep  chasm  in  which  the  Jordan 
has  its  channel.  The  name  of  that  river  indicates  its  course  :  it  means 
"the  descender."  Eising  in  the  mountains  of  Lebanon,  it  flows  south, 
through  the  marshy  Lake  Merom  and  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  to  the  Dead 
Sea,  in  a  course  of  about  150  miles.  From  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  its  channel 
is  a  deep  cleft  in  the  mountain  range,  from  north  to  south,  and  so  broken 
is  its  current  that  it  is  one  continued  rapid.  Its  bed  is  so  crooked  that  it 
has  hardly  half  a  mile  straight ;  so  deep,  moreover,  is  it,  below  the  surface 
of  the  adjacent  country,  that  it  can  only  be  approaclied  by  descending  one 
of  the  steep  mountain  valleys,  and  it  is  invisiljle  till  near  its  entrance  into 
the  Dead  Sea,  at  a  level  of  1,317  feet  below  that  of  the  Mediterranean. 
There  is  no  town  on  its  banks,  and  it  has  in  all  ages  been  crossed  at  tlie 
same  fords ;  no  use  can  be  made  of  it  for  irrigation,  and  no  vessel  can  sail 
the  sea  into  which  it  pours  its  waters.     It  is  like  no  other  river. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

PALESTINE    AT   THE    TIME    OF   CIIIIIST. 

A  T  the  birth  of  Christ  the  striking  spectacle  presented  itself,  in  a 
■^-^  degree  unknown  before  or  since,  of  the  world  united  under  one 
sceptre.  From  the  Euphrates  to  the  Atlantic ;  from  the  mouths  of  the 
Rhine  to  the  slopes  of  the  Atlas,  the  Roman  Emjieror  was  the  solo  lord. 
The  Mediterranean  was,  in  the  truest  sense,  a  Roman  lake.  From  the 
pillars  of  Hercules  to  the  mouths  of  the  Nile,  on  its  southern  shores ;  from 
the  farthest  coast  of  Spain  to  Syria,  on  its  northern  ;  and  thence  round 
to  the  Nile  again,  the  midtitudes  of  iTien  now  divided  into  separate  nations, 
often  hostile,  always  distinct,  reposed  in  peace  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Roman  eagles.  There  might  be  war  on  the  far  eastern  frontier,  beyond 
the  Euphrates,  or  with  the  rude  tribes  in  the  German  forests  on  the  north, 
but  the  vast  Roman  world  enjoyed  the  peace  and  security  of  a  great 
organic  whole.  The  merchant  or  the  traveller  might  alike  pass  freely 
from  land  to  land  ;  trading  vessels  might  bear  their  ventures  to  any  port, 
for  all  lands  and  all  coasts  were  under  the  same  laws,  and  all  mankind, 
for  the  time,  were  citizens  of  a  common  State. 

At  the  head  of  this  stupendous  empire,  a  single  man,  Octavianus  CfEsar 
— now  better  known  by  his  imposing  title,  Augustus— ruled  as  absolute 
lord.  All  nations  bowed  before  him,  all  kingdoms  served  him.  It  is 
impossible  for  us,  in  the  altered  condition  of  things,  to  realize  adequately 
the  majesty  of  such  a  position.  Rome  itself,  the  cajjital  of  this  unique 
empire,  was  itself  unique  in  those  ages.  Its  population,  with  its  suburbs, 
has  been  variously  estimated  ;  some  writers,  as  Lepsius,  supposing  it  to 
have  been  eight  millions,  others,  like  Do  Quincey,  setting  it  down  as  not 
less  than  four  millions  at  the  very  least,  and  not  impossibly  lialf  as  many 
more.  On  the  other  hand,  Merivale  gives  it  as  only  half  a  million,  while 
others  make  it  two  millions  and  a  half.  Gibl>on  estimates  it  at  twelve 
hundred  thousand,  and  is  supported  in  his  supposition  by  Dean  Milraan, 


PALESTINE    AT    THE    TIME    OF    CHRIST.  17 

The  truth  lies  probably  between  the  extremes.  But  the  unique  grandeur 
of  Rome  Avas  independent  of  any  question  as  to  its  size  or  population : 
the  fact  that  arrested  all  minds  was,  rather,  that  a  mere  citj'  should  be  the 
resistless  mistress  of  the  habitable  world. 

Eound  the  office  and  person  of  the  Cissar,  who  onlj-,  of  all  rulers,  before 
or  since,  was  in  the  widest  sense  a  inonarcli  of  the  whole  race  of  men — • 
that  is,  one  ruling  alone,  over  all  nations — there  necessarily  gathered 
peculiar  and  incommunicable  attributes  of  grandeur.  Like  the  far- 
stretching  highways  which  rayed  out  from  the  golden  milestone  in  the 
Roman  Forum  to  the  utmost  frontiers,  the  illimitable  majesty  of  the 
emperor  extended  to  all  lands.  On  the  shadowy,  resistless,  uncertain,  but 
ever-advancing  frontiers  of  a  dominion  which  embraced  almost  the  whole 
habitable  world,  as  then  known,  tlie  commands  issued  from  the  imperial 
city  were  as  resistless  as  in  Italy.  There  were,  doubtless,  some  uiiknown 
or  despised  empires  or  tribes,  outside  the  vast  circumference  of  the  Roman 
sway,  but  they  were  regarded,  at  the  best,  as  Britain  looks  on  the  wander- 
ing hordes,  or  barbarous  and  powerless  empires,  beyond  the  limits  of  her 
Indian  possessions.  Gibbon  has  set  the  grandeur  of  Rome  in  a  vivid 
light,  by  doscriljing  the  position  of  a  sul:)3ect  who  should  attempt  to  flee 
from  the  wrath  of  a  Caesar.  "  The  empire  of  the  Romans,"'  says  he, 
"  filled  the  world,  and  when  that  empire  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  single 
person,  the  world  became  a  safe  and  dreary  prison  for  his  enemies.  The 
slave  of  imperial  despotism,  whether  he  was  condemned  to  drag  his 
gilded  chain  in  Rome  and  the  Senate,  or  to  wear  out  a  life  of  exile  on  the 
barren  rock  of  Seriphus,  or  on  the  frozen  banks  of  the  Danube,  expected 
his  fate  in  silent  despair.  To  resist  was  fatal,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
fly.  On  every  side  he  was  encompassed  with  a  vast  extent  of  sea  and 
land,  which  he  could  never  hope  to  traverse  without  being  discovered, 
seized,  and  restored  to  his  irritated  master.  Beyond  the  frontiers,  his 
anxious  view  could  discover  nothing  except  the  ocean,  inhospitable  deserts, 
hostile  tribes  of  barbarians,  of  fierce  manners  and  unknown  language,  or 
dependent  kings,  who  would  gladly  purchase  the  emperor's  protection  by 
the  sacrifice  of  an  obnoxious  fugitive.  '  Wherever  you  are,'  said  Cicero  to 
the  exiled  Marcellus,  '  remember  that  you  are  equally  within  the  power 
of  the  conqueror.' " 

At  the  birth  of  Christ  this  amazing  federation  of  the  world  into  one 
great  monarchy  had  been  finally  achieved.  Augustus,  at  Rome,  was  the 
sole  power  to  which  all  nations  looked.  His  throne,  like  the  "  exceeding 
high  mountain "  of  the  Temptation,  showed  "  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  their  glory,"  spread  out  around  it,  far  beneath,  as  the  earth  lies 
in  the  light  of  the  sun.  ISTo  prince,  no  king,  or  potentate,  of  any  name, 
could  break  the  calm  which  such  a  universal  dominion  secured — "a  calm," 
to  use  De  Quincey's  figure,  "  which,  through  centuries,  continued  to  lave, 
as  with  the  quiet  undulations  of  summer  lakes,  the  sacred  footsteps  of  the 
Cossarean  throne." 

It  was  in  such  a  unique  era  that  Jesus  Christ  was  born.  The  whole 
earth  lay  hushed  in  profound  peace.  All  lands  lay  freely  open  to  the 
message  of  mercy  and  love  which  He  came  to  announce. 

c 


18  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Nor  was  tlie  social  and  moral  condition  of  the  world  at  large,  at  the 
birth  of  Christ,  less  fitting  for  His  advent  than  the  political.  The  j^rize 
of  universal  power  struggled  for  through  sixty  years  of  plots  and  desola- 
ting civil  wars,  had  been  won  at  last,  by  Augustus.  Sulla  and  Marius, 
Pompey  and  Ctesar,  had  led  their  legions  against  each  other,  alike  in  Italy 
and  the  Provinces,  and  had  drenched  the  earth  with  blood.  Augustus 
himself  had  reached  the  throne  only  after  thirteen  years  of  war,  which 
involved  regions  v/ide  apart.  Tlie  world  was  exhausted  by  the  prolonged 
agony  of  such  a  strife  ;  it  sighed  for  repose,  and  perhaps  never  felt  a  more 
universal  joy  than  when  the  closing  of  the  Temple  of  Janus  in  the 
twenty-ninth  year  before  Christ  announced  that  at  last  the  earth  was  at 
peace. 

The  religions  of  antiquity  had  lost  their  vitality,  and  become  effete 
forms,  without  influence  on  the  heart.  Philosophy  was  the  consolation  of 
a  few — the  amusement  or  fashion  of  others  ;  but  of  no  weight  as  a  moral 
force  among  men  at  large.  On  its  best  side,  that  of  Stoicism,  it  had  much 
that  was  lofty,  but  its  highest  teaching  was  resignation  to  fate,  and  it 
offered  only  the  hurtful  consolation  of  pride  in  virtue,  without  an  idea  of 
humiliation  for  vice.  On  its  worst  side — that  of  Epicureanism — it  exalted 
self-indulgence  as  the  highest  end.  Faith  in  the  great  truths  of  natural 
religion  was  well-nigh  extinct.  Sixtj^-three  years  before  the  birth  of 
Christ,  Julius  Caesar,  at  that  time  the  Chief  Pontiff  of  Eome,  and,  as  such, 
the  highest  functionary  of  the  state  religion,  and  the  official  authority  in 
religious  questions,  openly  proclaimed,  in  his  speech  in  the  Senate,  in  re- 
ference to  Catiline  and  his  fellow-conspirators — that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  a  future  life ;  no  immortality  of  the  soul.  He  opposed  the 
execution  of  the  accused  on  the  ground  that  their  crimes  deserved  the 
severest  punishments,  and  that,  therefore,  they  should  be  kept  alive  to 
endure  them,  since  death  was  in  rcalitj"  an  escape  from  suffering,  not  an 
evil.  "  Death,"  said  he,  "  is  a  rest  from  troubles  to  those  in  grief  and 
misery,  not  a  punishment ;  it  ends  all  the  evils  of  life  ;  for  there  is  neither 
care  nor  joy  beyond  it." 

Nor  was  there  any  one  to  condemn  such  a  sentiment  even  from  such 
lips.  Cato,  the  ideal  Roman,  a  man  whose  aim  it  was  to  "fulfil  all  right- 
eousness," in  tiie  sense  in  which  he  understood  it,  passed  it  over  with  a 
few  words  of  light  banter  ;  and  Cicero,  wlio  was  also  present,  did  not  care 
to  give  either  assent  or  dissent,  but  left  the  question  open,  as  one  which 
miglit  be  decided  either  v/ay,  at  pleasure. 

Morality  was  entirely  divorced  from  religion,  as  may  be  readily  judged 
by  the  fact  that  the  most  licentious  rites  had  their  temples,  and  male  and 
female  ministrants.  In  Juvenal's  words,  "  the  Syrian  Orontes  had  flowed 
into  the  Tiber,"  and  it  brought  with  it  the  appalling  immorality  of  the 
East.  Doubtless,  here  and  there,  throughout  the  empire,  the  light  of  holy 
traditions  still  burned  on  the  altars  of  many  a  household  ;  but  it  availed 
nothins;  against  the  thick  moral  ni-'ht  that  had  settled  over  the  earth  at 
large.  The  advent  of  Christ  was  the  breaking  of  the  "  dayspring  from  on 
high"  through  a  gloom  that  had  been  gathering  for  ages;  a  great  light 
dawning  on  a  world  wliich  lay  in  darkness,  and  in  the  shadow  of  death. 


PALESTINE   AT    THE    TIME    OF    CHRIST.  19 

To  understand  the  condition  of  things  in  the  Holy  Land  in  the  lifetime 
of  Jesus,  it  is  necessary  to  notice  the  history  of  the  reign  that  was  closing 
at  His  birth,  for  religious  and  political  affairs  acted  and  reacted  on  the 
spirit  of  the  nation  as  only  two  phases  of  the  same  thing. 

The  reign  of  Alexander  Jannaeus,  of  the  Maccabrean  or  Asmonean  line, 
had  been  marked  by  the  bitterest  persecutions  of  the  Pharisaic  party, 
whose  insolence  and  arrogant  claims  had  caused  the  king  to  throw  him- 
self into  the  hands  of  their  Sadducean  rivals.  After  his  death  these  dis- 
putes continued  under  Queen  Alexandra,  who  favoured  the  Pharisees,  but 
the  disquiet  culminated,  after  her  death,  in  the  far  worse  evil  of  a  civil 
war  between  her  two  sons ;  the  elder,  Hyrcanus,  a  weak,  indolent  man ; 
the  younger,  Aristobulus,  on  the  other  hand,  bold  and  energetic.  Hyrcanus 
had  been  made  high  priest,  and  Aristobulus  had  been  kept  from  all  power 
during  Alexandra's  life— the  Pharisaic  party  themselves  holding  the  reins 
of  government  ;  but  she  was  hardly  dead  before  Aristobulus  forced  his 
brother  to  resign  the  throne,  to  which  he  had  succeeded,  arnd  left  him 
only  the  high  priesthood.  Hyrcanus  would,  apparently,  have  quietly 
acquiesced  in  this  change,  but  the  evil  genius  of  Aristobulus  and  of 
the  nation  was  present  in  the  person  of  an  influential  Edomite,  Antipater, 
who  had  gained  the  confidence  of  Hyrcanus.  Stirred  up  l)y  this  crafty 
intriguer,  the  elder  brother  re-claimed  the  throne — Arab  allies  were 
called  in — Jerusalem  was  besieged,  a.nd  both  the  brothers  appealed  to  the 
Roman  generals  in  Syria  for  a  decision  between  them.  As  the  result, 
Pompey,  then  commanding  in  the  East,  appeared  on  the  scene,  in  the  year 
63  "B.C. ;  got  possession  of  the  country  by  craft ;  stormed  the  Temple, 
which  held  out  for  Aristobulus,  and  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  Palestine. 
The  Pharisees  had  hoped  that  both  of  the  brothers  Avould  be  put  aside, 
and  the  theocracy,  which  meant  their  own  rule,  restored ;  but  Pompey, 
while  withholding  the  name  of  king,  set  up  Hyrcanus  as  high  priest  and 
ruler,  under  the  title  of  ethnarch.  All  the  conquests  of  the  Maccab^ans 
were  taken  from  him  :  the  country  was  redistributed  in  arbitrary  political 
divisions  ;  the  defences  of  Jei'usalem  throv/n  down,  and  the  nation  sub- 
jected to  triljute  to  Rome.  This,  itself,  would  have  been  enough  to  kindle 
a  deep  hatred  to  their  new  masters,  but  the  seeds  of  a  still  more  profound 
enmity  were  sown,  even  at  this  first  step  in  Roman  occupation,  by 
Pompey  and  his  staff  insisting  on  entering  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and  thus 
committing  what  seemed  to  the  Jev/  the  direst  profanation  of  his  re- 
ligion. 

Antipater  had  allied  himself  from  the  first  with  Rome  as  the  strongest, 
and  was  now  the  oljject  of  furious  hatred.  The  nation  had  supposed  that 
Pompey  came  as  a  friend,  to  heal  their  dissensions,  but  found  that  he  re- 
mained as  their  master.  Their  independence  was  lost,  and  Antipater  had 
been  the  cause  of  its  ruin.  It  is  perhaps  of  him  that  the  author  of  the 
Psalms  of  Solomon  speaks  when  he  says,  "  Why  sittest  thou,  the  unclean 
one,  in  the  Sanhedrim  and  thy  heart  is  far  from  the  Lord,  and  thou 
stirrest  up  with  thy  sins  the  God  of  Israel  ?  "  Treachery,  hypocrisy, 
adultery,  and  murder  are  charged  against  him,  and  he  is  compared  to  a 
biting  serpent.     Yet  the  guilt  of  the  -ijcojjIc,  it  is  owned,  had  brought 


20  THE   LIFE    OF  CHRIST. 

these  calamities  on  tliem.  Tlirougli  this,  tlie  ram  had  battered  the  holj 
"walls,  the  Holy  of  Holies  had  been  profaned,  the  noblest  of  the  Sanhedrim 
slain,  and  their  sons  and  daughters  carried  off  captive  to  the  West,  to 
grace  Pompey's  triumph.  At  the  thought  of  this  the  Psalmist  is  still 
more  cast  down,  and  humbles  himself  in  the  dust  before  the  retributive 
hand  of  Jehovah. 

But  there  was  no  peace  for  Israel.  War  lingered  on  the  southern 
borders,  and  in  B.C.  67  Alexander,  the  son  of  Aristobulus,  once  more  over- 
threw the  government  of  Hyrcanus  and  Antipater,  but  the  Romans 
forthwith  came  in  force,  and  crushed  the  revolt  by  another  conquest  of 
Jerusalem.  In  this  campaign  a  cavalry  colonel,  Mark  Antony,  so  espe- 
cially distinguished  himself,  that  the  keen-sighted  Antipater,  seeing  he 
had  a  great  future,  formed  friendly  relations  with  him,  which  led  to  the 
weightiest  results  in  later  years. 

Hyrcanus  and  his  favourite  were  now  again  in  power,  but  they  had  a 
troubled  life.  The  people  rose  again  and  again,  only  to  be  as  constantly 
crushed.  In  B.C.  56,  Aristobulus,  who  had  escaped  from  Rome,  began  the 
war  once  more,  and  the  next  year,  his  son  Alexander  made  another  vain 
revolt.  In  B.C.  52,  when  the  Parthians  had  revenged  themselves  by  the 
destruction  of  the  legions  of  Crassus— who,  in  time  of  peace,  had  plundered 
the  Temple  to  fill  his  own  treasures — the  Jews  rose  still  once  more,  but 
Cassius,  who  had  escaped  with  the  wreck  of  the  army  of  Crassus  from  the 
Parthian  horsemen,  soon  crushed  the  insurrection,  and  Antipater  emerged 
as,  at  last,  the  unfettered  lord  of  the  country. 

The  civil  war  which  broke  out,  in  the  year  49,  between  Pompey  and 
Ca3sar,  for  a  time  promised  a  change.  Judea,  like  all  the  East,  adhered 
to  Pompey,  and  Caesar  therefore  set  the  imprisoned  Aristobulus  free,  and 
gave  him  two  legions  to  clear  his  native  countiy  of  the  adherents  of  his 
rival.  Antipater  and  Hyrcanus  already  trembled  at  the  thought  of  a 
popular  revolt,  supported  by  Rome,  when  news  came  that  Aristobulus 
had  suddenly  died— no  doubt  of  poison — and  that  his  son  Alexander  had 
been  beheaded,  in  Antioch,  by  Pompey's  orders.  Antipater  had  thus 
managed  to  get  his  enemies  out  of  the  way.  When  Pompey's  cause  was 
finally  crushed,  next  year,  at  Pharsalia,  Hyrcanus  and  Antipater,  like  the 
princes  round  them,  were  in  a  false  position.  Six  weeks  later,  Pompey 
lay  murdered  on  the  Egyptian  sands.'  Meanwhile,  Cassar,  who  had  landed 
in  Egypt,  at  the  head  of  hardly  4,000  men,  to  settle  the  disputes  for  the 
throne  of  that  country,  was  attacked  by  the  native  soldiery  and  the  rest- 
less population  of  Alexandria,  and  reduced  to  the  most  desperate  straits. 
At  this  moment  a  motley  army  of  Eastern  vassals  came  to  his  relief, 
anxious  to  efface  at  the  eai-liest  opportunity  the  remembrance  of  their 
relations  to  Pompey.  It  included  hordes  of  Arabs  from  Damascus,  and 
bands  of  Itureans  from  beyond  Jordan,  but  its  strength  lay  in  3,000 
chosen  troops  brought  by  Antipater.  The  strange  host  was  nominally 
commanded  by  Mithridates  of  Pergamos,  a  bastard  of  the  great  Mithri- 
dates,  but  Antipater  was  the  real  head.  He  induced  the  Bedouin  leaders 
on  the  opposite  side  to  withdraw,  and  persnadcd  the  Egyptian  Jews  to 
supply  Cassar  Avith  provisions.     After  fierce  fighting,  the  Roman  fortune 


PALESTINE   AT   THE   TIME   OF   CHRIST.  21 

triumphed,  and  Ctesar,  now  enamoured  of  Cleopatra,  then  one-and-twenty 
3^ears  of  age,  remained  conqueror.  Alexandria  was  heavily  punished  :  the 
Egyptian  Jews  received  extensive  privileges,  but  the  affairs  of  Palestine 
were  left  to  be  settled  when  Cassar  came  ))ack  from  Pontus,  in  Asia 
Minor,  to  which  he  had  been  summoned  to  repel  an  invasion  from  Armenia. 

On  his  return  to  Syria,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  47,  Antijiater  hastened 
to  meet  him,  as  did  also  Antigonus,  a  son  of  Aristobulus.  But  the  wounds 
of  Antipater,  received  in  rescuing  Ctesar  from  destruction,  weighed  more 
than  the  hereditary  claims  of  Antigonus,  who,  feeling  this,  fled  to  the 
Parthians,  to  seek  the  aid  which  Rome  refused.  In  other  respects,  the 
Jews  were  treated  in  the  friendliest  way.  Those  of  Lesser  Asia  were 
confirmed  in  the  privilege  of  unchecked  remittance  of  their  Temple  con- 
tributions to  Jerusalem.  Their  synagogues  were  put  under  the  protection 
of  the  Temple  laws,  and  they  were  once  more  granted  immunity  from  all 
demands  for  pul^lic  ser-vice  on  the  Sabbath,  and  on  the  jireparation-day, 
from  the  sixth  hour.  In  Palestine,  Hyrcanus  was  sanctioned  as  high 
priest ;  the  five  divisions  of  the  land  previously  made  were  put  aside,  and 
the  whole  united  under  Antipater,  as  procurator.  The  Jews  in  all  thcs 
towns  of  Syria  and  Phenicia  were  put  on  the  same  favoured  footing  as 
those  of  the  Holy  Land  itself.  ISTo  troops  Avere  to  bo  raised  in  Judea,  nor 
any  Roman  garrisons  introduced.  The  Temple  tax  and  the  Roman  dues 
were  regulated  according  to  Jewish  usage.  Hyrcanus,  as  high  priest, 
received  the  rank  of  a  Roman  senator,  and  was  made  hereditary  ethnarch, 
with  the  right  of  life  and  death,  and  of  legal  decision  on  all  questions  of 
ritual.  Still  more,  the  right  was  granted  to  fortify  Jerusalem  again,  and 
Antipater,  for  his  own  reward,  was  made  a  Roman  citizen,  with  freedom 
from  taxes  on  his  property.  The  Idumean  dynasty  may  be  said  to  have 
begun  from  this  date,  as  the  procuratorship  granted  to  Antipater  made 
him  henceforth  independent  of  Hyrcanus.  All  these  concessions  he  took 
care  to  have  forthwith  confirmed  at  Rome,  and  graven  on  plates  of 
brass. 

These  diplomatic  successes,  hoAvever,  failed  to  make  Antipater  popular. 
He  assumed  some  of  the  public  duties  of  Hyrcanus,  to  show  tlie  Sanhedrim 
that  the  civil  power  had  been  rightly  transferred  from  the  incapable  hands 
of  the  high  priest.  But  the  suspicion  sank  ever  deeper  in  the  popular 
mind,  that  the  final  setting  aside  of  the  Maccabasan  family  was  designed, 
and  it  was  even  said  that  the  Essenc  Menahcm  had  told  Herod,  Antipater's 
son,  years  before,  as  he  met  him  on  the  street,  that  he  Avould  grow  up  to 
be  the  scourge  of  the  Maccabajans,  and  would  in  the  end  wear  the  crown 
of  David.  Yet  Hyrcanus  could  not  shake  himself  free,  even  had  he  had 
the  energy  to  do  so,  for  he  needed  the  help  of  the  alien  to  protect  him 
against  his  own  family.  His  daughter  Alexandra  had  lost,  on  his  account, 
both  husband  and  father-in-law,  by  foul  or  legal  murder.  His  nephew, 
Antigonus,  lived  in  a  foreign  land  as  a  claimant  of  the  throne;  his  grand- 
children were  the  orphans  of  Alexander,  who  had  fallen  under  the  axe  of 
the  headsman.  The  house  of  the  Idumean,  the  alien  in  Israel,  was  nearer 
to  him  than  his  own  flesh  and  blood. 

Antipater,  in  accordance  with  the  tradition  of  his  house,  had  married  a 


22  THE    LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

daughter  of  the  Bodouins — the  fair  Kypros— to  preserve  the  connection 
with  the  sheikhs  of  the  desert  by  which  liis  father  had  grown  rich.  She 
bore  him  four  sons,  Phasael,  Herod,  Joseph,  and  Pheroras,  and  a  daughter, 
Salome.  Of  these,  Antipatei^  as  ruler  of  the  country,  named  Phasael 
governor  of  Jerusalem,  and  Herod — a  young  man  of  twenty-five — he  sent 
to  Galilee,  to  put  down  the  bands  of  desperadoes,  who  thickly  infested  it, 
half  robbers,  half  religious  zealots,  fighting  against  the  hated  Eomans. 
Herod  was  well  qualified  to  maintain  the  honour  of  liis  house.  He  was  a 
fearless  rider,  and  no  one  threw  the  spear  so  straight  to  the  mai-k,  or  shot 
his  aiTow  so  constantly  into  the  centre.  Even  in  later  years,  when 
strength  and  agility  begin  to  fail  in  most,  he  was  known  to  have  killed 
forty  wild  beasts  in  one  day's  hunting.  Herod  took  prisoner  Hezekiah, 
the  dreaded  leader  of  the  "  robbers,''  and  his  whole  band,  and  put  them 
all  to  death.  But  his  success  only  enraged  the  patriots  of  Jerusalem.  In 
violation  of  the  right  put  exclusively  into  the  hands  of  Hyrcanus,  as  high 
priest,  by  Cassar,  he  had  slain  free  Jews — and  these,  men  fighting  for  the 
Law,  and  against  the  heathen  intruders  into  the  heritage  of  Jehovah  ;  and 
the  Sanhedrim — the  high  coimcil— forced  their  nominal  leader,  whose 
legal  prerogative  had  been  thus  invaded,  to  summon  the  offender  before 
them.  Herod  obeyed,  after  having  made  Galilee  safe,  but  appeared  with 
a  powerful  escort ;  and  at  the  same  time,  a  message  was  sent  by  the 
pro-consul  of  Syria  not  to  injure  him.  He  would,  however,  have  been 
sentenced  to  death,  had  not  Hyrcanus  left  the  chair,  and  counselled  his 
young  friend  to  leave  Jerusalem.  Gnashing  his  teeth,  Herod  rode  off  to 
Damascus,  to  the  proconsul,  from  whom  he  shortly  after  boiTght  the 
governorship  of  Coele-Syria  and  Samaria,  for  which,  as  a  Eoman  citizen, 
he  was  qualified,  returning  soon  after,  with  a  strong  force  to  Jerusalem, 
to  avenge  the  insult  offered  him.  But,  at  the  entreat}^  of  his  father, 
whom  his  boldness  confirmed  in  authority,  he  withdrew,  without  vio- 
lence. 

All  Palestine  was  now  in  the  hands  of  Herod's  house,  for  Antipater 
ruled  Judea,  and  Herod  himself  was  over  Samaria  and  Coele-Syria.  The 
Roman  generals  were  uncertain  whom  to  follow.  Caesar's  fortunes 
seemed  waning  in  Africa.  Bassus,  one  of  Pompey's  party,  seized  Tyre, 
and  sought  to  seduce  the  soldiers  of  Sextus  Caesar,  the  Syrian  proconsul. 
Antipater  sent  a  mixed  force,  and  Herod  led  the  cavalry  of  Samaria,  to 
the  proconsul's  help.  Bassus  v.^as  beaten,  but  Sextus  Cajsar  himself  was 
murdered  by  his  own  soldiers,  and  for  two  years  Phasael  and  Herod  had 
to  maintain  a  difficult  war.  At  last,  in  the  year  44,  the  news  ca,me,  when 
all  were  expecting  Caesar  in  the  East,  that  he  was  murdered.  The  schemes 
of  Herod's  family  seemed  ruined. 

Things,  however,  soon  righted  themselves.  Antony  began  to  play  a 
leading  part  in  Rome,  and  had  all  the  edicts  of  Cajsar  confirmed,  to  pre- 
vent hopeless  confusion.  Interest  led  Antipater  for  that  time  to  join 
Cassius,  Cassar's  murderer.  Herod  won  favour  as  the  first  to  i^ay  him 
the  war  tax  of  about  £'150,000,  levied  on  Galilee.  Antipater  showed  equal 
zeal ;  but  when  the  people  were  too  j^oor  to  pay  the  enormous  sum  de- 
manded, Cassius  sold  their  sons  and  daughters  as  slaves,  to  make  it  up. 


PALESTINjE    at   the    time    op    CHRIST.  23 

Feeling  Herod's  usefulness,  the  republican  leader,  on  leaving  Judea 
named  him  procurator  of  Coele- Syria,  and  gave  him  also  military  power 
over  all  Judea,  promising  him  the  crown,  if  all  went  well.  The  Idumean 
family  were  still  on  the  top  of  the  tide.  But  Antipater's  course  was  run. 
Shortly  before  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  in  the  year  43,  he  died  of  poison 
given  him  in  his  wine.  The  murderer  was  well  known — a  follower  of 
Hyrcanus,  Malichus  by  name — who  wished  to  excite  insurrection  in  the 
Maccabcean's  favour,  against  the  Romans  and  their  Idumean  viceroy. 
Herod  and  his  brother,  with  well-acted  craft,  feigned  friendliness  with  him, 
till,  a  year  later,  they  got  him  into  their  power,  and  murdered  him,  in 
turn,  with  the  help  of  Cassius.  Hyrcanus  kissed  the  hands  of  his  new 
master,  and  cursed  the  murdered  man  as  the  enemy  of  his  country  ! 

The  year  43  closed  with  wild  troubles  all  over  the  land.  The  son  of 
Malichus  on  the  south,  and  Antigonus  on  the  north,  invaded  the  land ; 
but  Herod  overthrew  them  both.  The  weak  Hyrcanus,  who  still  dreaded 
the  house  of  Aristobulus,  received  the  conqueror  in  Jerusalem,  with 
childish  gratitude.  Herod  availed  himself  of  this  to  ask  Mariamne, 
daughter  of  Alexander,  whom  Pompey  had  beheaded,  and  grand-daughter 
of  Hyrcanus  himself,  in  marriage.  He  had  already  one  wife,  Dorig,  who 
had  borne  him  a  son,  Antipater ;  but  she  was  now  sent  away,  and  went 
off  to  bring  up  her  son  in  deadly  hatred  of  the  Maccabtean  family,  who 
had  taken  her  young  husband  from  her. 

The  hopes  of  the  Jewish  patriots  revived  once  more  after  the  battle  of 
Philipi^i,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  42.  It  was  left  to  Antony  to  pay  the 
soldiers,  after  the  battle,  what  had  been  jDromised  them ;  and  to  raise  the 
vast  sums  required,  by  war  taxes  and  the  sale  of  titles,  he  moved  towards 
Asia.  Here  a  deputation  of  Jews  protesting  against  Herod  and  Phasael's 
government  -vv^aited  on  him ;  but  Herod  had  always  been  friendly  to  the 
Romans,  and  was  better  provided  with  money  than  the  people.  Antony, 
for  his  part,  hated  the  Jews,  and  liked  Herod,  as  the  son  of  an  old  com- 
rade, with  whom,  eighteen  years  before,  he  had  fought  against  the  very 
people  who  now  accused  his  son  before  him.  Hyrcanus  himself  appeared 
in  Ephesus  on  behalf  of  the  two  brothers,  and  they  themselves  played 
their  part  so  well  that  they  were  not  only  confirmed  in  their  ov>rn  posi- 
tions, but  received  substantial  favours  besides. 

Antony  v/as  one  of  those  undisciplined  natures  which  revolutionary 
times  produce — a  man  of  powerful  but  neglected  parts,  who  had  grown 
up  in  the  shattered  and  utterly  imraoi'al  Roman  world  ;  unbridled  in  his 
l^assions,  and,  amidst  all  the  energy  of  his  will,  without  moral  restraint. 
When  in  Egypt,  as  colonel  of  horse,  he  had  for  the  first  time  seen  Cleo- 
patra, then  fourteen  years  old,  but  already  flirting  with  the  son  of 
Pompey.  In  the  years  B.C.  46  to  44  she  was  living  in  Caesar's  gardens  at 
Rome  as  that  gi'eat  man's  mistress,  and  there  Antony  had  been  amongst 
the  most  zealous  in  paying  her  honour.  After  Caesar's  death  he  had 
done  her  service,  and  tried  to  get  her  son  Csesarion  put  on  the  list  of 
CiEsar's  heirs.  But,  like  Herod,  she  had  been  forced  to  go  to  war  against 
Antony,  because  the  camp  of  Cassius  was  nearer  than  that  of  his  op- 
ponent.    For  this  she  was  summoned  before  him,  and  made  her  appear- 


24  THE   LII?E    OF   CHRIST. 

ance  at  Tarsus,  in  Cilicia,  in  tlie  summer  of  41.  She  was  now  twenty- 
eight,  but  still  in  the  bloom  of  her  beauty,  and  displayed  her  charms  so 
effectively  that  Antony  was  forthwith  her  slave.  His  worst  deeds  begin 
from  the  time  he  met  her.  To  please  her  he  caused  her  sister  to  be 
dragged  out  of  a  temple  in  Miletus  and  murdered,  and  he  put  to  death  all 
she  chose  to  denounce.  She  herself  hastened  to  Egypt,  whither  Antony 
panted  to  follow  her. 

In  Antioch,  in  Syria,  in  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  he  would  have 
put  to  death  a  Jewish  deputation  sent  to  protest  against  the  two  brothers, 
had  not  Herod  prevented  him.  The  two  were,  moreover,  appointed 
tetrarchs,  with  all  formality.  At  Tyre,  to  which  he  had  advanced, 
thousands  of  Jews  threw  themselves  in  his  way  with  loud,  persistent, 
fanatical  cries  that  he  should  depose  the  brothers.  Angry  before,  he  was 
now  furious,  and  set  his  troops  on  them  and  hewed  them  down,  killing 
even  the  prisoners  taken.  He  then  moved  on  to  spend  the  winter  with 
Cleopatra. 

Throughout  Judca  and  even  in  Egypt  the  deepest  despondency  reigned 
among  the  Jews.  The  advent  of  the  Messiah  was  to  be  preceded  by  times 
of  darkness  and  trouble,  and  so  gloomy  seemed  the  state  of  things  then 
prevailing  that  it  appeared  as  if  the  long-expected  One  must  be  close  at 
hand.  The  belief  or,  at  least,  hope,  found  expression  in  the  writings  of 
the  day.  The  Jewish  Sibylline  Books,  composed  in  Egypt  in  these  j'ears, 
predicted  that  "  when  Rome  once  rules  over  Egypt,  then  will  the  greatest 
of  the  kingdoms,  that  of  the  Immortal  King,  appear  among  men,  and  a 
Holy  Lord  shall  come,  who  will  rule  all  the  countries  of  the  earth  through 
all  ages,  as  time  flows  on." 

In  Palestine  there  was  great  excitement.  After  their  bloody  inaugura- 
tion into  their  office  by  Antony,  the  two  tetrarchs,  Phasael  and  Herod, 
could  count  on  few  faithful  subjects,  and  a  new  storm  soon  rose  from  the 
East  which  threatened  to  destroy  them.  Since  they  had  sold  themselves 
to  the  Romans,  the  exiled  Maccaba3an  prince  had  conspired  more  eagerly 
with  the  Parthians,  and  had  been  supported  in  his  appeal  by  Roman 
exiles  of  the  party  of  Tirutus  and  Cassius.  The  Parthians  hesitated  long, 
but  at  last  the  rumour  came  that  they  were  preparing  for  war.  Jerusalem 
trembled,  for  the  Euphrates  was  undefended,  and  there  were  still  gar- 
risons of  the  republicans,  which  could  not  be  trusted,  all  through  Syria. 
The  action  of  Antony  in  such  a  crisis  was  impatiently  awaited;  but  feast- 
ing and  pleasures  reigned  in  Alexandria.  The  queen  played  at  dice  with 
the  Triumvir;  drank  and  hunted  with  him  ;  wandered  through  the  streets 
by  night  with  him,  playing  rough  tricks  ;  she,  dressed  as  a  servant-woman, 
he,  as  a  servant-man.  She  let  him  escape  her  neither  by  night  nor  day. 
Her  extravagance  was  unparalleled ;  at  a  dinner  she  drank  crushed  pearls, 
that  the  cost  of  a  meal  might  come  to  a  million  sestertii,  as  she  liad 
wagered  it  would.  There  was  no  end  of  her  light  follies,  to  amuse  him  ; 
she  had  foreign  pickled  fish  hung  by  divers  on  his  hooks  as  he  fished,  and 
induced  the  senator  Plancus  to  dance  as  Glaucus,  naked,  at  one  of  her 
banquets,  painted  blue,  his  head  wreathed  with  sea-weed,  and  waving  a 
tail  behind  him,  as  he  went  gliding  on  all  fours.     The  costliest  meals  were 


PALESTINE    AT   THE    TIME    01^^    CHRIST.  25 

ftfc  all  times  ready  in  the  castle,  foi'  the  cook  never  knew  when  they  would 
need  to  be  served  up. 

Sunk  in  this  sensual  indulgence,  Antony  left  it  to  the  proconsul  of 
Syria  to  defend  that  province,  till  forced,  in  the  spring  of  the  year  40,  to 
go  to  Greece,  to  manage  a  war  which  his  wife  had  stirred  up,  to  draw  him 
aAvay  from  Cleoi^atra.  Meanwhile,  Asia  Minor  Avas  overrun  by  the  Par- 
thians,  and  Phasael  and  Herod  saw  themselves  exposed  to  an  early  inroad, 
against  which  they  were  helpless. 

And  now,  to  use  the  fine  figure  of  Hausrath,  there  rose  again  before 
Hj-rcanus,  as  if  from  some  long-disused  church3ard,  the  ghost  of  that 
dynastic  question  which  for  thirty  years  had  haunted  the  palace,  and 
could  not  be  laid.  His  nephew  Antigoniis  came  from  Chalcis,  where  he 
had  been  living  with  a  relative,  and  obtained  help  from  the  Parthian 
leader,  on  the  promise  of  giving  him  1,000  talents  and  500  wives,  if  he 
were  restored  to  the  throne.  At  Carmel,  Antigonus  was  greeted  with 
shouts,  as  king,  and  he  liastencd  on  to  Jerusalem,  where  part  of  the  people 
joined  him.  The  tetrarchs  succeeded  in  driving  him  and  his  adherents 
into  the  Temple,  and  shutting  them  up  in  it :  but  daily  fights  took  place 
in  the  streets,  and,  as  Pentecost  was  near,  and  crowds  of  armed  and  half- 
armed  pilgrims  arrived  in  the  city,  the  brothers  were,  in  their  turn,  shut 
up  in  their  palace,  from  which,  however,  their  soldiers  made  constant 
sallies,  butchering  the  crowds  like  sheep.  At  last  the  cup-bearer  of  the 
Parthian  prince  came  to  the  gate  with  600  cavalry,  asking  entrance  as  a 
mediator  between  the  factions,  and  was  admitted  by  Phasael,  who  was 
even  weak  enough  to  let  himself  be  persuaded  to  set  out  for  the  Parthian 
head-quarters,  taking  Hyrcanus  with  him,  to  conclude  arrangements  for 
peace.  At  Ptolcmais  they  found  themselves  prisoners,  and  were  soon  after 
fettered  and  put  in  confinement.  Herod,  meanwhile,  had  refused  to  listen 
to  similar  treacherous  invitations,  and  having  mounted  his  family  on 
mules  by  night,  set  off  with  them,  in  the  darkness,  towards  the  strong 
fortress  Masada,  on  the  Dead  Sea,  Avlicre  his  brother  Joseph  had  command, 
reaching  it  only  after  terrible  fighting  in  the  passes  of  the  hills.  Leaving 
his  women  behind  in  safety,  and  taking  his  men  with  him,  he  now  fled 
towards  Edom;  biit  as  he  had  no  money, the  sheikhs  of  Mount  Seir  refused 
to  receive  him. 

In  the  meantime  the  Parthians  had  thrown  off  the  mask  in  Jerusalem, 
had  plundered  the  city,  and  were  sweeping  like  a  devouring  fire  through  the 
land,  proclaiming  Antigonus  everywhere  as  king.  In  the  camp,  Hyrcanus 
was  the  first  to  do  homage  to  the  new  sovereign,  but  Antigonus  flew  at 
him,  and  with  his  oavu  teeth  bit  off  his  ears,  to  vinfit  him  for  ever  for  the 
high  priesthood,  and  then  sent  him  beyond  the  Euphrates  as  a  prisoner. 
Phasael  escaped  further  insult  Ijy  a  voluntary  death.  Deprived  of 
weapons,  he  beat  out  his  brains  against  the  walls  of  his  dungeon.  Anti- 
gonus now  assumed  the  name  of  Mattathias,  from  the  founder  of  the 
Maccabsean  family, —  and  the  titles  of  high  piiest  and  king.  But  his 
position  was  insecure,  for  Masada  still  held  out,  and  was  defended  by 
Joseph,  Herod's  brother,  for  two  years,  till  Herod  relieved  it.  The  bar- 
barities of  the  Parthians,  moreover,  undermined  his  authority.     On  their 


26  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

small  horses  of  the  steppes  tliey  scoured  the  country  in  troops,  mangling 
the  men,  maltreating  the  women,  burning  down  whole  towns,  and  tor- 
turing even  the  defenceless.  No  wonder  that,  though  a  Parthian  never 
watered  his  horse  in  the  Jordan  after  the  year  B.C.  38,  the  memory  of 
these  mounted  hordes  lingered  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  so  that  even 
St.  John  introduces  them  in  the  Apocalypse,  as  a  symbol  of  the  plagues 
of  the  final  judgment,  which  were  to  destroy  a  third  part  of  men. 

Herod,  repelled  from  Idumea,  fled  to  Egypt,  which  Antony  had  left  at 
the  beginning  of  the  year  40.  Cleopatra,  however,  gave  him  a  friendly 
and  even  distinguished  welcome,  thinking  she  could  win  him  over  to  her 
service,  and  use  him  as  general  against  the  Parthians.  But  Herod  had 
higher  aims.  Braving  the  danger  of  autumn  storms,  he  set  sail  for  Home, 
was  shipwrecked  off  Rhodes,  built  a  new  trireme  with  borrowed  money, 
reached  Italy  soon  after,  and  on  getting  to  Rome  found  there  both 
Octavian  and  Antony.  Before  them  he  had  his  cause  pleaded  so  skilfully 
that  the  Senate  unanimously  appointed  him  King  of  Judea,  and  he  was 
formally  installed  in  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  with  the  usual 
heathen  sacrifices.  Seven  days  later  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  Palestine, 
and  the  cause  of  Antigonus  was  doomed.  This  new  dignity,  however, 
carried  in  its  bosom  the  seeds  of  all  Herod's  future  misery.  Hyrcanus, 
though  disqualified  for  being  high  priest,  could  yet  be  ethnarch,  and  his 
grand-child  Aristobulus,  brother  to  Mariamne,  Herod's  betrothed,  was 
alive.  Plerod's  kingship  was  a  wrongful  usurpation  of  the  rights  of 
both. 

Meanwhile,  the  position  of  Antigonus  was  getting  desp'erate.  The 
cruelties  of  the  Parthians,  the  failure  to  take  Masada,  and  a  fresh  out- 
break on  a  great  scale,  in  Galilee  and  on  the  Lake  of  Gennesareth,  of  zeal 
against  the  heathen  oppressors  of  the  land,had  turned  the  Rabbis  and  the 
Sanhedrim,  hitherto  his  supporters,  against  him.  Nor  were  the  peojile 
more  friendly.  As  he  left  the  Temple  on  the  Day  of  Atonement,  accom- 
panied by  a  crowd,  to  conduct  him  to  his  palace,  the  multitude  turned 
away  to  follow  two  Rabbis  who  chanced  to  pass.  Yet  Herod  was  still,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  nation,  only  "the  servant  of  the  Asmoneans." 

Herod  began  the  war  against  Antigoniis  with  the  assui-ance  of  Roman 
help,  but  Silo,  the  Roman  general,  let  himself  be  bribed  by  Antigonus, 
and  Herod  had  to  struggle  single-handed.  The  Romans  only  plundered 
Jericho,  and  quartered  themselves  idly  on  the  nation  at  large.  Herod 
had  to  turn  against  the  zealots  of  Galilee,  since  he  could  get  no  help 
towards  more  serious  efforts ;  and  he  soon  extirpated  them.  The  Par- 
thians, however,  by  this  time  had  been  driven  out  of  Asia  Minor  and 
Syria,  and  finally  crushed,  in  a  great  battle  on  the  Euphrates.  Two  new 
legions  were  now  free  to  aid  Herod,  but  their  general,  like  Silo,  cared 
only  for  making  monej^  and,  like  him,  took  a  bribe  from  Antigonus.  In 
the  meantime,  Joseph,  Herod's  brother,  fell  in  battle,  and  this  roused 
Herod,  who  was  always  faithful  to  his  family,  to  fury.  With  only  a  non- 
descript army  he  burst  on  Galilee  and  Judea,  and  drove  the  Maccabajans 
before  him  like  chaff.  Except  Jerusalem,  the  whole  land  was  now  his, 
and  he  set  himself  to  the  task  of  taking  the  capital.     For  two  years,  with 


THE    EEIGN    OF   HEROD.  27 

only  raw  recruit.s  who  knew  nothing,  veterans  who  had  forgotten  every- 
thing, Itureans  who  took  his  pay  and  did  as  little  as  possible  for  it,  and 
treacherous  allies,  he  had  fought  against  a  fanatical  people,  who  turned 
every  hamlet  and  cavern  into  a  fortress.  It  needed  a  genius  and  a  super- 
human energy  like  his  to  triumph  in  such  a  war.  In  the  early  spring  of 
37  B.C.  he  proceeded  to  invest  Jerusalem,  but  thought  it  politic,  before  the 
siege  actually  began,  to  go  to  Samaria  and  marry  Mariamne,  the  grand- 
daughter of  Ilyrcanus,  his  rival  and  enemy.  The  Samaritans,  in  their 
hatred  of  the  JMaccaba^an  dynastj-,  had  Ijccn  Herod's  devoted  supporters 
in  the  war  ;  and  he  had  honoured  their  loyalty  by  placing  his  bride,  and 
the  rest  of  his  family,  in  their  keeping,  at  Samaria,  when  it  first  broke 
out.  He  was  no  sooner  married  than  the  work  of  blood  once  more  began. 
Jerusalem  was  besieged  by  his  army  of  Samaritans,  friendly  Jews,  wild 
Idumeans,  and  mercenaries  from  Phcnicia  and  Lebanon,  and  fell  on  the 
10th  of  June,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  which  Avas  followed  by  wild  pillage  and 
slaughter.  Antigonus  was  taken  prisoner,  and  was  put  to  death  by  the 
Eoman  general,  at  Herod's  entreat}-,  after  he  had  suffered  the  outrage, 
hitherto  unknown  towards  a  prince,  of  being  scourged  like  a  slave.  Thus 
another  Asmonean  was  out  of  the  way.  The  family  had  reigned  126 
years.  Herod  was  now  really  king.  A  great  bribe  to  the  Roman  army 
freed  the  country  of  the  burden  of  the  Roman  support,  and  the  misery  of 
its  lawlessness.  A  bloody  proscription,  after  the  pattern  of  that  of  the 
Eoman  triumvirate,  mowed  down  all  enemies  within  the  city,  the  gates  of 
which  were  closed  till  the  executions  were  ended.  In  the  midst  of  this, 
Antony,  once  more  beside  Cleopatra,  in  Egypt,  and  needing  endless  wealth 
for  their  mutual  prodigalities,  sent  a  demand  to  all  the  kingdoms  he  con- 
trolled,— Judea  amongst  others, — for  a  vast  sum  of  money.  Herod  had 
only  an  empty  treasury  ;  a  country  strewn  with  ruins  and  smoking  heaps  ; 
and,  moreover,  it  Avas  the  Sabbath  year,  in  which  the  laws  made  by  Ctesar 
prohibited  the  levying  any  tax.  The  proscription  had  therefore  to  be 
made  a  means  of  raising  funds,  as  had  been  done  by  Octavian  and  Antony, 
at  Rome.  Forty-five  of  his  richest  opponents  were  put  to  death,  and  their 
property  confiscated  so  ruthlessly,  that  even  their  coffins  were  searched  at 
the  city  gates  for  jewels  or  money.  Many  were  glad  to  escape  death  by 
giving  up  all  they  had.  "  The  oppression  and  tyranny  had  no  limit,"  says 
Josephus.  Herod,  however,  was  none  the  richer,  for  he  had  to  send  off 
the  whole  crown  treasures  of  the  Asmoneaus  to  Laodicea,  to  help  to  make 
up  the  amount  demanded  from  him. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    EEIGN    OF    HEROD. 


T 


HE  position  of  Herod  was  difficult  in  the  extreme.  He  had  everything 
to  reorganize.  Galilee  lay  exhausted  by  brigandage,  entire  towns 
were  unpeopled,  as  Lydda,  Thamna,  Goplina,  and  Emmaus,  whose  inhabi- 
tants had  been  sold  by  Cassius  as  slaves.     Jericho  had  been  taken  and 


28  THE  LIFE   OF  CHRIST. 

plundered  once  and  again  :  five  towns  round  it  lay  in  rubbish  and  asbes  ; 
Marissa  had  been  burned  down  by  the  Parthians ;  and  in  the  midst  of  all, 
the  l)leeding  land  had  to  be  harried  afresh,  to  satisfy  Cleopatra  and  her 
slave,  Antony.  But  the  genius  of  Herod  erelong  built  up  a  strong  govern- 
ment out  of  this  chaos,  surrounding  himself  with  his  old  friends,  and 
ruthlessly  crushing  his  enemies.  Filling  posts,  where  needful  or  desirable, 
with  foreigners  of  any  nation,  he  yet  strove  to  keep  on  a  good  footing 
with  the  Eabbis  and  the  Pharisee  pai*ty  at  large,  but  gradually  took  from 
their  Sanhedrim  and  schools  the  legal  and  civil  powers  they  had  exercised, 
leaving  tliem  the  control  only  of  municipal  and  ecclesiastical  details.  A 
high  priest  was  appointed,  such  as  the  times  seemed  to  demand.  !N"o 
native  could  be  trusted ;  Hyrcanus,  avIio  still  survived  in  Bal:)ylon,  was 
disqualified ;  Aristobulus,  the  king's  brother-in-law,  was  too  young,  and 
Herod  was  a  born  Idumean.  A  Eabbi  from  Babylon  was  therefore  selected 
as  likely  to  give  no  trouble,  but  the  rule  was  introduced,  as  an  extra  pre- 
caution, that  the  office  should,  henceforth,  be  held,  by  any  one,  only  for  a 
short  time.  Hyrcanus  was  Aviled  from  the  East  that  Herod  might  have 
him  in  his  own  power,  and  prevent  his  being  played  o£E  against  him  in  case 
of  another  Parthian  war. 

But  Herod's  position  was  a  fatal  one.  "Willing  to  treat  his  subjects  well, 
Rome,  to  whom  he  owed  his  crown,  forced  him  to  oppress  them.  He 
wished  to  reign  as  a  Jew,  but  he  had  made  a  thank-offering  in  the  temple 
of  Jupiter  Capitoliuus  for  the  crown.  He  knew  that  he  could  be  popular 
only  by  observing  the  Law,  but  his  being  king  at  all  was  illegal.  He 
flattered  the  Rabbis,  but  they  were  his  deadliest  enemies.  Yet  all  this 
was  little  to  the  troubles  which  his  ambition  had  prepared  for  him  in  his 
own  household.  Had  he  founded  an  entirely  new  dynasty,  his  relations 
would  have  been  on  his  side,  and  he  could  have  relied  on  a  party.  But  he 
had  been  unwise  enough  to  marry  into  the  family  he  had  overthrown,  in 
the  hope  of  gaining  a  colour  of  legitimacy  for  his  reign  ;  and  in  doing  so 
he  had  at  once  failed  to  appease  the  injured,  and  had  brought  his  mortal 
enemies  round  him,  as  his  relations.  The  marriage  with  Mariamne,  by 
which  he  hoped  to  strengthen  his  title,  carried  with  it  his  keenest  indict- 
ment. In  Aristobulus,  his  brother-in-law,  he  saw  only  a  rival,  and  he 
betook  himself  to  the  usual  remedy  of  tyrants — murder — to  make  himself 
safe.  But  this  only  made  his  position  so  much  the  worse,  for  his  best- 
loved  wife  knew  that  he  had  murdered  her  brother,  and  their  very  children 
had  more  right  to  the  throne  than  himself.  His  suspicions  were  thiis 
roused  at  his  every  step,  in  his  own  palace,  and  could  only  be  appeased  by 
fiesh  crimes.  He  raged  against  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  made  him- 
self wretched  as  a  man,  to  be  secure  as  a  king. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  a  great  disaster  befell  the  Triumvir, 
Antony.  His  troops,  deserted  by  their  barbarous  allies,  had  to  retreat 
from  Media,  mai'ching  for  twenty-seven  days  through  a  wasted  country^ 
pursued  by  the  Parthians,  and  often  in  want  of  food  or  water.  Twenty 
thousand  foot,  and  four  thousand  horse,  perished,  and  all  the  army  train 
was  lost,  l)efore  he  reached  the  Araxes,  on  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  eight 
thousand  more  died  before  he  got  to   Sidon  on  the  sea-coast.     Here  he 


THE    KEIGN    OF   HEROD.  29 

waited  for  Cleopatra,  who  was  alarmed  at  hearing  that  his  wife  Octavia 
was  coming  to  meet  him,  and,  pretending  that  she  would  die  if  he  de- 
serted her,  so  unmanned  him  that  he  left  his  army  to  his  officers  and  went 
off  with  her  to  Egj'i^t.  He  was  now  entirely  in  her  hands,  and  the 
neighbouring  powers  soon  felt  the  results. 

Alexandra,  the  mother  of  Mariamue  and  Aristobulus,  was  sorely  aggrieved 
that  her  son  should  not  have  been  made  high  priest,  as  was  his  right,  and 
plotted  with  a  crafty  officer  of  Antony's  suite,  then  at  Jerusalem,  to  get 
Antony  to  help  her  in  the  matter.  He  asked  and  got  the  portraits  of 
both  brother  and  sister  to  send  to  his  master,  but  it  was  with  the  design 
of  getting  Antony  enamoured  of  Mariamne  and  of  thus  raising  a  rival  to 
Cleopatra,  and  his  scheme  succeeded.  Antony  fell  in  love  with  the  Jewish 
queen,  and  was  only  kept  from  acting  on  his  passion  by  his  fear  of  the 
jealousy  of  his  Egyptian  mistress.  He  confined  himself  for  the  time  to 
asking  Herod  to  send  the  boy  to  him. 

Herod  was  alarmed,  and  induced  Antony  to  withdraw  his  request,  which 
he  said  would  lead  to  a  revolt  if  granted  :  but  seeing  how  things  stood, 
he  deposed  the  high  priest  and  appointed  Aristobulus,  then  seventeen,  in 
his  place.  Unfortunately  for  the  lad,  the  Jews  hailed  his  elevation  with 
delight.  The  result  was,  that  Herod,  soon  after,  got  him  held  under  the 
water  in  a  bath,  at  Jericho,  till  he  was  drowned,  and  pretended  it  was  an 
accident. 

Alexandra  and  Mariamne,  knowing  the  truth,  thii'sted  for  revenge,  and 
plotted  with  Cleopatra  to  obtain  it.  She  on  her  part  was  anxious  to  get 
hold  of  Judea,  and  only  used  the  plotters  for  this  end.  Herod  was  sum- 
moned before  Antony,  but  he  ordered,  before  he  left,  that  should  he  not 
return,  Alexandra  should  be  put  to  death  as  a  punishment,  and  Mariamne 
also  killed,  to  prevent  her  falling  into  the  hands  of  Antony.  Unfortunately 
for  all,  this  was  told  them  in  his  absence,  and  Mariamne,  roused  to  frenzy, 
greeted  him,  on  his  coming  back,  with  an  outburst  of  the  long  pent-up 
hatred  she  felt  at  his  crimes.  Alexandra  was  forthwith  thrown  into 
chains  ;  his  sister  Salome's  husband,  who  had  betrayed  the  secret,  was 
put  to  death ;  Mariamne,  whom  he  passionately  loved,  was  spared  a  little 
longer. 

Other  ti'oubles,  from  outside,  now,  for  a  time,  thrust  the  domestic 
miseries  into  the  background.  Herod  had  discovered  Cleopatra's  designs, 
which  were  to  get  all  the  countiy,  from  Egypt  to  Syria,  for  herself. 
Antony  was  to  be  persuaded  on  one  pretext  or  other,  to  dethrone  the 
different  rulers.  She  did  actually  get  him  to  put  Lysanias,  the  ruler  of 
the  Lebanon  district,  to  death,  on  pretence  of  his  being  in  league  with  the 
Parthians,  and  got  his  principality,  which  she  presently  farmed  out. 
Herod  was  now  between  her  possessions,  on  both  north  and  south,  and 
feared  lest  her  influence  with  Antony  might  be  his  ruin. 

She  next  begged  and  got  part  of  the  Nabattean  kingdom :  then  the 
whole  sea-coast  of  Palestine  from  the  river  Eleutherus  to  Egypt — Tyre 
and  Sidon  excepted — and,  finally,  Herod  had  to  give  up  to  her  the  Oasis 
of  Jericho  with  its  balsam  ])lantations — the  richest  part  of  his  kingdom. 
The  summons  to  Laodicea  and  the  taking  away  of  Jericho  seemed  to  show 


30  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

tliat  Herod's  influence  with  Antony  was  shaken,  and  opposition  con- 
sequently raised  itself  once  more.  Plots  were  again  rife  on  every  side, 
at  home  and  abroad.  Cleopatra  was  his  constant  terror,  for  at  any  moment 
she  might  spring  some  new  mine  under  his  feet.  Even  the  Maccab^ana 
were  once  more  raising  their  heads.  The  Eabbis,  whose  schools  had 
flourished  immensely  since  their  exclusion  from  politics,  began  to  interfere 
with  them  again.  Hillel  and  Shammai  were,  respectively,  the  heads 
of  the  more  liberal  and  the  harsher  parties.  But  Herod  was  too  much 
occupied  by  great  affairs  to  trouble  himself  about  them. 

Things  were  I'apidly  coming  to  a  crisis  in  the  Eoman  Emj^ire.  The 
object  of  the  Egyptian  queen  in  lavishing  her  blandishments  on  Antony 
became  more  and  more  apparent.  She  had  entangled  him  in  her  snares 
only  to  serve  herself,  and  the  great  Samson  laid  his  head  unsuspiciously 
on  her  Delilah  lap.  She  di-eamed  of  bringing  the  whole  Eastern  empire 
of  Rome,  through  him,  under  Egyptian  rule,  and  of  becoming  the  empress 
of  half  the  world ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  willing  it  should  be  so. 
He  gave  mortal  offence  at  Rome  by  celebrating  his  triumphs,  not  there, 
but  at  Alexandria.  He  gave  Cleopatra  the  title  of  the  "  queen  of  kings." 
Pheir  two  sons,  Ptolemy  and  Alexander,  were  to  be  "  kings  of  kings." 
He  gave  Syria,  Phenicia,  and  Cilicia  to  the  former,  and  Armenia  and 
Media,  with  Parthia,  as  soon  as  it  should  be  overcome,  to  the  latter ; 
while  to  their  daughter,  the  young  Cleopatra,  he  handed  over  Cyrenaika. 
Cleopatra  herself  was  made  Queen  of  Egypt,  Cyprus,  Libya,  and  Coele- 
Syria,  her  son  Cassarion  sharing  them  with  her.  After  the  example  of  the 
Pharaohs  and  Ptolemies,  both  she  and  Antony  assumed  divine  honours — 
Cleopatra  as  Isis,  he  as  Osiris — and  their  statues  were  set  up  in  sacred 
places.  Public  feeling  at  Rome  was  outraged  and  alarmed.  The  popular 
poets  sent  verses  afloat  in  which  Antony  sought  to  make  the  Jupiter  of 
Rome  give  way  to  the  barking,  dog-headed  Anubis,  threatened  the  galleys 
of  Rome  with  being  outsailed  by  the  boats  of  the  Nile,  and  would  fain 
frighten  the  trumpets  of  Rome  with  the  clattering  sistrum.  Csesar  laid 
the  facts  before  the  Senate,  and  Antony,  in  return,  made  charges  against 
Cffisar.  War— long  inevitable — at  last  broke  out,  and  was  decided  in  the 
sea-fight  at  Actium.  Cleopat>ra  had  persuaded  her  dupe  to  fight  on  the 
water  rather  than  on  land,  that  she  might  flee  to  Egypt  at  the  first  signs 
of  defeat,  and  she  did  this  in  the  midst  of  the  battle,  when  victory  was 
yet  entirely  douljtful.  Ever  his  ruin,  she  thus  completed  her  fatal 
triumph,  for  the  weak  man,  as  if  he  could  not  live  without  her,  forthwith 
deserted  his  forces,  though  his  ships  were  still  fighting  stoutly,  and  he 
had  100,000  foot,  and  12,000  horse,  on  the  sea-shore,  who  had  never  fought 
at  all.  It  was  noticed  that  on  the  day  of  Actium  a  terrible  earthquake 
took  place  in  Palestine,  killing  10,000  persons  and  endless  cattle.  Herod, 
seeing  Antony  fallen,  forthwith  made  peace  with  Cossar.  Fresh  plots  of 
Alexandra  had  been  discovered,  in  which  Hyrcanus,  now  eighty  j'ears  old, 
was  to  be  played  off  against  him  ;  but  they  only  led  to  the  revolting  sight 
of  the  last  of  the  Maccabffians,  in  extreme  old  age,  being  beheaded  by  his 
son-in-law.  Herod's  hands  were  getting  redder  and  redder  with  the 
blood  of  his  kindred.     With  Cassar  he  managed  things  well,  entertaining 


THE    REIGN    OF   HEKOD.  31 

him  royally  on  his  way  through  Palestine  to  Egypt,  and  providing  supplies 
for  his  army  on  their  march,  with  equal  wisdom  and  munificence.  Mean- 
while Antony  and  Cleopatra  spent  their  last  days  in  feasting  and  revelry, 
varied  with  ghastly  trials,  before  them,  of  every  known  poison,  by  turns, 
on  different  prisoners,  to  see  which  caused  the  easiest  death.  In  the 
autumn  of  30  B.C.  Antony  stabbed  himself  mortally,  and  Cleopatra  soon 
after  ended  her  life  by  poison,  leaving  Herod  to  breathe  freely  for  the 
first  time  in  long  years.  Octavian  took  him  into  favour,  for  he  needed 
such  a  man  as  a  protection  on  the  eastern  borders,  to  defend  them  against 
the  Parthians.  Jericho  was  given  back,  Samaria  was  incorporated  with 
his  kingdom,  with  various  coast  towns,  and  some  territory  beyond  the 
Jordan.  Cleopatra's  body-guard  of  400  Gauls  was  presented  to  him  by 
Octavian.  But  if  he  had  honour  and  rewards,  it  was  at  the  cost  of  an 
expenditure,  to  do  honour  and  homage  to  his  imperial  master,  that  seemed 
to  have  overstrained  his  resources. 

Once  more  safe  from  dangers  tliat  might  well  have  overwhelmed  him, 
Herod  found,  on  his  return  from  attendance  on  Octavian,  such  troubles  at 
home  as  darkened  his  whole  future  life.  The  quarrels  of  his  seraglio  had 
come  to  a  head.  Alexandra  and  her  daughter  Mariamne  were  now  the 
only  two  left  of  the  old  royal  race,  and  were  so  much  the  more  hated 
by  the  kindred  of  Herod.  Mariatnne — tall  and  noble  in  person — had  the 
pride  of  a  daughter  of  kings,  and  let  Salome,  Herod's  sister,  feel  it.  In 
Herod's  absence  she  discovered  that,  for  the  second  time,  he  had  left 
orders  to  kill  her  and  her  mother  if  he  did  not  return  ;  and  she  showed 
what  she  thought  of  this  when  he  did  come  back,  by  receiving  him  with 
undisguised  aversion.  Her  enemies  took  advantage  of  this  to  fan  Herod's 
anger  by  every  scandal  they  could  invent  against  her,  till,  in  the  end,  he 
believed  she  had  been  unfaithful,  and  the  fair  queen,  deserted  and  betrayed 
by  all,  was  handed  over  to  the  headsman.  Herod's  remorse,  when  she  had 
thus  actually  perished,  was  awful.  He  lost  his  reason  for  a  time,  would 
call  for  her,  lament  over  her,  kept  his  servants  calling  her  as  if  she  were 
still  alive,  gave  up  all  business,  and  fled  to  Samaria,  whore  he  had  married 
her,  to  seek  relief  from  his  thoughts  in  hunting.  At  last  he  fell  into 
violent  illness,  and  lay  seemingly  hopeless.  Alexandra,  furious  at  her 
daughter's  murder,  thought  this  the  right  moment  to  attempt  to  set 
Mariamne's  two  sons  on  the  throne,  which  was  theirs  by  right,  more  than 
their  father's.  A  plague  had  broken  out,  and  this  the  Eabbis  construed 
into  divine  vengeance  for  the  cjueen's  death.  Tiie  news  roused  the  tyi-ant, 
ill  as  he  was.  Alexandra  was  instantly  put  to  death,  and  many  others 
shared  her  fate ;  but  already  a  new  suspicion  had  risen  to  torment  the 
wretched  man.  Alexandra's  proclamation  of  his  sons  as  the  rightful 
heirs  had  made  them,  also,  his  fancied  enemies.  Among  the  people  the 
memory  of  Mariamne  was  sacred,  and  their  hopes  were  set  on  her  sons. 

Octavian  was  now  sole  ruler  of  the  Roman  world,  under  the  high  name 
of  Augustus,  and  an  era  o£  restoration  and  refinement  took  the  place  of 
destruction  and  tumult.  "With  the  widespread  peace,  trade  revived,  and 
prosperity  returned  to  Judea  among  other  countries,  The  patronage  of 
literature  and  art,  the  construction  of  public  works,  and  the  rebuilding 


q 


2  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST 


and  beautifying  of  Rome  and  the  cities  and  towns  of  the  provinces,  were 
now  the  fashion,  set  by  Augustus,  and  shxvishly  followed  by  vassal  kings. 
In  imitation  of  him,  Herod  patronized  men  whose  writings  could  shed  a 
lustre  on  his  court — notably  the  two  brothers,  Nicolaus  and  Ptolemy,  of 
Damascus,  both  able  and  faithful  puljlic  servants.  Nicolaus  was  a 
voluminous  and  skilful  author  as  well.  Other  Greeks  and  half-Greeks 
were  jDut  in  offices  of  trust  or  honour,  as  members  of  the  government,  or 
ambassadors,  or  as  tutors  and  travelling  companions  to  his  sons.  Most 
of  them  served  Herod  honourably  to  the  last,  but  thei^e  were  not  wanting 
some  of  the  Greek  sycophants  Avho  at  that  time  infested  all  courts,  and 
one  of  the  worst  of  these,  Eurykles  the  Lacedtemonian,  who  amassed 
wealth  by  espionage  and  false  witnesses,  was  destined  to  be  the  bad 
genius  of  Herod's  later  years.  The  biting  wit  of  the  Rabbis  spoke  of 
the  whole  heathen  government  of  the  court  as  "  the  proselytes  of  the 
king's  table." 

A  shrewd  and  able  man  like  Herod,  whose  leading  thought  was  to 
flatter  and  serve  Augustus,  so  as  to  secure  his  permanent  favour,  was  of 
great  use  in  a  disturbed  border  country,  to  one  who,  like  Augustus,  was 
as  much  disinclined  as  unqualified  for  war.  When,  therefore,  Herod 
determined  in  the  year  B.C.  23  to  send  Mariamne's  two  sons  to  Rome, 
Csesar  received  them  with  every  honour,  and  gave  the  lads  every  facility 
for  growing  up  iu  the  midst  of  high  Roman  life.  But  they  little  knew 
in  how  dark  a  gloom  all  this  early  sialendour  would  set !  By  a  curious 
coincidence  it  was  their  tutor's  son,  with  whom  they  rose  to  manhood, 
whom  Yirgil  liad  flattered  as  an  infant  by  applying  to  him,  in  the  fourth 
Eclogue,  the  Messianic  hope  of  the  Jews.  Of  this  "  Messiah  "  of  Virgil 
they  were  now  the  youthful  friends.  Herod  himself  took  his  sons  to 
Rome,  and  was  honoured  by  a  gift  from  Augustus  of  the  district  of 
Lebanon,  and  of  the  lawless  territories  of  Iturea  and  Trachonitis,  with 
the  fertile  plains  of  the  Hauran.  The  former  swarmed  with  robbers,  like 
Galilee  in  Herod's  youth,  and  the  two  latter  were  filled  with  wild  clans  of 
borderers,  who  were  the  terror  of  the  land  at  large.  But  on  his  return, 
Herod  soon  reduced  them  so  thoroughly  that  they  were  peaceful  even 
under  his  successors.  A  year  after,  Herod  could  personally  report  his 
success  to  Csesar's  minister  Agrippa,  at  Mitylene,  to  which  he  went  to 
meet  him.  Two  years  later  Herod  received  from  Augustus,  in  person,  at 
Antioch,  the  districts  of  Ulatha  and  Panias,  to  round  off  his  kingdom 
suitably.  He  now  reigned  over  a  larger  kingdom  than  any  iireceding 
Jewish  monarch.  The  glory  of  David  seemed  to  be  outshone.  From 
Lebanon  to  the  far  south,  and  from  the  edge  of  the  Desert  to  the  sea- 
coast,  was  Jewish  territory.  Nor  was  the  political  glory  granted  to 
Herod  less  than  the  material.  He  was  made  the  representative  of 
Agrippa  in  the  East,  and  it  was  required  that  his  counsel  should  be  taken, 
before  anything  of  moment  was  done  by  consuls  or  governors.  Amidst 
these  flatteries  from  Augustus  it  was  necessary  to  do  something  to 
conciliate  the  Jews.  Hence,  in  the  year  24  Herod  had  married  a  Jewish 
maiden— Mariamnc,  daughter  of  Boethos,  a  priest  of  Alexandrian  origin 
who  was  raised  to  the  high  priesthood,  to  dignify  the  alliance  with  "  the 


THE    REIGN    OF    HE  ROD.  33 

fairest  woman  in  tlie  world  " — Jesus,  tlie  son  of  PLabi,  the  high  priest  at 
the  time,  being  set  aside  in  his  favour.  Bocithos  was  a  great  accession  to 
the  small  body  of  the  Sadducean  dignitaries,  but,  in  politics,  was,  of 
course,  a  Herodian. 

So  much  intercourse  with  heathenism,  however,  and  the  splendid 
flatteries  by  which  Herod  sought  to  retain  and  increase  the  power  of  his 
master,  were  not  without  their  effects  on  Judaism.  Even  in  the  days  of 
the  Syrian  kings,  Palestine  had  been  encircled  by  Greek  towns  and  cities, 
and  the  immigration  of  heathen  settlers  had,  in  Herod's  day,  made  the 
towns  of  the  Philistine  coast  and  of  the  Decapolis  much  more  Greek  than 
Jewish.  The  only  bounds  to  Herod's  introduction  of  foreign  novelties 
were  his  dread  of  national  opposition.  Greek  had  become  the  court 
dialect  of  the  Empire— as  French  was  that  of  Europe  in  the  days  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  still  remains  to  a  great  extent, — and  hence  it  was 
universally  favoured  and  spoken  by  the  upper  classes  in  Herod's 
dominions.  Samaria  received  a  Greek  name,  had  Greek  coins,  and  Greek 
idolatry.  The  first  act  of  Herod,  after  Augustus  had  aggrandised  him  so 
greatly,  was  to  build  a  temple  of  white  marble  to  his  patron,  at  Panias, 
the  future  CiBsarea  Philippi,  lying  finely  on  one  of  the  southern  spurs  of 
Lebanon.  Before  long,  venturing  to  bring  heathenism  nearer  the  centre 
of  the  land,  he  built  another  temple  to  Caesar  in  Samaria,  and  surrounded 
it  by  a  consecrated  approach,  a  furlong  and  a  half  in  circumference.  A 
grand  palace  was  also  begun  in  Jerusalem  itself,  in  the  heathen  style, 
with  wide  porticoes,  rows  of  pillars,  and  baths ;  its  one  wing  receiving 
the  name  of  Caesar,  the  other  that  of  Agrippa.  Herodium,  which  he 
built  on  the  hill,  at  the  mouth  of  the  deep  gorge  leading  to  the  Dead  Sea, 
where  he  had  so  bravely  defended  himself  against  the  Parthians,  was 
planned  as  a  Eoman  castle,  rising  over  an  Italian  town,  with  public 
buildings  and  stately  aqueducts.  His  grandest  undertaking,  after  the 
Temple,  was  the  creation  of  Ca:!sarea,  on  the  coast.  The  name  was 
another  flattery  of  the  Emperor  ;  *.hat  of  one  of  the  great  signal  towers 
on  the  smaller  harbour  was  Drusion,  after  Caasar's  son.  The  great  pier 
was  adorned  with  splendid  pillars.  Broad  quays,  magnificent  bazaars, 
spacious  basilicas,  for  the  courts  of  law  and  other  public  uses,  and  huge 
sailors'-homes,  invited  a  great  commerce  ;  and  on  an  eminence  above  rose 
a  temple,  with  a  colossal  statue,  visible  far  out  at  sea,  of  Augustus,  as 
Jupiter  Olympus,  and  another  of  Eome,  deified  as  Juno.  Theatres  and 
amphitheatres  were  not  wanting.  A  grand  palace,  designed  for 
Herod  himself,  became  later  the  PrEetorium  of  the  Roman  procurators. 
Temples  to  Jupiter,  Neptune,  Apollo,  Hercules,  Bacchus,  Minerva, 
Victory,  and  Astarte,  soon  adorned  the  town,  and  showed  the  many- 
coloured  heathenism  of  its  population.  It  was,  moreover,  provided  with 
a  system  of  magnificent  underground  sewers  in  the  Roman  manner? 
Cajsarea  was  in  every  respect  a  foreign  city.  Its  population  was  more 
heathens  than  Jewish,  and  their  mutual  hatred  often  led  to  fierce  riots. 

In  Jerusalem  itself  a  theatre  and  amphitheatre  were  erected.  Countless 
foreign  proselytes  and  numerous  heathens  had  settled  in  the  city.  The 
coins   bore    Greek    inscriptions.      Among    the    troops    of    Herod    were 

D 


34  THE   LIFE    OP   CHEIST. 

Thracian,  German,  and  Gallic  regiments.  So  thoroughly,  indeed,  had 
foreign  elements  gained  a  footing,  even  in  the  fanatical  capital,  in  spite  of 
the  Eabbis,  that,  while  the  people  at  large  retained  their  native  dialect, 
many  Greek  words  had  been  permanently  incorporated  with  it.  The  very 
Temple  disjilayed  proofs  of  the  irrepressible  influences  of  the  great  world 
outside  Judea.  Its  outer  court  was  thronged  by  heathens,  and  countless 
gifts  presented  by  heathen  princes  and  nobles  adorned  the  walls  of  the 
court  of  the  priests.  The  Ptolemies  had  enriched  it  by  numerous  costly 
gifts.  Sosius,  when  he  took  Jerusalem,  in  concert  with  Herod,  vowed  a 
golden  crown.  Among  the  Temple  vessels  were  wine  jars  which  had  been 
presented  by  Augustus  and  his  Empress.  It  was,  indeed,  a  common 
thing  for  Eomans  to  make  gifts  of  this  kind.  They  very  often,  also, 
presented  offerings.  When  Pompey  had  taken  Jerusalem,  his  first  care 
was  to  provide  the  usual  sacrifices.  Agrippa,  the  friend  and  patron  of 
Herod,  offered  a  hecatomb  on  his  visit  to  Jerusalem  fifteen  years  before 
Christ,  and  Augustus  provided  that  sacrifices  should  be  offered  daily  at 
his  expense  to  the  Most  High  God ;  an  example  which  must  have  had 
countless  followers.  All  the  hatred  between  Jews  and  heathen  Vv^as  not 
strong  enough  to  prevent  the  Temple  becoming,  like  all  the  famous 
sanctuaries  of  the  age,  a  gathering  point  for  the  world  at  large. 

There  was,  clearly,  much  to  keep  a  fanatical  people  in  a  constant  ten- 
sion, and  to  make  them  more  fanatical  still.  Heathen  temples,  with  their 
attendant  priests,  pompous  ritual,  and  imposing  sacrifices,  abounded  in 
the  land.  Gaza,  in  the  south,  was  virtually  a  Greek  city,  and  worshipped 
a  local  Jupiter  as  the  town  god,  "  who  sent  rain  and  fruitfulness  on  the 
earth,"  and  associated  with  him,  in  its  idolatry,  another  Jupiter — the 
Victory  Bringer — Apollo,  the  Sun,  and  Hercules,  and  the  goddesses 
Fortune,  lo,  Diana,  Juno,  and  Venus.  Ascalon  worshipped  Jupiter, 
IsTeptune,  Apollo,  the  Sun,  Minerva,  Mercury,  Castor  and  Pollux,  and  the 
Sja-ian  Moon  goddess  Astarte,  as  the  heavenly  Venus — the  warlike,  spear- 
bearing,  Queen  of  Heaven.  On  the  rocks  at  Joppa,  the  marks  of  the 
chains  were  shown  which  had  been  forged  for  Andi'omeda.  A  laurel- 
crowned  Jupiter  was  worshipped  at  Dora,  north  of  Ccesarea.  At  Ptolemais 
the  favourite  divinity  was  the  goddess  Fortune,  but  with  her,  Jupiter, 
Apollo,  Diana,  Venus,  Pluto  and  Persephone,  and  Perseus,  with  the 
Egyptian  Serapis,  and  the  Phrygian  Cj^bele,  had  their  respective  wor- 
shippers. 

In  Tyre,  the  old  worship  of  Baal  and  Astarte — the  Sun  and  Moon — • 
retained  their  pre-eminence,  with  a  Greek  colouring  of  the  idolatry.  In 
Damascus  Greek  heathenism  was  in  the  ascendant.  Jupiter,  Hercules, 
and  Bacchus,  Diana,  Minerva,  and  Victory  had  their  temples,  and  were 
stamped  on  the  local  coins.  In  the  future  province  of  Philip  heathenism 
was  predominant.  In  Panias  or  Cfesarea  Philippi,  as  we  have  seen,  Herod 
built  a  temple  for  the  worship  of  Augustus,  but  the  leading  divinity  was 
the  god  Pan,  as  the  old  name  of  the  town — Panias — indicates;  Jupiter, 
however,  and  Astarte,  with  a  horn  of  plenty,  Apollo,  and  Diana,  had  also 
their  votaries,  and  no  doubt  their  temples.  Heathenism  flourished  in 
Batanasa,  Trachonitis,  and  Auranitis.      Helios,  the   Sun,  was  the  great 


THE   EEIGN   OF   HEEOD.  35 

object  of  worship,  and  so  deep-rooted  was  this  idolatry  that  the  early 
Christian  missionaries  knew  no  other  Avay  of  overthrowing  it  than  by 
changing  it  into  the  name  of  the  prophet  Elias,  and  turning  the  temples 
into  churches  dedicated  to  him.  Round  this  central  divinity,  however, 
the  worship  of  Bacchus,  Saturn,  Hercules,  Minerva,  Fortune,  Yenus, 
Victory,  Peace,  and  other  divinities  flourished  more  or  less.  The  cities  of 
the  Decapolis  were  very  heathen. 

Thus,  all  round  the  central  district  of  Palestine,  and  to  some  extent 
even  within  its  limits,  heathenism  had  already  in  Herod's  day,  and,  con- 
sequently, in  Christ's,  its  temples,  altars,  idols,  and  priests.  Jehovah  was 
no  longer  the  sole  God.  With  a  few  exceptions,  of  Syrian  or  Egyptian 
divinities,  Greek  names  and  rites  mai-ked  the  source  of  the  corruption, 
though  v/e  have  given  the  Roman  names  as  better  known.  Of  all  this 
aggressive  heathenism  Herod,  so  far  as  he  dared,  was  the  ostentatious 
patron.  If  he  could  hardly  venture  on  much  within  the  narrow  limits  of 
Jndea,  cenotaphs,  mausolca,  and  other  monuments  offensive  to  a  Jew  were 
seen  along  all  the  leading  roads,  and  so  many  places  were  called  by  new 
Latin  names,  in  honour  of  the  imperial  family,  that  a  traveller  might  think 
he  was  in  Italy.  Nor  was  the  King  ever  without  money  to  bestow  on 
neighbouring  heathen  cities,  as  a  mark  of  friendliness,  in  building  gym- 
nasia, piazzas,  theatres,  and  aqueducts,  or  in  the  shape  of  prizes  to  be 
striven  for  in  the  circus.  It  seemed  as  if  the  throne  of  David  existed  only 
to  spread  heathenism.  It  was  clear  to  the  Jews  that  Herod's  heathen 
subjects  were  nearest  his  heart,  since,  a,midst  all  his  lavish  munificence 
to  them,  he  had  done  nothing  to  beautify  a  single  Jewish  town  except 
Jerusalem,  to  which  his  additions  were,  themselves,  heathen.  The  most 
appalling  reports  respecting  him  spread  from  month  to  mouth.  He  had 
preserved  the  body  of  Mariamne  for  seven  years  in  honey  for  the  most 
hideous  ends  :  he  had  strangled  all  the  great  Rabbis,  except  Baba-ben- 
Buta,  and  him  he  had  blinded.    The  most  intense  hatred  of  him  prevailed. 

It  was  Vv'ith  the  estremest  mistrust,  therefore,  that  the  Rabbis  heard 
in  the  year  B.C.  20  that  Herod  intended  replacing  the  humble  temple  of 
the  Exile  by  one  unspeakably  more  splendid.  It  is  said  that  Baba-ben- 
Buta  had  seen  a  crack  in  the  old  structure,  and  counselled  Herod  to  build 
another  in  its  place,  as  an  expiation  for  the  murder  of  Mariamne  and  the 
Rabbis,  and  to  conciliate  the  people  for  his  favour  to  heathenism.  The 
proi^hecies  were  played  off  by  him,  to  win  popular  sanction  to  his  under- 
taking, for  Haggai  had  foretold  that  a  new  temple  of  surpassing  glory 
would  one  day  be  built.  But  so  great  was  the  distrust,  that  all  the 
materials  of  the  new  temple  needed  to  be  brought  together  before  a  stone 
of  the  old  one  could  be  touched.  At  last,  on  the  regnal  day  of  Herod,  in 
the  year  B.C.  14,  the  unfinished  structure  was  conseci-ated,  and  the  lowing 
of  300  oxen  at  the  Great  Altar  announced  to  Jerusalem  that  the  first 
sacrifice  in  it  was  about  to  be  offered.  Bnt  scarcely  was  the  consecration 
over,  than  national  gratitvide  was  turned  into  indignation  by  his  setting  up 
a  huge  golden  eagle — the  emblem  of  heathen  Rome — over  the  great  gate, 
in  expectation  of  a  visit  from  distinguished  strangers  from  the  imperial 
city.     The  nation  was  not  duped  as  the  king  had  expected.  ■  In  spite  of 


36  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

his  having  begun  a  temple  so  magnificent  that  even  a  Jewish  saying  owns 
that  he  who  had  not  seen  it  had  seen  nothing  worth  looking  at,  an  abyss 
yawned  between  him  and  them.  He  had  burned  the  registers  of  Jeru- 
salem to  destroy  the  pedigrees  of  which  the  people  boasted :  he  had  tried 
to  make  it  be  believed  that  he  was  the  descendant  of  a  foreign  Jewish 
family,  but  no  one  regarded  him  as  anything  but  the  slave  of  their  kings. 
All  felt  that  his  conduct  was  as  little  Jewish  as  his  birth ;  and  that  he 
was  rather  a  Eoman  proconsul  than  the  King  of  Israel.  Even  the  worst 
of  the  Maceabfean  house  were  bound  to  the  national  faith  by  the  functions 
of  the  pontificate,  but  though  Herod  might  be  made  King  of  Judca  by  the 
favour  of  Rome,  no  earthly  power  could  make  him  a  descendant  of  Aaron, 
without  being  which  he  could  not  be  high  priest. 

In  vain  Herod  tried  to  make  himself  beloved.  He  had  done  much  to 
deserve  gratitude  in  these  later  years,  and  yet  the  nation  wrote  his 
virtues  in  water,  and  his  faults  in  brass.  A  dreadful  famine,  followed  by 
pestilence,  had  spread  misery  and  death  in  the  thirteenth  year  of  his 
reign.  No  rain  had  fallen  at  the  required  times,  and  the  crops  utterly 
failed,  so  that  there  was  no  food  for  either  man  or  Ijcast.  Men  said  it  was 
a  judgment  of  God  for  the  defilement  of  His  land  by  their  king's  crinies 
and  heathen  innovations,  for  Mariamne's  blood,  now  four  years  shed,  still 
seemed  to  cry  for  vengeance,  and,  since  her  murder,  a  theatre  and  circus 
had  profaned  Jerusalem,  while  heathen  games,  in  which  men  fought  with 
men,  to  the  death,  had  been  set  on  foot  with  great  pomp.  Samaria,  the 
hated  rival  of  Jerusalem,  was  even  then,  moreover,  being  rebuilt,  with  a 
heathen  temple  in  it,  in  which  a  man— Augustus — was  to  be  worshipped. 
Herod  felt  the  peril  of  his  position,  and  acted,  from  policy,  as  others  might 
have  done  from  the  wisest  and  most  energetic  philanthropy.  Selling  the 
very  plate  in  his  palace,  and  emptying  his  treasury,  he  sent  funds  to 
Egypt  and  bought  corn,  which  he  brought  home  and  distributed,  as  a  gift, 
among  all  the  people,  for  their  money  had  been  spent  for  the  merest 
necessaries  before  this  I'elief  came.  He  even  provided  clothing  for  the 
nation  in  the  winter,  where  it  was  wanted,  for  sheep  and  goats  alike  had 
been  killed  for  food,  and  he  supplied  seed  corn  for  next  spring,  and  thus 
the  evil  time  was  tided  over.  For  a  while  it  seemed  as  if  the  people 
would  really  become  loyal.  But  his  best  acts  of  one  moment  were  spoiled 
the  next.  The  bazaars  and  schools  muttered  ti-eason  continually.  One 
year  Herod  remitted  a  third  of  the  taxes,  but  tongues  went  against  him 
none  the  less,  and  presently  he  seemed  to  justify  their  bitterness  by 
decreeing  that  all  thieves  should  be  sold  as  slaves  to  other  countries, 
where,  as  the  people  said,  they  would  lose  the  blessing  of  Abraham ,  could 
not  keep  the  Law,  and  would  be  lost  for  ever.  Meanwhile  Agrippf*  7isited 
Jerusalem  again,  and  bore  himself  so  wisely  that  thousands  escorted  him 
to  the  sea-coast  when  he  left,  strewing  his  path  with  flowers.  Next  yeai 
Herod  returned  the  visit  at  Sinope,  lavishing  bounty  on  heathen  and 
Jewish  communities  alike,  on  his  journey  out  and  back.  The  Jews  of 
each  city  of  Asia  Minor  seized  the  opportunity  of  his  passing,  to  complain, 
through  him,  to  Agrippa,  that  the  privileges  granted  them  by  Ca3sar  were 
not  oliscrved      The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  reviled  them  as  blood 


THE   REIGN   OP   HEROD.  3? 

slickers  and  cancers  of  the  community,  who  refused  to  honour  the  gods, 
and  hence  had  no  right  to  such  favour,  but  Herod  prevailed  with  Agrippa 
on  behalf  of  the  Jews.  For  once,  Jerusalem  received  its  king  heartily 
when  he  returned;  he,  on  his  side,  acknowledging  the  feeling  by  a 
remittance  of  a  quarter  of  the  taxes  of  the  year. 

The  dismal  shadow  that  had  rested  over  the  palace  in  past  times  had 
been  in  part  forgotten  while  the  two  sons  of  the  murdered  Mariamne  were 
in  Rome.  In  the  year  B.C.  17,  however,  the  old  troubles  had  begun  again, 
— to  darken  at  last  into  the  blackest  misery.  Herod  had  recalled  his 
sons  from  Rome.  Alexander,  the  elder,  was  eighteen;  Aristobulus,  the 
younger,  about  seventeen.  They  had  grown  tall,  taking  after  their  mother 
and  her  race.  In  Italy  and  Judea  alike,  their  birth  and  position,  amidst  so 
many  snares,  won  them  universal  sympathy.  Roman  education  had  given 
them  an  open,  straightforward  way,  however,  that  was  ill-fitted  to  hold  its 
own  with  their  crafty  fawning  Idumean  connections,  in  Jerusalem.  Their 
morals  had,  moreover,  suffered  by  their  residence  in  Rome,  so  that  Alex- 
ander, at  least,  appears  to  have  exposed  himself  to  charges  against  which 
Jewish  ecclesiastical  law  denounced  death.  In  any  case  they  were  heirs  to 
the  hatred  that  had  been  borne  towards  their  mother.  Her  fate  doubtless 
affected  their  bearing  towards  their  father,  and  it  was  said  that  they 
wished  to  get  the  process  against  Mariamne  reversed,  and  her  accusers 
punished.  Their  ruin  was  doubtless  determined  from  the  first ;  and  their 
unsuspicious  frankness,  which  showed  their  aversion  to  the  other  members 
of  the  family,  gave  materials  for  slander,  and  aided  in  their  destruction. 
Herod  sought  to  reconcile  the  strife  by  the  course  usual  at  the  time,  and 
married  Aristobulus  to  his  sister  Salome's  daughter  Berenice,  who  was, 
unfortunately,  still,  entirely  under  the  hostile  influence  of  her  mother, 
though  she  afterwards  grew  to  be  a  worthy  woman.  Alexander,  as  became 
the  heir  to  the  throne,  was  married  to  a  king's  daughter,  Glaphj-ra,  of  tha 
family  of  Archelaus,  king  of  Cappadocia — a  daughter  of  a  prostitute  o{ 
the  temple  of  Venus  in  Corinth,  whom  Archelaus  had  married.  The  bride 
might  be  fair,  but  she  was  not  prudent,  and  filled  the  palace  in  Jerusalem 
with  stories  of  her  contempt  for  Herod's  family  as  compared  with  her 
own.  Whatever  Aristobulus  said  to  his  wife  was  carried  to  Salome,  and 
spies  were  set  on  the  two  young  men,  to  report  what  they  could.  The 
quarrels  of  the  women  grew  fiercer  daily,  and  involved  the  two  brothers 
fatally.  Nothing  else  was  spoken  of  in  the  city  but  the  strife  in  the 
palace.  Another  element  of  mischief  was  soon  added.  Herod's  youngest 
brother,  Pheroras,  joined  the  party  of  Salome.  He  had  married  a  slave  girl, 
who  was  so  devoted  to  the  Pharisees  that  she  got  her  husband  to  pay  for 
tlicm  the  penalties  Herod  had  imposed,  for  their  having  refused  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance.  Pheroras,  who  was  a  true  Edomite  in  his  fickle 
faithlessness,  was  a  born  conspirator.  He  had  ])lotted  already  against 
Herod,  and  resolved,  in  revenge  for  Glaphyra's  loose  tongue  about  his 
low  marriage,  to  join  Salome,  and  hunt  the  two  youths  to  death. 

On  Herod's  return  from  his  visit  to  Agrippa  in  Asia  Minor,  in  tho 
winter  of  b.c.  14,  he  found  the  palace  in  a  ferment,  and  heard  for  the  first 
time  that  the  youths  intended  to  apply  to  Augustus  to  have  the  process 


38  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

against  Mariamne  reversed.  In  his  rage,  ho  resolved  to  recall  Antipater, 
his  eldest  son,  who,  "with  his  mother,  had  been  l)anished  from  the  court 
on  account  of  Mariamne,  and  Avas  thus  a  deadly  enemy  of  her  sons. 
This  step  was  the  ruin  of  Herod's  peace.  Antipater  instantly  joined 
Salome's  party:  watched  every  step  and  caught  every  word  of  the  un- 
suspecting youths ;  never  himself  accused  them  to  his  father,  l:)ut  plaj^ed 
the  part  of  lago  consummately,  in  exciting  the  suspicions  to  which  Herod's 
guiltj^  conscience  was  only  too  prone.  The  presence  of  an  elder  brother  not 
having  sufficed  to  humble  the  two,  Antipater's  mother,  Doris,  was  also 
recalled  to  court ;  that  they  might  see  hoAV  their  hopes  of  the  throne  were 
vanishing.  Their  enemies,  moreover,  did  their  best  to  stir  them  up 
against  each  other,  to  work  more  harm  to  both. 

Antipater,  erelong,  got  himself  named  as  heir,  and  was  sent,  as  such,  to 
Rome,  in  the  year  B.C.  13,  but  even  from  Italy  he  managed  to  deepen  his 
father's  suspicions  so  much,  that  Herod  himself  went  to  Rome,  taking  the 
two  young  men  with  him,  to  have  them  tried  before  Cajsar  for  intended 
parricide.  They  defended  themselves  so  well,  however,  that  an  outward 
reconciliation  followed,  and  Herod  returned  to  Jerusalem  with  them,  as 
joint  heirs,  with  Antipater,  of  his  dominions. 

But  the  quiet  was  soon  disturbed.  The  mutual  hatred  of  the  women, 
and  the  plots  of  Pheroras  and  Antipater,  tliough  for  a  time  fruitless,  made 
progress  in  the  end.  At  their  suggestion,  the  slaves  of  the  youths  were 
tortured,  and  accused  Alexander  of  conspiracy;  and  he,  weary  of  life, 
and  furious  at  the  toil  laid  for  him,  was  foolish  enough  to  say  that  he  v.'a3 
guilty,  but  only  in  common  with  all  Herod's  relations,  except  Antipater. 
The  unfortunate  young  man  made  an  exception  in  his  case  as  a  special  and 
trusted  friend  !  The  whole  of  Herod's  connections  were  now  unanimous 
for  his  death,  but  it  was  not  to  happen  yet.  His  father-in-law  found  means 
to  appease  Herod  once  more,  which  Avas  the  easier,  as  Herod  had  discovered 
the  deceit  of  Pheroras,  and  had  found  his  sister  Salome  carrying  on 
intrigues  Avhich  he  did  not  approve. 

He  was  indeed  to  be  pitied.  The  family  quarrels  embittered  his 
existence,  and  his  suspicions  had  been  so  excited  that  he  trusted  nobody. 
Every  one  Avas  suspected,  and  could  only  defend  himself  by  raising  suspi- 
cions against  others.  A  Greek  at  court  determined  to  profit  by  the 
position  of  affairs  and  bring  it  to  a  final  crisis.  Trusting  to  get  money 
from  Antipater,  Herod,  and  Archelaus  alike,  if  he  ended  the  matter,  he 
laid  his  plans  to  bring  about  the  death  of  the  young  men.  Forging 
dociiments  and  inventing  acts,  he  made  Herod  Ijelieve  that  his  sons  Avero 
really  plotting  his  death.  The  tyrant  fortliAvitli  had  them  thrown  into 
chains,  and  their  slaves  put  to  torture,  stoning  those  who  confessed  any 
guilt.  !N"o thing  kept  him  from  putting  the  princes  to  death  but  fear  of 
offending  Augustus,  for  even  Salome  tormented  him  day  and  night  to  kill 
them,  though  one  Avas  her  son-in-laAA".  At  last  Herod  sent  to  Rome  for 
permission  from  Augustus  to  put  them  to  death.  The  request  cost  him 
the  croAvn  of  Arabia,  Augustus  declaring  tliat  the  man  avIio  could  not  keep 
his  house  in  order  Avas  unfit  to  be  trusted  Avith  additional  kingdoms.  Yet 
he  gaAe  him  permission  to  do  as  he  thought  fit  Avith  his  sons.     A  court, 


THE    REIGN    OF   HEROD,  39 

one-half  of  Eomans,  one-half  of  Jews,  was  now  held  at  Berytns,  and  Herod 
appeared  as  prosecutor.  In  vain  the  Eoman  proconsul  brought  his  three 
sons  with  him  to  excite  the  grey-headed  despot's  fatherly  feelings.  He 
acted  like  a  madman :  detailed  his  injuries  with  the  utmost  passion,  and 
supplied  the  want  of  proof  by  bursts  of  fury.  The  sentence  was  giren  as 
ho  desired,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  having  pursued  his  CTrn  sons 
to  the  death.  In  the  year  B.C.  7,  the  princes  were  strangled  at  Samaria, 
where  Herod  had  married  their  mother. 

If  the  hoai'y  mui-dcrer  hoped  for  peace  by  this  new  crime  he  was  deceived. 
Antipatcr  lived  with  his  two  brothers,  Archelaus  and  Philip,  at  Eome,  and, 
there,  first  excited  them  against  his  father,  and  then  betrayed  them  to 
him.  Pheroras,  Herod's  ]:>rother,  he  sought  to  make  his  tool  in  killing 
Herod.  He  was  afraid  that  if  he  did  not  destroy  his  father  soon  his  own 
infinite  villany  in  the  past  would  be  discovered.  Pheroras  was,  in  fact,  in  a 
false  position.  His  wife  and  her  relations  were  strongly  on  the  side  of  the 
Pharisees,  who  wished  above  everything  to  destroy  Herod,  and  put 
Pheroras,  as  their  fi-icnd,  on  the  throne.  Prophecies  were  circulated  by 
them,  that  it  was  the  will  of  God  that  Herod  and  his  sons  should  lose  the 
kingdom,  and  that  Pheroras  and  his  wife  should  inherit  it.  Their  tool, 
Herod's  euniich,  Bagoas,  was  to  have  a  son  who  would  be  the  Messiah. 
Many  were  won  over  in  the  palace,  but  the  plot  was  discovered,  and  many 
Rabbis  and  others  put  to  death.  Herod  demanded  that  Pheroras  should 
divorce  his  wife,  but  he  preferred  to  leave  the  court  and  go  to  Perea  with 
her,  rather  than  forsake  her.  Here  he  soon  after  suddenly  died,  report 
said,  by  poison.  Herod,  however,  had  his  body  brought  to  Jerusalem, 
and  appointed  a  great  national  mourning  on  his  account. 

Inquiry  respecting  his  death  at  last  brought  to  light  the  whole  secret 
history  of  years.  He  had  died  by  taking  poison,  sent  by  Antipater  to 
kill  Herod.  The  plot  was  found  to  have  wide  ramifications  where  least 
suspected.  Even  the  second  Mariamne  was  proved  to  have  been  privy  to 
it,  and  her  son  Herod  was  on  this  account  blotted  out  of  his  father's  will. 
Thus,  as  Josephus  says,  did  the  ghosts  of  Alexander  and  Aristobulus  go 
round  all  the  palace,  and  bring  the  most  deeply  hidden  secrets  to  light, 
summoning  to  the  judgment  seat  those  who  seemed  freest  from  suspicion. 

Antipatcr  was  now  unmasked,  and  Herod  saw  the  kind  of  man  for  whom 
he  had  sacrificed  his  wife  and  his  sons.  With  pretended  friendliness  he 
sent  for  him  from  Rome,  nor  did  any  one  warn  him  of  his  danger,  though 
proceedings  had  gone  on  many  months  against  his  mother,  ending  in  her 
divorce.  Perhaps,  says  Josephus,  the  spirits  of  his  inni'dered  Ijrothers  had 
closed  the  mouths  of  those  who  might  have  put  him  on  his  guard.  His  first 
hint  of  danger  was  given  by  no  one  being  at  Cassarea  to  receive  him,  when 
he  landed,  but  he  could  not  now  go  back,  and  determined  to  put  a  bold  face 
on  it.  As  he  rode  up  to  Jerusalem,  howevei',  he  saw  that  his  escort  was 
taken  from  him,  and  he  now  felt  that  he  was  ruined.  Herod  received  him 
as  he  deserved,  and  handed  him  over  for  trial  to  the  Syrian  proconsul. 
All  hastened  to  give  witness  against  one  so  universally  hated.  It  was 
proved  that  ho  had  sought  to  poison  his  father.  A  criminal  who  was 
forced  to  drink  what  Antipater  had  sent  for  Herod,  presently  fell  dead. 
Antipater  was  led  away  in  chains. 


40  'riiE  Lii'^li:  OP  christ 

The  strong  nature  oi  Herod  at  last  gave  way  under  sucli  revelations, 
which  ho  forthwith  communicated  to  his  master  at  Rome.  A  deadly 
illness  seized  him,  and  word  ran  through  Jerusalem  that  he  could  not 
recover.  The  Eabbis  could  no  longer  repress  their  hatred  of  him,  and  of 
the  Romans.  Their  teachings  through  long  years  were  about  to  bear  fruit- 
Two  were  especially  popular,  Judas,  the  son  of  Sariphai,  and  Matthias,  the 
son  of  Margolouth,  round  whom  a  whole  army  of  young  men  gathered 
daily,  drinking  in  from  them  the  spirit  of  revolution.  All  that  had 
happened  was  traced  to  the  anger  of  Jehovah  at  Herod's  desecration  of  the 
Temple  and  city,  and  violations  of  the  Law,  during  his  whole  reign.  To 
win  back  the  divine  favour  to  the  nation,  the  heathen  profanations  erected 
by  Herod  in  the  Temple  must  be  pulled  down,  especially  the  golden  eagle 
over  the  great  gate.  Living  or  dying,  they  would  have  eternal  rewards  for 
this  fidelity  to  the  laws  of  their  fathers.  Such  counsels  from  venerated 
teachers  were  like  fire  to  the  inflammable  passions  of  youth.  In  the 
middle  of  the  day  a  vast  crowd  of  students  of  the  Law  rushed  to  the 
Temple ;  let  themselves  down  with  ropes  from  the  top  of  the  great  gate, 
tore  down  the  hated  symbol  of  Rome  and  idolatry,  and  hacked  it  to  pieces 
in  the  sti-eets.  Mobs  rose  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  also,  to  throw  do-^vn 
other  objects  of  popular  hatred,  but  the  troops  turned  out,  and  the 
Tinarmed  rioters  Avere  scattered,  leaving  forty  young  Pharisees  in  the 
hands  of  the  military.  Brought  before  Herod  and  asked  who  had  coun- 
selled them  to  act  as  they  had  done,  they  answered,  touchinglj^,  that  they 
did  it  in  obedience  to  the  LaAV.  In  vain  he  tried  to  alarm  them  by  saying 
they  must  die  :  they  only  replied  that  their  eternal  reward  would  be  so 
much  the  greater.  The  two  Rabbis  and  the  young  men  were  sent  to 
Jericho  for  trial  before  Herod,  and  the  Rabbis  and  the  ringleaders  Avere 
burned  alive,  the  others  being  beheaded.  On  the  night  after  they  suffered 
there  was  an  eclipse  of  the  moon,  Avhich  fixes  the  date  as  the  11th  of 
March,  B.C.  4. 

Death  Avas  noAV  busy  Avith  Herod  himself.  His  life  had  been  a  splendid 
failure.  He  had  a  wide  kingdom,  but  his  life  had  been  a  long  struggle 
Avith  public  enemies  or  with  domestic  troubles,  and  in  his  old  age  he  found 
that  all  this  misery,  Avhich  had  made  him  the  murderer  of  his  wife,  her 
mother,  and  his  two  sons,  not  to  speak  of  other  relations  and  connections, 
had  been  planned  for  selfish  ends  by  those  whom  he  had  trusted.  The 
curse  had  come  back  on  him  to  the  full,  for  his  eldest  son  had  sought  to 
murder  him.  His  government  had  been  no  less  signal  a  failure,  for  revolt 
had  burst  into  flames  at  the  mere  report  of  his  death.  The  strong  man 
AA^as  bowed  to  the  dust  at  last.  A  loathsome  disease  prostrated  him,  and 
he  suffered  such  agonies  that  men  said  it  was  a  punishment  for  his 
countless  iniquities.  Carried  across  the  Dead  Sea  to  the  sulphur  baths  of 
Callirhoe,  he  fainted  and  almost  died  under  the  treatment.  All  round 
him  Avere  alarmed  lest  he  should  do  so  before  ordering  the  execution  of 
Antipater,  Ijut  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  prisoner  to  bribe  his  gaoler 
was  fatal  to  him.  Augustus  had  granted  permission  for  his  execution, 
Avith  the  caustic  irony,  that  it  was  better  to  be  Herod's  soat  than  his  sou. 
Five  days  after  Antijoater  had  fallen  Herod  himself  expired.  He  was  in 
his  seventy-first  or  scA^enty-second  year  when  he  died. 


TUE   JEWISH   WORLD   AT   THE    TIME    OF   CIIlHST.  41 

CHAPTEE,  V. 

THE   JEWISH   WORLD    AT    THE    TIME    OF    CHRIST. 

TT7HEN  the  conquest  of  Babylon  by  Darius  and  Cyrus  had  transferred 
the  fate  of  the  Jews,  then  in  captivity  in  that  empire,  to  the 
victorious  Persian,  their  long  exile  had  had  its  natural  effect  in  rekindling 
their  zeal  for  the  religion  of  their  fathers,  and  of  intensifying  their  desire 
to  return  to  their  own  land.  Before  Cyrus  finally  advanced  to  the  conquest 
of  the  great  city,  more  than  twenty  years  had  been  spent,  for  the  most 
part,  in  distant  military  operations.  But  long  before  he  drew  near 
Babylon,  the  Jewish  leaders,  stimulated  by  the  assurances  of  the  prophets 
then  living,  or  of  earlier  date,  felt  sure  of  his  victory,  and  of  the  speedy 
deliverance  of  their  nation  from  their  hated  oppressors.  The  glorious 
promises  of  the  later  chapters  of  Isaiah,  and  the  exultation  of  many  of  the 
Psalms  of  the  period,  arc  doubtless  only  illustrations  of  the  intense 
spiritual  excitement  that  prevailed  in  the  Jewish  community,  throughout 
the  lands  of  their  exile,  during  the  years  immediately  preceding  the  fall  of 
Babylon.  All  that  was  noblest  in  them  had  been  roused  to  an  enthusiasm 
which  might,  perhaps,  become  perverted,  but  was,  henceforth,  never  to 
die.  The  spirit  of  intense  nationality,  fed  by  zeal  for  their  religion  as  the 
true  faith — confided  to  them  exclusively  as  the  favourites  of  Heaven — had 
been  gi'adually  kindled,  and  yearned,  with  an  irrepressible  earnestness,  for 
a  return  to  their  own  country,  that  they  might  be  free  to  fulfil  its  require- 
ments. Men  of  the  purest  and  warmest  zeal  for  the  honour  and  the 
historic  rights  of  their  race  had  never  been  wanting  during  the  captivity, 
as  the  natural  leaders  of  their  brethren,  and  now  took  advantage  of  the 
character  and  circumstances  of  Cyrus  to  obtain  from  him  a  favourable 
decree  for  the  restoration  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  free  return  to  it  of  their 
people.  In  the  year  536  before  Christ,  such  as  were  most  zealous  for  their  t 
religion,  and  most  devoted  to  their  country  and  race,  were  thus  enabled 
once  more  to  settle  in  the  land  of  their  fathers,  under  the  protection  of  the 
Persian  empire,  of  which  they  continued  subjects  for  two  hundred  years, 
till  Alexander  the  Great,  in  B.C.  333,  overthrew  the  Persian  power. 

The  new  community,  which  was  to  found  the  Jewish  nation  for  a  second 
time,  was  by  no  means  numerous,  for  we  still  know  with  certainty  that  the 
■whole  number  of  these  Pilgrim  Fathers,  wdio  gathered  together  amidst  the 
ruins  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  other  cities  which  were  open  to  them,  did  not 
amount  to  more  than  42,360  men,  with  7,337  sei'vants  of  both  sexes.  The 
dangers  and  difficulties  before  those  who  might  return  had  winnowed  the 
wheat  from  the  chaff :  the  fainted-hearted  and  indifferent  had  lingered 
behind,  and  only  the  zealots  and  puritans  of  the  captivity  had  followed 
Zerubljabel,  the  leader  of  the  new  Exodus. 

The  rock  on  which  Jewish  nationality  had  foundered  in  former  times 
hadJjeentoo  frank  an  intercourse  Avith  other  nations  ;  too  groat  a  readiness 
to  adopt  their  customs,  and  even  their  heathenism  ;  too  slight  a  regard  to 
the  distinctively  Jewish  code  of  social  and  political  law ;  and,  Avith  these, 
too  wide  a  corruption  of  morals.     The  very  existence  of  the  nation  had 


42  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

been  imperilled,  and,  now,  the  one  fixed  tliouglit,  of  leader  and  people 
alike,  was  to  make  it  safe  for  the  future. 

Their  manners,  and  their  whole  system  of  civil  and  religious  laws,  offered 
a  ready  and  effectual  means  to  aid  them  in  this  supreme  object.  It  was  only 
necessary  to  secure  an  intensely  conservative  spirit  which  should  exclude 
all  change,  and  Israel  would  henceforth  have  an  abiding  vitality  as  a 
separate  people.  Nor  was  this  difficult,  for  the  ancient  frame-work  of 
their  social  polity  largely  provided  for  it.  The  spirit  of  Judaism,  as  embodied 
in  its  sacred  law,  directly  commanded,  or  indirectly  implied,  all  that  was 
needed.  Intercourse  with  other  nations,  as  far  as  possible,  must  bo 
prevented;  the  introduction  of  foreign  culture  shut  out;  the  youth  of 
the  nation  trained  on  a  fixed  model;  and,  finally,  no  gap  must  be  left  by 
which  new  opinions  might  possibly  rise  from  within  the  people  themselves. 
For  this  last  end  some  studies  must  be  entirely  prohibited,  and  others 
rewarded  with  supreme  honour  and  advantage.  Finally,  some  caste  or 
class  must  make  it  their  special  care  to  see  that  this  great  aim  of  national 
isolation  be  steadily  carried  out — a  caste  which  should  itself  be  secure  of 
abiding  unchangeableness,  by  clinging  fanatically  to  all  that  was  old  and 
traditional,  and  shrinking  from  any  contact  with  whatever  was  foreign  or 
new. 

The  Mosaic  laws  had  already  inclined  the  Jew  to  a  dislike  to  friendly 
intercourse  witli  other  nations,  and  this  feeling  grew  to  a  fixed  contempt 
and  aversion  towards  the  rest  of  mankind,  after  the  return,  as  .Judaism 
deepened  into  a  haughty  bitterness  of  soul,  under  the  influence  of  national 
sufferings,  and  weakened  spiritual  life.  Tacitus  describes  the  Jews  of 
his  day  as  true  to  each  other  and  ready  with  help,  but  filled  with  bitter 
hatred  towards  all  other  men ;  eating  and  marrying  only  among  them- 
selves ;  a  people  marked  by  sensual  passions,  but  indulging  them  only 
within  their  own  race  .  .  .  The  first  instruction  to  proselytes,  says 
he,  is  to  despise  the  gods,  to  abjure  their  country,  and  to  cast  off  parents, 
children,  or  brothers.  Juvenal  paints  them  as  refusing  to  point  out  the 
way  to  any  but  a  Jew,  or  to  lead  any  one,  not  circumcised,  to  a  fountain  he 
sought. 

A  nation  which  thus  hated  all  other  men  would  be  little  disposed  to  sit 
at  the  feet  of  any  peoi^le  as  scholars.  Prejudice,  strengthened  by  express 
laws,  shut  out  all  foreign  culture.  A  curse  was  denounced  against  any 
Jew  who  kept  pigs,  or  taught  his  child  Greek.  No  one  could  hope  for 
eternal  life  who  read  the  books  of  other  nations.  Josephus,  with  true 
Jewish  pride,  and  smooth  hypocrisy,  tells  us  that  his  race  looked  doAvn  on 
those  who  had  learned  the  language  of  foreign  nations,  such  an  accom- 
plishment being  common  not  only  to  free-born  men,  but  to  any  slave  who 
fancied  it.  He  only  is  reckoned  wise,  he  adds,  among  the  Jews,  who  is 
skilled  in  the  Law,  and  able  to  explain  the  sacred  writings.  In  the  days 
of  our  Lord,  when  advancement  could  l^e  obtained  only  by  a  knowledge  of 
Greek  and  of  Grecian  culture,  pride  and  scruples  often  gave  way  before 
interest.  Still  the  nation,  as  a  whole,  held  ignorance  of  everything  not 
Jewish  a  sacred  part  of  their  religion. 

It  was  as  little  permitted  that  the  hated  Gentile  should  learn  the  Hebrew 


THE    JEWISH   WORLD   AT    THE    TIME    OP    CnRIST.  43 

language  or  read  the  Law.  St.  Jerome  expatiates  on  the  trouble  and  cost 
he  had  at  Jorusaleni  and  Bethlehem  to  get  a  Jew  to  help  him  in  his 
Hebrew  studies.  His  teacher  "  feared  the  Jews,  like  a  second  Nicodemus." 
"  He  who  teaches  infidels  the  LaAV,"  said  the  Eabbis,  "  transgresses  the 
express  words  of  the  command ;  for  God  made  Jacob  "  (the  Jews,  not  the 
heathen)  "to  know  the  Law." 

But  though  thus  jealous  of  otliers,  the  greatest  care  was  taken  bj^  the 
Jew  to  teach  his  own  people  the  sacred  books.  Josephus  boasts  that  "  if 
any  one  asked  one  of  his  nation  a  question  respecting  their  Law,  he  could 
answer  it  more  readily  than  give  his  own  name ;  for  he  learns  every  part 
of  it  from  the  first  dawn  of  intelligence,  till  it  is  graven  into  his  very 
soul."  That  every  Jewish  child  should  be  taught  to  read,  v/as  held  a 
religious  duty  ;  and  every  boy  was  required  to  learn  the  Law.  There  n  as 
no  Jew  who  did  not  know  thoroughly  the  duties  and  rites  of  his  religion, 
and  the  great  deeds  of  his  fathers  ;  the  misfortune  was,  that  they  were 
kept  ntterly  ignorant  of  any  other  history  than  their  own. 

The  exact  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  Books  of  the  Law  was,  thus, 
within  the  reach  of  all ;  but  much  more  was  needed  than  the  mere  learning 
by  heart  the  five  Books  of  Moses,  to  gain  the  repute  of  a  finished  legal 
knowledge.  The  almost  endless  comments  of  the  Eabbis  must  be  mastered, 
by  years  of  slavish  labour,  before  one  was  recognised  as  a  really  educated 
man.  Hence  the  nation  was  divided  into  two  great  classes  of  learned  and 
unlearned,  between  whom  there  lay  a  wide  gulf.  Puffed  up  with  bound- 
less pride  at  their  attainments,  the  former  frankly  denounced  their  less 
scholarly  countrymen  as  "  cursed  countrymen  "  or  boors. 

The  first  trace  of  a  distinct  caste  of  professional  legalists,  if  I  may  call 
them  so,  is  found  in  the  daj^s  of  Ezra  and  Wehemiah,  some  eighty  years 
after  the  return  from  Babylon.  Jewish  tradition  speaks  of  these  early 
Rabbis  as  the  "  men  of  the  Great  Synagogue,"  and  adds  that  they  trod  in 
the  footsteps  of  the  prophets  —  that  is,  that  they  were  their  virtual  suc- 
cessors. From  the  first  they  had  great  influence  in  the  State.  To  secure 
a  far  more  strict  observance  of  the  Law  than  had  been  known  before,  they 
gradually  formed  what  they  called  a  hedge  round  it — that  is,  they  added 
endless  refinements  and  subtleties  to  every  command,  that  by  the  ob- 
servance of  such  external  rites  and  precepts,  the  command  itself  should 
be  the  less  in  danger  of  being  broken.  To  this  "  hedge  "  Judaism  owes 
the  rigid  fidelity  of  its  people  ever  since  ;  for  rites  and  forms  at  all  times 
find  a  much  stricter  obedience  from  the  masses  than  the  commands  of  a 
spiritual  religion. 

In  spite  of  all  precautions,  however,  the  new  State  had  already  the 
seeds  of  religious  division  in  its  midst,  in  a  number  of  doctrines,  hitherto 
more  or  less  unknown,  which  had  been  brought  back  in  the  return  from 
the  captivity.  These  were  adopted  by  the  orthodox  party,  who  were  the 
great  majority,  but  rejected  by  a  few,  in  whom  may  be  traced  the  germ  of 
the  sect  afterwards  known  as  the  Sadducees.  The  orthodox  leaders,  on 
the  other  hand,  were  the  beginning  of  the  party  afterwards  known  as 
the  Pharisees.  It  was  they  who  put  the  "  hedge  "  round  the  Law ;  the 
Sadducees  insisted  on  standing  by  the  simple  letter  of  the  laws  of  Moses 


44  THE   LIFE   OP  CHRIST. 

alone.  The  one  were  the  High-Churchmen  of  their  nation,  the  others  the 
Rationalists,  with  a  cold  creed  which  denied  the  existence  of  angels,  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  a  future  state,  and  rejected  Rabbinical 
tradition.  The  mass  of  the  nation  followed  the  Pharisees  :  the  Saddvicees 
were  always  a  very  small  body. 

The  Pharisees,  as  the  leaders  of  the  great  bulk  of  the  people,  soon 
merged  more  strictly  religious  aims  in  the  political  one  of  moulding  the 
State  into  a  spurious  independent  theocracy,  under  the  rule  of  their 
party.  The  Law,  as  expounded  by  them,  with  their  thousand  additions, 
was  to  rule  supreme,  in  civil  as  Avell  as  religious  life ;  in  the  affairs  of  the 
nation,  as  well  as  those  of  the  individual. 

The  stormy  times  of  the  later  Maccabaean  kings  gave  the  Pharisees  an 
opportunity  of  playing  a  great  part  in  the  nation.  The  priests  had  pre- 
viously given  the  new  State  a  head  in  the  person  of  the  high  priest, 
Simon,  brother  of  Judas  MaccabEeus.  But  his  grandsons  quarrelled,  and 
the  future  history  of  the  house  became  little  more  than  a  record  of 
cruelties,  disputes  for  the  throne,  civil  wars,  and  persecutions.  The 
orthodox  party,  led  by  the  Pharisees,  stoutly  resisted  the  growing  corrup- 
tion, which  ended  by  the  Romans  assuming  supreme  authority  in  Judea, 
with  Herod  as  the  vassal  king.  Asked  to  be  arbiters,  they  ended  as  con- 
querors. The  supremacy  of  the  Pharisees,  who  had  done  much  to  assist 
the  popular  cause,  was  now  secure.  They  had  organized  themselves  as  a 
great  power  in  the  State,  and  maintained  this  position  till  the  fall  of  the 
nation.  Under  Herod  and  the  Romans,  they  were  the  soul  of  the  great 
national  party,  which  only  sullenly  submitted  to  Herod  and  his  family,  or 
to  the  Roman  power,  as,  alike,  foreign  oppressors,  whom  they  could  not 
shake  off,  foes  accursed  of  God,  as  usurpers  of  His  heritage.  To  them 
may  be  traced  the  restless  turbulence  of  the  nation,  which  neither  terror 
nor  flattery  could  appease — a  tui-bulence  which  made  Judea,  to  Hei-od  and 
the  Roman  emperors,  what  Ireland  at  one  time  was  to  England,  and 
Poland  to  Russia — the  seat  of  chronic  revolt,  which  knew  no  considera- 
tions of  odds  against  success,  and  seemed  to  take  counsel  of  despair. 

At  the  time  of  our  Lord  the  Pharisees  were  at  the  height  of  their  power. 
Josephus  tells  us  that  they  numbered  above  6,000  men  in  Judea,  in  the 
days  of  Herod  the  Great ;  that  the  women,  as  especially  given  to  religious 
enthusiasm,  were  on  their  side,  and  that  they  even  had  power  enough,  at 
times,  to  defy  the  king.  He  describes  them  by  name  as  a  party  among 
the  Jews  who  prided  themselves  greatly  on  their  knowledge  of  the  Law, 
and  made  men  believe  they  were  holier  than  their  neighbours,  and  especi- 
all}^  in  favour  with  God,  and  relates  how  they  plotted  with  some  of  the 
ladies  of  Herod's  family  to  put  Herod  to  death.  They  thwarted  and 
opposed  the  king,  he  says,  on  every  hand,  refusing  to  own  his  authority 
or  that  of  Rome,  or  to  swear  allegiance  either  to  him  or  the  Emperor, 
when  all  the  nation  was  called  on  to  do  so,  and,  with  the  exception  of 
them,  consented.  They  even  claimed  the  gift  of  prophecy,  through  the 
inspiration  of  God,  asserting  that  He  had  decreed  that  Herod  should  die, 
and  that  the  kingdom  would  pass  to  those  who  had  shown  them  favour. 
The  Sadducees  had  shrunk  to  a  party  few  in  number,  thongh  high  ni 


THE    JEWISH   WORLD    AT   THE    TIME    OF    CHRIST.  45 

position,  and  had  become  so  unpopular  that  when  ajipointed  to  any  office, 
they  accepted  it  sorely  against  their  will,  and  were  forced  to  carry  out 
the  views  of  their  I'ivals — the  Pharisees — for  fear  of  the  popular  fury. 

The  political  schemes  of  this  great  party  were  not  confined  to  Judea. 
Its  members  were  numerous  in  every  part  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  were 
all  closely  bound  to  each  other.  Without  a  formal  organization  or  a 
recognised  head,  they  wei'e  yet,  in  fact,  a  disciplined  army,  by  implicit 
and  universal  assent  to  the  same  opinions.  The  same  spirit  and  aim 
inspired  all  alike :  teacher  and  follower,  over  the  world,  were  but  mvitual 
echoes.  They  were,  in  effect,  the  democratic  party  of  their  nation,  the 
true  representatives  of  the  people,  with  the  Maccabajan  creed  that  "  God 
has  given  to  all,  alike,  the  kingdom,  priesthood,  and  holiness."  They 
considered  themselves  the  guardians  of  the  Law  and  of  the  ancestral 
customs,  and  trusted  implicitly  that  He  who  selected  iheir  nation  to  be 
His  peculiar  people  would  protect  them  and  their  country  from  all  dangei's, 
believing  that,  as  long  as  they  were  faithful  to  God,  no  earthly  power 
would  in  the  end  be  permitted  to  rule  over  them.  They  repudiated  the 
time-serving  policy  of  the  Herodian  Sadducees,  who  maintained  that  a 
man's  destiny  was  in  his  own  hands,  and  that  human  policy  ought  to 
dictate  political  action.  Their  noble  motto  was  that  "  everything  depends 
upon  God  but  a  man's  piety."  The  misfortune  was  that,  to  a  large  extent, 
tlioy  divorced  religion  from  morality,  laying  stress  on  the  exact  perform- 
ance of  outward  rites,  rather  than  on  the  duties  of  the  heart  and  life, 
so  that  it  was  possible,  as  has  been  said  of  the  Indian  Brahmins,  for  the 
worst  men  among  them  to  be,  in  their  sense,  the  most  religious. 

The  one  thought  of  this  great  party,  in  every  land,  was  nothing  less 
than  the  founding  of  a  grand  hierarchy,  perhaps  under  the  Messiah,  in 
which  the  Jews  should  reign  over  the  whole  world,  and  Jerusalem  become 
the  metropolis  of  the  earth.  They  did  not  confine  themselves  to  the 
spread  of  superstition  and  fanaticism  amongst  their  own  race,  but  sought 
proselytes  in  every  country,  especially  among  the  rich  and  among  women. 
In  Rome  itself,  sunk  as  it  was,  like  all  the  Gentile  world  of  that  age,  in 
the  dreariness  of  worn-out  religions,  they  made  many  female  converts 
among  the  great,  even  in  the  palace  of  the  Caesars.  Their  kindness  to 
their  poor,  their  loving  family  life,  their  pui-e  morals  compared  to  the 
abominations  of  the  times,  their  view  of  death  as  a  sleep,  their  hope  of 
resting  with  the  just,  and  rising  with  them  to  immortal  happiness,  had 
special  charms  in  such  an  age.  The  Great  Synagogue  of  Ezra's  day^ 
according  to  their  traditions,  had  left  them  a  solemn  charge — "to  make 
many  scholars  ;  "  and  they  compassed  sea  and  land,  in  furtherance  of  this 
command,  to  secure  one  proselyte,  though  their  worthless  dependence,  in 
too  many  cases,  on  mere  outward  religiousness,  often  made  him,  when 
won,  "  twofold  more  the  child  of  hell  than  themselves."  The  vast  numbers 
thus  gained  to  Judaism  are  shown  in  the  multitudes  from  all  countries 
present  at  the  Passover  immediately  after  our  Lord's  death,  and  from 
many  passages  in  heathen  writers. 

The  Pharisees,  or,  as  I  may  call  them,  the  Rabbis,  had  thrown  the 
hereditary  priestly  body  of  the  nation  quite  into  the  shade  in  the  days  of 


46  .  ,  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Christ.  A  priest  gained  his  position  by  birtli;  a  Eabbi  owed  his  to 
himself.  The  Temple  service,  and  the  vast  sums  of  money  received  from 
Jews  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  as  a  yearly  tax  in  support  of  their  religion, 
gave  the  priests  great  influence,  and  opened,  to  the  higher  grades,  the 
control  of  the  greatest  ecclesiastical  offices  in  the  nation,  v>^hich  still 
survived.  But  the  influence  of  the  Pharisees  was  so  overwhelmins:  that 
even  the  high  priests  were  glad  to  respect  their  opinions,  to  secure  public 
favour.  "  A  priest,"  says  the  Mischna,  "  has  precedence  of  a  Levite,  a 
Levite  of  other  Israelites,  a  common  Israelite  of  a  bastard,  a  bastard  of 
one  of  the  JNTethinim,  a  Nethin  of  a  foreign  proselyte,  a  foreign  proselyte 
of  a  freed  .slave.  This  is  the  law  when  these  persons  are  equal  in  other 
respects;  but  if  a  Ijastard  be  a  Eabbi  (a  scholar  of  the  wise),  and  the 
high  priest  not  a  Rabbi  (and,  therefore,  one  of  'the  ignorant  country 
people '  who  are  '  cursed '  for  not  knowing  the  Pharisaic  traditions  and 
requirements),  such  a  bastard  takes  a  liigher  place  than  such  a  high 
priest."  The  multitudinous  rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Mosaic  Law,  with 
the  vast  additions  of  the  Pharisaic  "hedge,"  and  the  corrupting  influence 
of  power  and  gener.il  flattery,  had  the  worst  effects  on  the  Pharisees  as  a 
body.  They  gave  themselves  up  largely  to  foi'malism,  outward  religious- 
ness, self-complacency,  immeasurable  spiritual  pride,  love  of  praise,  super- 
stition, and  deceit,  till  at  last,  after  the  destruction  of  the  Temple,  tliey 
themselves  laid  the  name  of  Pharisee  aside,  from  its  having  become  the 
symbol  of  mingled  fanaticism  and  hypocrisy.  How  thoroughly  does  this 
vindicate  the  language  often  used  respecting  them  in  the  Gospels  ! 

Yet  it  must  not  be  thought  that  there  were  no  good  men  in  their  number. 
Though  the  Talmud  names  six  classes  of  them,  which  it  denounces,  it  has 
a  seventh — the  Pharisee  from  Iiove,  who  obeys  God  because  he  loves  Him 
with  all  his  heart.  But  the  six  classes  doubtless  marked  the  character- 
istics of  too  large  a  proportion.  Among  the  many  figures  whom  our  Lord 
passed  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  elsewhere,  He  must  often  have  met 
those  to  v«'hom  the  by-name  was  given  of  Shechemite  Pharisees — who  kept 
the  Law  only  for  interest,  as  Shechem  submitted  to  circumcision  simply  to 
obtain  Dinah ;  or  the  Tumbling  Pharisee,  who,  to  appear  humble  before 
men,  always  hung  down  his  head,  and  shuffled  with  his  feet  on  the  ground, 
so  that  he  constantly  stumbled ;  or  the  Bleeding  Pharisee,  who,  to  keep 
himself  from  seeing  a  woman,  walked  with  his  eyes  shut,  and,  so,  often 
bled  his  head  against  posts;  or  the  Mortar  Phai'isee,  with  a  cap  like  a 
mortar  over  his  eyes,  to  shut  out  all  that  might  shock  his  pure  nature ;  or 
the  What-more-can-I-do  Pharisee,  who  claimed  to  have  kept  the  whole 
_jaw,  and  wished  to  know  something  new,  that  he  might  do  it  also ;  or  the 
Pharisee  from  Fear,  Avho  kept  the  Law  only  for  fear  of  the  judgment  to 
come.  But  He  would  also  see  Pharisees  such  as  Hillel,  the  greatest  of  the 
Eabbis,  the  second  Ezra,  who  was,  perhaps,  still  alive  when  Christ  was 
born — who  taught  his  school  of  a  thousand  pupils  such  precepts  as  "  to  be 
gentle,  and  show  all  meekness  to  all  men,"  "when  reviled  not  to  revile 
again,"  to  "Love  peace  and  pursue  it,  be  kindly  affectionate  to  all  men, 
and  thus  commend  the  law  of  God,"  or  "  Whatsoever  thou  wouldst  not 
that  a  man  should  do  to  thee,  do  not  thou  to  him," — or  like  just  Simeon, 


THE    EABBIS   AT   THE    TIME    OF    CHEIST.  47 

who  was  a  Pharisee,  or  Zacharias,  the  father  of  the  Baptist,  or  Gamaliel, 
the  teacher  of  Paul,  or  like  Paul  himself,  for  all  these  were  Pharisees,  and 
must  have  been  types  of  many  moi'e. 

The  Pharisees  had,  however,  as  a  whole,  outlived  their  true  usefulness 
in  the  days  of  Christ,  and  had  become  largely  a  holloAV  pretence  and 
hypocrisy,  as  the  monks  and  friars  of  Luther's  day,  or  earlier,  had  outlived 
the  earnest  sincerity  and  real  worth  of  the  days  of  their  founders.  They 
had  done  good  service  in  former  times,  in  keeping  alive  the  faith  of  their 
nation  in  the  Messiah,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  the  judgment  to  come,  but  they  were  now  fast  sinking  into  the 
deep  corruption  which,  in  a  generation  after  Christ's  death,  made  them 
dro]j  tl\e  very  name  of  their  party. 


CHAPTER 

THE   EABBIS   AT   THE   TIME    OF    CIIRIST,   AND   THEIB   IDEAS   RESPECTING 

THE   MESSIAH. 

IF  the  most  important  figures  in  the  society  of  Christ's  day  were  the 
Pharisees,  it  was  because  they  were  the  Eabbis  or  teachers  of  the  Law. 
As  such  they  received  superstitious  honour,  which  was,  indeed,  the  great 
motive,  with  manj',  to  court  the  title  or  join- the  party. 

The  Eabbis  were  classed  with  Moses,  the  patriarchs,  and  the  prophets, 
and  claimed  equal  reverence.  Jacob  and  Joseph  were  both  said  to  have 
been  Eabbis.  The  Targum  of  Jonathan  substitutes  Eabbis,  or  Scribes,  for 
the  word  "prophets,"  where  it  occurs.  Josephns  speaks  of  the  prophets 
of  Saul's  day  as  Eabbis.  In  the  Jerusalem  Targum  all  the  patriarchs  are 
learned  Eabbis  :  Isaac  learned  in  the  school  of  Seth  ;  Jacob  attended  the 
school  of  Eber ;  and,  hence,  no  wonder  that  Eabbis  are  a  delight  to  God 
like  the  incense  burned  before  Him !  They  were  to  be  dearer  to  Israel 
than  father  or  mother,  because  parents  avail  only  in  this  world,  but  the 
Eabbi  for  ever.  They  were  set  above  kings,  for  is  it  not  written,  "Through 
me  kings  reign  "  ?  Their  entrance  into  a  house  brought  a  blessing;  to  live 
or  to  cat  with  them  was  the  highest  good  fortune.  To  dine  with  a  Eabbi 
was  as  if  to  enjoy  the  splendour  of  heavenly  majesty,  for  it  is  written, 
"  Then  came  Aaron  and  all  the  elders  in  Israel,  to  eat  bread  with  Moses' 
father-in-law  before  God." 

To  learn  a  single  verse,  or  even  a  single  letter,  from  a  Pi-abbi  could  be 
repaid  only  by  the  profoundest  respect,  for  did  not  tradition  say  that  David 
learned  only  two  words  from  Ahithophel,  and  yet,  simply  for  this,  David 
made  him  his  teacher,  counsellor,  and  friend,  as  it  is  written,  "  Thou  art 
a  man  mine  equal,  my  guide,  and  mine  acquaintance  ?  "  The  table  of  the 
Eablji  was  nobler  than  that  of  kings ;  and  his  crown  more  glorious  than 
theirs. 

The  Eabbis  went  even  further  than  this  in  exalting  their  order.  The 
Mischna  declares  that  it  is  a  greater  crime  to  speak  anything  to  their 
discredit  than  to  speak  against  the  words  of  the  Law.     The  words  of  the 


48  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

llalj'bis  are  to  be  held  as  worth  more  than  the  words  of  the  prophets;  fur  the 
prophet  is  like  a  kmg's  legate  who  is  to  be  owned  on  showing  his  master's 
signet,  but  the  Rabbis  need  no  such  witness,  since  it  is  written  of  them, 
"  Thou  shalt  do  according  to  the  sentence  which  they  shall  show  thee ;  " 
whereas  it  is  said  of  the  prophets,  "If  he  giveth  thee  a  sign  or  a  wonder." 
Miracles  are  related  which  happened  to  confirm  the  sayings  of  Eabbis. 
One  cried  out, when  his  opinion  was  disputed,  "May  this  tree  prove  that  I 
am  right !  "  and  forthwith  the  tree  was  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  hurled  a 
Imndred  ells  off.  But  his  opponents  declared  that  a  tree  could  prove  nothing. 
"  May  this  stream,  then,  witness  for  me  !  "  cried  Eliezer,  and  at  once  it 
flowed  the  opposite  way.  Still,  his  opponents  urged  tliat  water  could 
prove  notliing.  "  Now,"  said  Eliezer,  "  if  truth  be  on  my  side,  may  the 
walls  of  the  school  confirm  it !  "  He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  the  walls 
began  to  bow  inwards.  The  Rabbi  Joshua  threatened  them  :  "  What  is  it 
to  you  if  the  sons  of  the  wise  dispute  ?  you  shall  not  fall ;  "  and,  to  honour 
Rablji  Joshua,  the  walls  did  not  fall  wholly  together  ;  but  neither  did  tliey 
go  back  to  their  places,  but  remain  slanting  to  this  day,  that  the  honour 
of  Rabin  Eliezer  might  not  suffer.  At  last  Eliezer  called  for  the  decision 
of  heaven :  "  If  I  am  right,  let  heaven  witness."  Then  came  a  voice  from 
heaven,  and  said,  "Why  dispute  ye  with  Rabbi  Eliezer .'^  he  is  always 
right ! " 

Inordinate  pride,  one  might  think,  could  hardly  go  farther  than  this,  but 
the  bigoted  vanity  of  the  Rabbis  Christ  had  daily  to  meet,  was  capable 
even  of  blasphemy  in  its  claims.  The  Talmud  tells  us  that  there  are 
schools  of  the  heavenly  Rabbis  above,  as  well  as  those  of  the  earthly 
Rabbis  here,  and  relates  that  there  once  rose  in  the  great  Rabbi's  school 
of  heaven  a  dispute  respecting  the  law  of  the  leper.  The  Almighty,  who 
is  the  Chief  Rabbi  of  the  skies,  pronounced  a  certain  case,  detailed  in  the 
text,  as  clean.  But  all  the  angels  thought  differently — for  the  angels  are 
the  scholars  iii  this  great  academy.  Then  said  they,  "  Who  shall  decide  in 
this  matter  between  us?"  It  was  agreed  on  both  sides — God  and  the 
angels — to  summon  Ravah,  the  son  of  Nachman,  since  he  was  wont  to  say 
of  himself,  "  No  one  is  equal  to  me  in  questions  respecting  lej^rosy." 
Thereupon  the  Angel  of  Death  was  sent  to  him,  and  caused  him  to  die, 
and  brought  his  soul  up  to  heaven,  where  Ravah,  when  brought  before 
the  heavenly  academy,  confirmed  the  opinion  of  God,  which  gave  God 
no  little  delight.  Then  heavenly  voices,  which  sounded  down  even  to  the 
earth,  exalted  the  name  of  Ravah  greatly,  and  mii-acles  were  wrought  at 
his  grave. 

Such  a  story  illustrates  better  than  any  words  the  audacious  claims  and 
blasjihemous  spiritual  pride  with  which  our  Lord  had  to  contend,  and 
which  He  often  rebukes  in  the  Pharisees  of  His  day.  Even  the  Talmud 
itself,  in  other  parts,  is  forced  to  reprove  it.  The  only  palliation  of  it  lies 
in  the  fact  that  the  Law  itself  was  written  in  a  language  which  the  people 
had  long  ceased  to  speak,  so  that  it  was  left  to  the  Rabbis  to  explain  and 
apply  it.  The  heads  and  leaders  of  the  nation,  they  kept  it  in  their  lead- 
ing-strings. It  had  come  into  their  hands  thus,  and  they  were  determined 
to  keep  it  in  the  same  state.     Heresy,  which  would  be  fatal  to  the  blind 


THE    RABBIS   AT    THE    TIME    OP    CHRIST.  49 

unanimity  which  was  their  political  strength,  could  only  be  excluded  by 
rigidly  denouncing  the  least  departure  from  their  precejjts.  The  Law  and 
the  Prophets  must,  therefore,  be  understood  only  in  the  sense  of  their 
traditions.  The  reading  of  the  Scriptures  was  hence  discouraged,  lest  it 
should  win  thoir  hearts,  and  they  should  cease  to  reverence  the  words  of 
the  Eabbis.  One  hour  was  to  be  spent  on  the  Scriptures  in  the  schools  : 
two  on  the  traditions.  The  study  of  the  Talmud  alone  won  honour  from 
God  as  from  man.  That  vast  mass  of  traditions,  which  now  fills  twelve 
folio  volumes,  was,  in  reality,  the  Bible  of  the  Eabbis  and  of  their  scholars. 

Yet,  in  form,  the  Law  received  boundless  honour.  Every  saying  of  the 
Rabbis  had  to  be  based  on  some  woi'ds  of  it,  which  were,  however, 
explained  in  their  own  way.  Tlie  spirit  of  the  times,  the  wild  fanaticism 
of  the  people,  and  their  own  bias,  tended,  alike,  to  make  them  set  value 
only  on  ceremonies  and  worthless  externalisms,  to  the  utter  neglect  of  the 
spirit  of  the  sacred  writings.  Still,  it  was  owned  that  the  Law  needed  no 
confirmation,  while  the  words  of  the  Eabbis  did. 

So  far  as  the  Eoman  authority  under  which  they  lived  left  them  free, 
the  Jews  willingly  put  all  power  in  the  hands  of  the  Eabbis.  They  or 
their  nominees  filled  every  office,  from  the  highest  in  the  priesthood  to  the 
lowest  in  the  community.  They  were  the  casuists,  the  teachers,  the 
priests,  the  judges,  the  magistrates,  and  the  physicians  of  the  nation. 
But  their  authority  went  still  further,  for,  by  the  Eabbinical  laws,  nearly 
everything  in  daily  life  needed  their  counsel  and  aid.  No  one  could  be 
born,  circumcised,  brought  up,  educated,  betrothed,  married,  or  buried — 
no  one  could  celeln-ate  the  Sabbath  or  other  feasts,  or  begin  a  business,  or 
make  a  contract,  or  kill  a  beast  for  food,  or  even  bake  bread,  without  the 
advice  or  presence  of  a  Eabbi.  The  words  of  Christ  respecting  binding 
and  loosing  were  a  Eabbinical  proverb  :  they  bound  and  they  loosed  as 
they  thought  fit.  AVhat  they  loosed  was  permitted— what  they  bound  was 
forbidden.  They  were  the  brain,  the  eyes,  the  ears,  the  nerves,  the 
muscles  of  the  people,  who  were  mere  children  apart  from  them. 

This  amazing  power,  which  has  lasted  for  two  thousand  j-cars,  owed  its 
vitality  to  the  fact  that  no  Eabbi  could  take  money  for  any  official  duty. 
They  might  enslave  the  minds  of  the  people,  l)ut  they  never  abused  tlieir 
despotism  to  make  gain  of  them.  The  great  Eabbi  Hillel  says,  "  He  who 
makes  gain  of  the  words  of  the  Law,  his  life  will  be  taken  from  the 
world."  No  teacher,  preacher,  judge,  or  other  Eabl)inical  official,  could 
receive  money  for  his  services.  In  practice  this  grand  law  was  somewhat 
modified,  but  not  to  any  great  extent.  A  Rabbi  might  receive  a  moderate 
sum  for  his  duties,  not  as  payment,  but  only  to  make  good  the  loss  of  time 
which  he  might  have  used  for  his  profit.  Even  now  it  is  a  Jewish  jjroverb 
that  a  fat  Eabbi  is  little  worth,  and  such  a  feeling  must  have  checked 
those  who,  if  they  could,  would  have  turned  their  position  to  pecuniary 
advantage. 

How,  then,  did  the  Eabbis  live  ?  A  child  destined  for  this  dignity 
began  his  training  at  five  years  of  age,  and  gradually  shrank,  in  most 
cases,  into  a  mere  pedant,  with  no  desire  in  life  Ijeyond  the  few  wants 
needed  to  enable  him  to  continue  his  endless  study.     It  was,  moreover, 

£ 


50  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

required  tliat  every  Ilabl)i  slioiild  learn  a  tirade  by  which  to  support 
himself.  "  He  who  does  not  teach  his  son  a  trade,"  says  Rabbi  Jehuda, 
"  is  much  the  same  as  if  he  taught  him  to  be  a  thief." 

In  accordance  with  this  rule,  the  greatest  Eabbis  maintained  themselves 
by  trades.  The  most  famous  of  them  all.  Rabbi  Hillel,  senior,  supported 
himself  by  the  labour  of  his  hands.  One  Rabbi  was  a  needle-maker, 
another  a  smith,  another  a  shoemaker,  and  another,  like  St.  Paul,  who  also 
was  a  Rabbi,  was  a  tent-cover  weaver.  Rabbis  who  taught  in  schools 
received  small  presents  from  the  children. 

But  there  were  ways  by  which  even  Rabbis  could  get  wealth.  To  marry 
the  daughter  of  one  was  to  advance  one's-self  in  heaven  ;  to  get  a  Rabbi 
for  a  son-in-law,  and  provide  for  him,  was  to  secure  a  blessing.  They 
could  thus  marry  into  the  richest  families,  and  they  often  did  it.  They 
could,  besides,  become  partners  in  prosperous  commercial  houses. 

The  office  of  a  Rabbi  was  op^n  to  all,  and  this  of  itself  secured  the 
favour  of  the  nation  to  the  order,  just  as  the  same  democratic  feeling 
strengthened  the  Romish  Church  in  the  middle  ages.  The  humblest 
Jewish  boy  could  be  a  master  of  the  Law,  as  the  humblest  Christian,  in 
after-times,  could  in  the  same  way  be  a  monk  or  priest ;  and  the  learned 
son  of  a  labourer  might,  in  both  cases,  look  down  with  a  kind  of  contempt 
on  the  proudest  noble. 

Such,  then,  were  the  Rabbis  in  the  days  of  our  Lord.  They  were 
Pharisees  as  to  their  party,  and  Rabbis  in  their  relations  to  the  Law. 
That  one  who  came,  not  indeed  to  destroy  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  but 
to  free  them  from  the  joerversions  of  Rabbinical  theology,  should  have  been 
met  by  the  bitterest  hatred  and  a  cruel  death,  was  only  an  illustration  of 
the  sad  truth,  to  which  every  age  has  borne  witness,  that  ecclesiastical 
bodies  which  have  the  power  to  persecute,  identify  even  the  abuses  of 
their  system  with  the  defence  of  religion,  and  are  capalDle  of  any  crime  in 
their  blind  intolerance. 

The  central  and  dominant  characteristic  of  the  teaching  of  the  Rabbis 
was  the  certain  advent  of  a  great  national  Deliverer — the  Messiah,  or 
Anointed  of  God,  or,  in  the  Greek  translation  of  the  title,  the  Christ.  In 
no  other  nation  than  the  Jews  has  such  a  conception  ever  taken  such  root, 
or  shown  such  vitality.  From  the  times  of  their  great  national  troubles, 
under  their  later  kings,  the  words  of  Moses,  David,  and  the  prophets  had, 
alike,  been  cited  as  divine  promises  of  a  mighty  Prince,  who  should 
"restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel."  The  Captivity  only  deei^ened  the  faith 
in  His  duly  appearing,  by  increasing  the  need  of  it.  Their  fathers  in  far- 
distant  times  of  distraction  and  trouble,  had  clamoured  for  a  King,  who 
should  be  their  Messiah,  the  viceroy  of  God,  anointed  by  prophets. 
They  had  had  kings,  but  had  found  only  a  partial  good  from  them.  As 
ages  passed,  the  fascination  of  the  grand  Messianic  hope  grew  ever  more 
hallowed,  and  became  the  deepest  passion  in  the  hearts  of  all,  burning  and 
glowing  henceforth,  unquenchably,  more  and  more,  and  irrevocably  deter- 
mining the  whole  future  of  the  nation. 

For  a  time,  Cyrus  appeared  to  realize  the  promised  Deliverer,  or  at  least 
to  be  the  chosen  instrument  to  prepare  the  way  for  Him.     Zerubbabel,  in 


THE    EABBIS   AT    THE    TIME    OF    CHRIST.  51 

his  turn,  became  the  centre  of  Messianic  hopos.  Simon  Maccaloajus  was 
made  high-pviest-kiug  only  "  until  a  faithful  prophet — the  Messiah — 
should  arise."  As  the  glory  of  their  brief  independence  passed  away,  and 
the  Roman  succeeded  the  hated  Syrian  as  ruler  and  oppressor,  the  hope  in 
the  Star  which  was  to  come  out  of  Jacob  grew  brighter,  the  darker  the 
night.  Deep  gloom  filled  every  heart,  but  it  was  pierced  by  the  beam  of 
this  heavenly  confidence.  Having  no  present,  Israel  threw  itself  on  the 
future.  Literature,  education,  politics,  began  and  ended  Avith  the  great 
thought  of  the  Messiah.  "When  would  He  come  ?  What  mamier  of  king- 
dom would  He  raise  ?  The  national  mind  had  become  so  inflammable,  long 
before  Christ's  day,  by  constant  brooding  on  this  one  theme,  that  any  bold 
spirit,  rising  in  revolt  against  the  Eoman  power,  could  find  an  army  of 
fierce  disciples  who  trusted  that  it  should  be  he  who  would  redeem  Israel. 

"  That  the  testimony  of  Jesus  was  the  spirit  of  prophecy,"  was  but  the 
Christian  utterance  of  a  universal  Jewish  belief  respecting  the  Christ. 
"  All  the  prophets,"  says  R.  Chaja,  "  have  pi'ophesied  only  of  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  days  of  the  Messiah."  But  it  was  to  Daniel  especially,  with  his 
seeming  exactness  of  dates,  that  the  chief  regard  was  paid.  It  was  gene- 
rally believed  that  "  the  times  "  of  that  prophet  pointed  to  the  twentieth 
year  of  Herod  the  Great,  and,  w^hen  that  was  past,  not  to  mention  other 
dates,  the  year  67  of  our  reckoning  was  thought  the  period,  and  then  the 
year  135  ;  the  war  which  ended  in  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  rising  from 
the  one  calculation,  and  the  tremendous  insurrection  under  Hadrian  from 
the  other. 

With  a  few,  the  conception  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom  was  pure  and 
lofty.  The  hearts  of  such  as  Zacharias,  Elizabeth,  Mary,  Anna,  Simeon, 
and  John  the  Baptist,  realized,  more  or  less,  the  need  of  a  redemption  of 
the  nation  from  its  spiritual  corruption,  as  the  first  necessity.  This 
grander  conception  had  been  slowly  forming  in  the  minds  of  the  more 
religious.  Before  the  days  of  the  Maccabees,  the  conception  of  the 
Messiah  had  been  that  of  a  "  Son  of  David,"  who  should  restore  the 
splendour  of  the  Jewish  throne ;  and  this,  indeed,  continued  always  the 
general  belief.  But  neither  in  the  Book  of  Daniel  nor  in  the  later  religious 
writings  of  the  Jews  before  Christ,  is  the  Messiah  thus  named,  nor  is 
there  any  stress  laid  on  His  origin  or  birthplace.  Daniel,  and  all  who 
wrote  after  him,  paint  the  Expected  One  as  a  heavenly  being.  He  was  the 
Messenger,  the  Elect  of  God,  appointed  from  eternity,  to  appear  in  due 
time,  and  redeem  His  people.  The  world  was  committed  to  Him  as  its 
Judge  :  all  heathen  kings  and  lords  were  destined  to  -sink  in  the  dust 
before  Him,  and  the  idols  to  pcrisli  utterly,  that  the  holy  people,  the 
chosen  of  God,  under  Him,  might  reiga  for  ever.  He  was  the  Son  of  Man, 
but,  though  thus  man,  had  been  hidden  from  eternity,  in  the  all-glorious 
splendour  of  heaven,  and,  indeed,  was  no  other  than  the  Son  of  God, 
sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  of  His  Father.  He  was  the 
Archetypal  Man— the  ideal  of  pure  and  heavenly  Manhood,  in  contrast  to 
the  fallen  Adam.  Two  centuries  before  our  era.  He  was  spoken  of  as  "  the 
Word  of  God,"  or  as  "the  Word,"  and  as  "Wisdom,"  and  as,  in  this  way, 
the  Incarnation  of  the  Godhead. 


52  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Such  were,  iu  effect,  the  conceptions  gradually  matured  of  the  Messiah 
— the  Immortal  and  Eternal  King,  clothed  with  divine  power,  and  yet  a 
man — which  had  been  drawn  from  the  earliest,  as  well  as  the  latest,  sacred 
or  religious  writings  of  the  nation.  But  very  few  realized  that  a  heavenly 
King  must  imply  a  holy  kingdom ;  that  His  true  reign  must  be  in  the 
purified  souls  of  men.  Few  realized  that  the  true  preparation  for  His 
coming  was  not  vain-glorious  pride,  but  humiliation  for  sin. 

The  prevailing  idea  of  the  Ral^bis  and  the  people  alike,  in  Christ's  day, 
was,  that  the  Messiah  would  be  siinply  a  great  prince,  Avho  should  found  a 
kingdom  of  matchless  splendour.  ISTor  was  the  idea  of  His  heavenly 
origin  by  any  means  universal :  almost  all  fancied  He  would  be  only  a 
human  hero,  who  should  lead  them  to  victory. 

It  was  agreed  among  the  Eabbis  that  His  birthplace  must  be  Bethlehem, 
and  that  He  must  rise  from  the  tribe  of  Judah.  It  was  believed  that  He 
would  not  know  that  He  was  the  Messiah  till  Elias  came,  accompanied  by 
other  prophets,  and  anointed  Him.  Till  then  He  would  be  hidden  from 
the  people,  living  unknown  among  them.  The  better  Rabbis  taught  that 
the  sins  of  the  nation  had  kept  Him  from  aj^pearing,  and  that  "  if  the 
Jews  repented  for  one  day.  He  would  come."  He  was  first  to  appear  iu 
Galilee ;  for,  as  the  ten  tribes  had  first  suffered,  they  should  first  be 
visited.  He  was  to  free  Israel  by  force  of  arms,  and  subdue  the  world 
under  it.  "  How  beautiful,"  says  the  Jerusalem  Targum,  "  is  the  Kjng 
Messiah,  who  springs  from  the  house  of  Judah  !  He  girds  His  loins,  and 
descends,  and  orders  the  battle  against  His  enemies,  and  slays  their  kings 
and  their  chief  cajitains ;  there  is  no  one  so  mighty  as  to  stand  before 
Him.  He  makes  the  mountains  red  with  the  blood  of  His  slaughtered 
foes;  His  roljcs,  dyed  in  their  blood,  are  like  the  skins  of  the  purple 
grapes."  "  The  beasts  of  the  field  will  feed  for  twelve  months  on  the  flesh 
of  the  slain,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  will  feed  on  them  for  seven  years." 
"  The  Lord,"  says  the  Targum,  "  will  revenge  us  on  the  bands  of  Gog.  At 
that  hour  will  the  power  of  the  nations  be  broken  ;  they  will  be  like  a  ship 
whose  tackling  is  torn  away,  and  whose  mast  is  sprung,  so  that  the  sail 
can  no  longer  be  set  on  it.  Then  will  Israel  divide  the  treasures  of  the 
nations  among  them — a  great  store  of  booty  and  riches,  so  that,  if  there  be 
the  lame  and  blind  among  them,  even  they  will  have  their  share."  The 
heathen  will  then  turn  to  the  Lord,  and  walk  iu  His  light. 

The  universal  kingdom  thus  founded  was  to  be  an  earthly  paradise  for  the 
Jew.  In  that  day,  say  the  Rabbis,  there  will  be  a  handful  of  corn  on  the 
top  of  the  mountains,  and  the  stalks  will  be  like  palm-trees  or  pillars. 
Nor  will  it  be  any  trouble  to  reap  it,  for  God  will  send  a  wind  from  His 
chambers,  which  will  blow  down  the  white  flour  from  the  ears.  One  corn  of 
wheat  will  be  as  large  as  the  two  kidneys  of  the  hugest  ox.  All  the  trees 
will  bear  continually.  A  single  grape  will  load  a  waggon  or  a  ship,  and 
when  it  is  brought  to  the  house  they  will  draw  wine  from  it  as  from  a  cask. 

A  great  king  must  have  a  great  capital,  and  hence  Jerusalem,  the 
capital  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom,  will  be  very  glorious.  In  tlie  days  to 
come,  say  the  Rabbis,  God  will  bring  together  Sinai,  Tabor,  and  Carmel, 
and  set  Jerusalem  upon  them.     It  will  be  so  great  that  it  will  cover  as 


BIRTH    OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST.  53 

much  ground  as  a  horse  can  run  over  from  the  early  morning  till  its 
shadow  is  below  it  at  noon.  It  will  reach  to  the  gates  o£  Damascus. 
Some  of  them  even  tell  us  that  its  houses  will  be  built  three  miles  iu 
height.  Its  gates  will  be  of  precious  stones  and  pearls,  thirty  ells  long 
and  as  broad,  hollowed  out.  The  country  round  will  be  full  of  pearls  and 
precious  stones,  so  that  Jews  from  all  parts  may  come  and  take  of  them 
as  they  like. 

In  this  splendid  city  the  Messiah  is  to  reign  over  a  people  who  shall  all 
be  prophets.  A  fruitful  stream  will  break  forth  from  the  Temple  and 
water  the  land,  its  banks  shaded  by  trees  laden  with  the  richest  fruits. 
No  sickness  or  defect  will  be  known.  There  will  be  no  such  thing  as  a 
lame  man,  or  any  blind  or  leprous ;  the  dumb  will  speak  and  the  deaf 
hear.  It  will  be  a  triumphal  millennium  of  national  pride,  glory,  and 
enjoyment. 

It  was  to  a  people  drunk  with  the  vision  of  such  outward  felicity  and 
political  greatness,  under  a  world-conquering  Messiah,  that  Jesus  Christ 
came,  with  His  utterly  opposite  doctrines  of  the  aim  and  nature  of  the 
Messiah  and  His  kingdom.  Only  here  and  there  was  there  a  soul  with 
any  higher  or  purer  thoughts  than  such  gross,  material,  and  narrow  dreams. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BIRTH    OF   JOHN   THE   BAPTIST. 

r  I  1  HE  time  had  at  last  come,  when  "  the  mj-stery  which  had  been  hid 
-*-  from  ages  and  from  generations  " — the  high  purpose  of  God  in  the 
two  thousand  years'  history  of  Israel— was  to  be  revealed.  The  true 
relations  of  man  to  his  Maker  and  Heavenly  King  had  been,  throughout, 
the  grand  truth  to  be  taught  to  mankind,  in  all  future  ages,  from  the 
education  and  example  of  the  Jewish  race,  and  this  truth  was  now  to  be 
revealed  directly  by  God  Himself,  all  lower  agencies  and  means  having 
proved  inadequate. 

The  people  of  Israel  had  been  set  apart  by  God,  while  yet  onlj^  a  family, 
as  specially  His  own.  Brought  at  last,  after  centuries,  through  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  household,  the  bondage  of  Egypt,  and  the  life  of  the  wilder- 
ness, to  a  settled  home,  as  a  nation,  in  Canaan,  thej'^  were  still  more 
distinctly  proclaimed  by  Him  as  "  His  peojile,"  "  the  portion  of  Jehovah  " 
— the  "lot  of  His  inheritance."  Tlie  Lord  their  God  was  their  only  King, 
and  they  were  declared  to  be  a  "  people  holy  to  Him,"  chosen  as  peculiai'lj' 
His,  "  above  all  other  nations."  In  them,  as  a  nation,  if  they  faithfully 
observed  the  "covenant"  which  they  had  made  with  Him,  was  to  be  ex- 
liibited  the  spectacle  of  a  visible  kingdom  of  God  amongst  men — its 
obligations  on  the  side  of  man,  its  high  privileges  on  that  of  Heaven. 

As  centuries  passed,  however,  it  was  clear  that  Israel  failed  to  realize 
the  ideal  of  a  "people  of  Jehovah,"  with  Him  as  its  direct  and  supreme 
Ruler.     The  anarchy  of  the  days  of  the  Judges — a  period  not  unlike  our 


54  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

own  early  history — showed  too  clearly  that  the  nation,  as  such,  was  far 
from  illustrating  the  true  relations  of  man  to  God. 

The  Kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  in  the  simplest  form  of  His  direct  rules 
with  no  human  intervention,  having  proved  too  lofty  and  spiritual  a  con- 
ception, the  second  step  in  its  development  was  introduced,  by  the 
appointment  of  a  supreme  magistrate  as  His  representative  and  viceroy, 
He  remaining  the  actual  Sovereign.  The  king  of  Israel  stood,  thus,  before 
the  people,  simply  as  the  deputy  of  its  invisible  King,  and  was  as  much 
His  servant,  bound  in  all  things  to  carry  out  only  His  will,  as  any  of  his 
own  subjects.  Yet  his  office,  as  the  vicegerent  of  God,  had  an  awful 
dignity.  He  was  "the  Lord's  Anointed" — his  Messiah — consecrated  to 
the  dignity  by  the  holy  oil,  which  had,  till  then,  been  used  only  for 
priests. 

But  the  ideal  sought  was  as  far  from  being  attained  as  ever.  The 
history  of  Israel  was  very  soon  only  that  of  other  kingdoms  round  it. 
Instead  of  being  holy  to  Jehovah,  it  turned  from  Him  to  servo  other  gods, 
and  grew  corrupt  in  morals  as  well  as  creed.  The^  order  of  prophets 
strove  to  restore  the  sinking  State,  and  recall  the  nation  to  its  faith ;  and 
good  kings  from  time  to  time  listened  to  them,  and  sought  to  carry  out 
their  counsels.  But  the  people  themselves  were  degenerate,  and  many  of 
the  kings  found  it  easy  to  lead  them  into  still  greater  sin  and  apostasy. 
The  prophets — at  once  the  mouthpieces  of  God  and  the  tribunes  of  the 
people— nobly  resisted,  but  only  to  become  martyrs  to  their  fidelity.  The 
inevitable  result  came,  in  the  end,  in  the  ruin  of  the  State,  and  the  exile 
in  Assyria  and  Babylon. 

The  third  step  was  no  less  a  failure.  On  the  return  from  captivity,  a 
zeal  for  Jehovah  as  the  only  King  of  Israel  became  the  deep  and  abiding 
passion  of  all  Jews.  Henceforward,  it  was  determined  that  what  we 
might  call  the  "  Church  "  should  act  as  His  vicegerent.  By  turns,  priests, 
priest-kings,  and  other  ecclesiastical  or  religious  leaders,  led  the  nation ; 
but  only  as  temporary  substitutes  for  a  great  expected  King  —  the 
Messiah,  before  whose  glory  even  that  of  David  or  Solomon,  their  most 
famous  monarchs,  would  be  as  nothing.  But  they  were  as  insensible  as 
ever  to  tlie  highest  characteristics  of  a  true  Prince  of  the  "people  of 
God ;  "  ruler  or  subject,  alike,  looking  only  to  outward  power  and  splendour, 
and  political  ambition,  and  forgetful  of  the  grand  fact  that  the  kingdom 
of  God  must,  first,  of  necessity,  be  the  reign  of  holiness  and  truth,  in  both, 
Eeligion  became  a  thing  of  outward  observances,  with  which  the  heart 
and  life  had  no  necessary  connection.  The  Messianic  hopes  of  the  cen- 
turies immediately  before  Christ  degenerated  into  a  standing  conspiracy 
of  the  nation  against  their  actual  rulers,  and  a  vain  confidence  that  God 
would  raise  up  some  deliverer,  who  would  "restore  the  kingdom  to 
Israel"  in  a  merely  political  sense. 

Thus  the  true  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  God  had  been  well-nigh  lost. 
A  few  of  the  Eabljis,  indeed,  with  a  finer  spiritual  sense,  taught  tliat  the 
condition  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  must  be  sincere  repentance  for 
their  sins,  on  the  part  of  the  nation,  and  a  return  to  a  purer  state.  But 
such  counsels  had  little  weight  with  the  community.    Blindly  self-righteous, 


BIRTH   OF   JOHN   THE   BAPTIST.  55 

and  yet  wedded  to  evil,  everythiug  tended  to  a  speedy  extinction  of  Judaism 
by  its  inveterate  corruption. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  first  direct  steps  were  taken  by  God  towards 
the  advent  of  the  true  Messiah,  who  should  finally  erect,  once  for  all.  His, 
the  true,  divine,  kingdom,  on  earth,  all  the  dreams  of  winch  had  hitherto 
been  such  disastrous  failures.  He  would  thus  save  Judaism  from  itself, 
by  perpetuating  that  which  was  permanent  in  it,  under  His  holy  and 
spiritual  reign.  Discarding  all  that  was  merely  temporally  and  accidental, 
and  bringing  into  lasting  prominence  whatever  imperishable  truth  the 
older  dispensation  contained,  He  would  found  the  only  true  kingdom  of 
God  possiljle  on  earth :  one  in  wliich  the  perfect  holiness  of  the  Anointed 
Head  should  stimulate  a  like  holiness  in  all,  and,  indeed,  demand  it.  The 
Messianic  hope  was  to  be  realized  in  a  grander  and  loftier  sense  than  man 
had  dreamed,  bvit  the  very  grandeur  and  loftiness  of  the  realization  would 
attest  its  divine  authority  and  source. 

The  priests  among  the  Jews  had  been  divided,  since  the  time  of  David, 
that  is,  for  about  a  thousand  years,  into  twenty-four  courses,  known  also 
as  "  houses  "  and  "  families.''  Of  the  original  courses,  however,  only  four, 
each  numbering  about  a  thousand  members ,  had  returned  from  Babylon  after 
the  captivity ;  but  out  of  these  the  old  twenty-four  courses  were  recon- 
stituted, with  the  same  names  as  before,  that  the  original  organization 
might  be  perpetuated  as  far  as  possible.  The  priesthood  of  the  second 
Temple,  however,  never  took  the  same  rank  as  that  of  the  first.  The 
diminished  glory  of  the  sanctuary  in  which  it  ministered,  compared  with 
that  of  Solomon,  alone,  made  this  inevitable,  for  the  second  Temple  had  no 
longer  the  sacred  ark,  with  its  mercy  seat  and  the  overshadowing  cherubim 
nor  the  holy  fire,  kindled  at  first  from  heaven,  nor  the  mysterious  She- 
china,  or  Glory  of  God,  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  nor  the  tables  of  stone 
written  by  the  finger  of  God,  nor  the  ancient  Book  of  the  Law,  handed 
down  from  the  great  lawgiver,  Moses.  The  spirit  of  prophecy  was  no  longer 
granted ;  the  Urim  and  Thummim  no  longer  shone  out  mysterious  oracles 
from  the  breast  of  the  high  priest,  and  the  holy  anointing  oil,  that  had 
been  handed  do^vn,  as  the  Rabbis  taught,  from  the  days  of  Aaron,  had 
been  lost.  There  could  thus  be  no  consecration  of  the  high  priest,  or  his 
humbler  brethren,  by  tliat  symbol  which  above  all  others  had  been  most 
sacred — the  priestly  anointing.  The  priests  were  now  set  apart  to  their 
office  only  by  solemnly  clothing  them  with  their  official  robes,  though  the 
subordinate  acts  of  sacrifice  and  offering  were  no  doubt  continued.  The 
rise  of  the  Synagogue,  and  the  supreme  importance  attached  to  the  study 
of  the  Law,  tended  also  to  throw  the  office  of  the  priest  into  the  back- 
ground. In  the  centuries  after  the  Return,  the  Rabbi  became  the  fore- 
most figure  in  Jewish  histoi-y.  Yet  the  priest  was  a  necessary  appendage 
to  the  Temple,  and  even  the  traditions  of  the  past  lent  him  office  dignity. 

The  services  at  the  Temple  in  Jerusalem,  where  alone  sacrifices  could 
be  offered,  were  entrusted  to  the  care  of  each  course  in  rotation,  for  a  week 
of  six  days  and  two  Sabbaths,  and,  hence,  the  members  of  each,  Avhose 
ministrations  might  be  required,  had  to  go  up  to  Jerusalem  twice  a-year. 

As  the   office    was    hereditary,    the    number    of    the    priesthood  had 


56  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

become  very  great  in  the  days  of  our  Lord,  so  that,  according  to  the 
Talmud,  in  addition  to  those  who  lived  in  the  country,  and  came  up  to  take 
their  turn  in  the  Temple  services,  there  were  no  fewer  than  24,000  settled 
in  Jerusalem,  and  half  that  number  in  Jericho.  This,  however,  is  no 
doubt  an  exaggeration.  Josephus  is  more  likely  correct  in  estimating 
the  whole  number  at  somewhat  over  20,000.  But  even  this  was  an  enor- 
mous proportion  of  clergy  to  the  population  of  a  country  like  Judea,  as  the 
name  was  then  applied, — a  district  of  about  100  miles  in  length,  and  sixty 
in  breadth,  or  as  nearly  as  possible  of  the  same  number  of  square  miles 
as  Yorkshire.  They  must  have  been  a  more  familiar  sight  in  the  streets 
of  Jerusalem,  and  of  the  towns  and  villages,  than  the  seemingly  count- 
less ecclesiastics  in  the  towns  and  cities  of  Spain  or  Italy  at  this  time. 

The  social  position,  as  Avell  as  official  standing,  of  such  a  large  order 
necessarily  varied  greatly.  First  in  consideration,  after  the  high  priest 
came  his  acting  deputy,  or  assistant — the  Sagan — and  those  who  had  filled 
that  office,  and  the  heads  or  presidents  of  the  twenty-four  courses — collec- 
tively, the  "  high  priests,"  or  "  chief  priests,"  of  Josephus  and  the  New 
Testament ;  and  next,  the  large  body  of  officiating  priests,  the  counterpart 
of  our  working  clergy.  But  there  were,  besides,  large  numbers,  like  the 
lower  priests  of  Russia  or  Italy,  uneducated,  who  were  the  object  of  con- 
tempt, from  their  ignorance  of  the  Law,  in  the  Rabbinical  sense.  The 
countless  sacrifices  and  offerings,  with  the  multiplied  forms  to  be  observed 
in  connection  with  them,  which  were  settled  by  the  strictest  rules,  required 
a  knowledge  at  once  minute  and  extensive,  which  could  only  be  attained 
by  assiduous  and  long-continued  labour.  Hence,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
there  were  many  priests  who  knew  little  beyond  the  rites  in  which  they 
had  to  take  part.  The  priesthood  was  thus  divided  into  "  the  learned  " 
— or  those  who  knew  and  observed  the  countless  laws  of  ceremonial  clean- 
ness, and  the  endless  ritual  enforced — and  "  common  priests."  There 
were  others,  doubtless  in  large  numbers,  whom  some  physical  defect,  or 
other  cause,  disqualified  from  public  ministrations,  though  they  retained  a 
right  to  their  share  of  the  offerings. 

The  great  mass  of  the  order  must  have  been  poor  in  the  days  of  Christ, 
Avhich  were  certainly  in  no  way  higher  in  tone  than  those  of  Malachi,  when 
blind,  and  torn,  and  lame,  and  sick  beasts  were  offered  for  sacrifice,  so  that 
the  priest  as  well  as  the  altar  suffered ;  and  "  the  whole  nation  "  withheld 
their  tithes  and  offerings.  The  higher  ranks  of  the  priesthood — rich  and 
haughty — contributed  to  tlie  degradation  of  their  poorer  brethren,  whom 
they  des23ised,  oppressed,  and  plundered.  Nor  was  the  general  character 
of  the  priesthood  unaffected  by  the  corrviption  of  the  times  ;  as  a  class,  they 
were  blind  guides  of  the  blind.  Not  a  few,  however,  in  so  numerous  a 
body,  must  have  retained  more  or  less  religious  sensibility,  for  we  find  that 
many  even  of  the  members  of  the  Jerusalem  Council  were  so  alive  to  the 
corruption  of  the  hierarchy  at  large,  that  they  believed  on  Christ,  its  great 
antagonist,  and  a  large  number  of  priests,  shortly  after  His  crucifixion, 
openly  joined  His  disciples.  But  the  evil  was  deep-rooted  and  widely 
spread,  and  the  corruption  and  demoralization  of  the  order,  especially  in 
its  higher  ranks,  grew   more  and  more  complete.     The  high  society  of 


BIRTH    OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST.  57 

Jerusalem  was  mainly  comprised  in  a  circle  of  governing  priestly  families, 
and  tlieir  example  tainted  the  whole  priesthood. 

The  pride,   the   violence,   irreligion,   and  luxury  of  this   ecclesiastical 
aristocracy  already,  at  the  beginning  of  our  era,  pointed  to  the  excesses 
they  erelong  reached.     After  the  banishment  of  Archelaus,  in  the  early 
childhood  of  our  Lord,  the  government  became  an  aristocracy — the  high 
priests  virtually  ruling  the  nation — under  the  Romans.     Under  Herod  and 
his  son,  they  had  been  mere  puppets,  elevated  to  their  dignity  for  their 
proved  subserviency]  to  their  royal  masters.      Under  Agrippa  II.,  ladies 
bought   the   high   priesthood  for   their  husbands  for   so   much  money. 
Martha,  daughter   of   Bocthus,  one  of  these   simoniacs,  when   she  went 
to  see   her  husband,  spread   carpets  from  her  door  to  the  gate  of  the 
Temple.      The    high    priests   themselves   were  ashamed   of    their   most 
sacred  functions.     The  having  to  preside  over  the  sacrifices  was  thought 
by  some  so  repulsive  and  degrading,  that  they  wore  silk  gloves  when 
officiating,  to   keep   their  hands   from   touching  the  victims.     Given  to 
gluttony — the  special  vice  of  their  Roman  masters — they  also,  like  them, 
abandoned  themselves  to  luxury,  and  oppressed  the  poor,  to  obtain  the 
means  for  indulgence.     Thoroiighly  heathen  in  feeling,  they  courted  the 
favour  of  the  Romans,  who  repaid  them  by  rich  places  for  their  sons  ;  and 
they  openly  robbed  and  oppressed  the  poor  priests  suppoi'ted  by  the  people, 
going  the  length  of  violence  in  doing  so.     Josephus  tells  us  that  they  even 
sent  their  sei'vants  to  the  threshing-floors,  and  took  away  by  force  the 
tithes  that  belonged  to  the  priests,  beating  those  who  resisted,  and  that 
thus  not  a  few  poorer  priests  died  for  want. 

Yet  the  office  of  the  priest,  in  itself,  was  the  highest  in  Jewish  society, 
and  the  whole  order  formed  a  national  aristocracy,  however  poor  and 
degraded  many  of  its  members  might  be.  Every  priest  was  the  lineal 
descendant  of  a  priestly  ancestry  running  back  to  Aaron ;  and  as  the  wives 
of  the  order  were  generally  chosen  from  within  its  families,  this  lofty 
pedigree  in  many  cases  marked  both  parents. 

The  law  fixed  no  certain  age  at  which  the  young  priest  should  enter  on 
his  office,  though  the  Rabbis  maintain  that  he  needed  to  be  at  least  twenty, 
since  David  had  appointed  that  age  for  the  Levites.  As  in  corrupt  ages 
of  the  Church,  however,  this  wholesome  rule  was  not  always  observed,  for 
Josephiis  tells  us  that  Herod  made  Aristobulus  high  priest  when  he  was 
Beventeen,  and  we  read  of  common  priests  wliose  beards  wei'c  only  begin- 
ning to  grow. 

The  special  consecration  of  the  young  priest  began  while  he  was  yet  only 
a  lad.  As  soon  as  the  down  appeared  on  his  cheek  he  had  to  appear  before 
the  council  of  the  Temple,  that  his  genealogy  might  be  inspected.  If  it 
proved  faulty,  he  left  the  Temple  clad  in  black,  and  had  to  seek  another 
calling :  if  it  satisfied  the  council,  a  further  ordeal  awaited  him.  There 
were  140  bodily  defects,  any  one  of  which  would  incapacitate  him  from 
sacred  duties,  and  he  was  now  carefully  inspected  to  discover  if  ho  were 
free  from  them.  If  he  had  no  blemish  of  any  kind,  the  white  tunic  of  a 
priest  was  given  him,  and  he  began  his  official  life  in  its  humbler  duties, 
as  a  training  for  higher  responsibilities  in  after  years. 


58  THE    LIFE    0¥   CHRIST. 

Ordination,  oi-  rather  the  formal  consecration,  followed,  when  the  priest 
attained  the  legal  age.  For  this,  mnch  more  was  necessary,  in  theory, 
than  freedom  from  bodily  blemish.  The  candidate  must  be  of  blameless 
character,  though,  in  such  an  age,  this,  no  doubt,  was  little  considered. 

The  ceremony,  as  originally  prescribed,  was  imposing.  The  neophyte 
was  first  washed  before  the  sanctuaiy,  as  a  typical  cleansing,  and  then 
clothed  in  his  robe.  His  head  was  next  anointed  with  holy  oil,  and  then 
his  priestly  turban  was  put  on  him.  A  young  ox  was  now  slain  as  a  sin- 
offering,  the  priest  putting  his  hands  upon  its  head ;  then  a  ram  followed, 
as  a  whole  burnt  oiJering,  and  after  that,  a  second  ram  as  an  offering  of  con- 
secration, and  this  was  the  crowning  feature  in  the  rite.  Some  of  the  warm 
blood  of  the  victim  was  put  on  the  right  ear,  the  right  thumb,  and  the 
right  great  toe  of  the  candidate,  to  show  his  complete  consecration  to  the  ser- 
vice of  Jehovah.  He  was  then  spriidcled  with  the  blood  flowing  from  the 
altar,  and  with  the  holy  oil,  as  if  to  convey  to  him  their  purifying  virtues,  and 
transform  him  into  another  man.  This  sprinkling  was  the  sign  of  com- 
pleted consecration ;  he  was  now  a  priest.  The  pieces  of  the  ram  for  the 
altar,  with  the  meat-offering  that  accompanied  them,  were  jiut  into  his 
hands,  to  show  that  he  could,  henceforth,  himself  prepare  what  was  needed 
for  the  altar  services.  Having  laid  them  on  the  altar,  other  ceremonies 
followed.  The  pieces  of  the  sacrifice  usually  given  to  the  priest  were  con- 
sumed as  a  special  sin-offering,  and  with  their  burning  on  the  altar  the 
installation  into  office  ended.  The  first  day,  however,  did  not  close  the 
ceremonies.  The  same  sacrifices  offered  on  this  day  were  required  to  be 
repeated  on  each  of  the  seven  days  folloy>fing,  that  the  solemnity  of  the 
act  might  be  felt  by  all.  It  had  been  thus  in  the  early  and  glorious  days 
of  the  priesthood,  but  how  many  of  these  ceremonies  were  observed  under 
the  second  Temple  is  not  known. 

The  official  dress  of  a  priest,  like  that  of  the  priests  of  ancient  Egypt, 
was  of  white  linen.  On  his  head  he  wore  a  kind  of  turban  in  his  ministra- 
tions, reverence  demanding  that  he  should  not  enter  the  presence  of 
Jehovah  uncovered,  and  for  the  same  reason  his  feet  were  left  bare,  the 
ground  on  which  he  stood,  in  the  near  vision  of  the  Almighty,  being  holy. 
The  full  official  dress  was  worn  only  in  the  Temple,  and  was  kept  there  by 
a  special  guardian,  when  the  ininistrations  ended  for  the  time.  In  private 
life  a  simpler  dress  was  worn ;  but  whether  in  his  service  at  the  Temple 
or  at  his  house,  he  was  still  a  priest,  even  to  the  eye.  The  richly  orna. 
mented  dress  of  the  high  priest — the  "  golden  vestment,"  as  it  was  called 
by  the  Eabbis — was,  of  course,  much  more  costly  than  that  of  his  brethren, 
and  passed  down  from  one  high  priest  to  another.  It  marks  the  character 
of  the  times  that,  under  the  Romans,  it  was  kept  in  their  hands,  and  only 
given  out  to  the  high  priest,  for  use,  when  needed. 

The  duties  of  the  priests  were  many  and  various.  It  was  their  awful 
and  peculiar  honour  to  "  come  near  the  Lord.''  None  but  they  could 
minister  before  Him,  in  the  Holy  Place  where  He  manifested  His  presence : 
none  others  could  "  come  nigh  the  vessels  of  the  sanctuary  or  the  altar." 
It  was  death  for  any  one  not  a  priest  to  usurp  these  sacred  prerogatives, 
They  offered  the  morning  and  evening  incense ;  trimmed  the  lamps  of  the 


BIRTH   OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST.  59 

golden  candlestick,  and  filled  them  with  oil ;  set  out  the  shewbread  weeklj^ ; 
kept  up  the  fire  on  the  great  altar  in  front  of  the  Temple;  rem.OYed  the 
ashes  of  the  sacrifices  ;  took  part  in  the  slaying  and  cutting  up  of  victims, 
and  especially  in  the  sprinkling  of  their  blood;  and  laid  the  offerings  of 
all  kinds  on  the  altar.  They  also  announced  the  new  moons,  which  were 
sacred  days,  like  the  Sabbaths,  by  the  blowing  of  trumpets.  But  this  was 
a  small  part  of  their  duties.  They  had  to  examine  all  cases  of  ceremonial 
ancleanness,  especially  leprosy,  clearing  those  who  were  pure,  and  pro- 
nouncing others  unclean ;  to  estimate,  for  commutation,  the  value  of  the 
countless  offerings  vowed  to  the  Temple,  and  to  watch  the  interior  of  the 
Temple  by  night.  They  were  required,  moreover,  to  instruct  the  people 
in  the  niceties  of  the  Law,  and  to  give  decisions  on  many  points  reserved, 
among  us,  to  magistrates.  The  priests,  in  fact,  were,  within  certain  limits, 
the  judges  and  magistrates  of  the  land,  though  the  Sanhedrim,  which  was 
the  supreme  court  in  later  Jewish  history,  was  composed  of  chief  priests, 
laymen,  and  scribes,  or  Rabbis,  in  apparently  equal  numbers. 

It  was  necessary  that  an  officiating  priest  should  be  in  every  point 
ceremonially  "  clean  "  during  his  period  of  duty,  for  a  priest  who  was  not 
"  clean  "  covild  not  enter  the  Temj^le.  A  wise  law  prohibited  his  tasting 
wine  or  strong  drink  during  the  term  of  his  service.  The  demonstrations 
of  grief  common  to  the  nation  were  unlawful  in  him  ;  he  must  not  rend 
his  garments,  or  cut  himself,  or  shave  his  beard  or  head,  whatever  befell 
him  or  his.  Contact  with  the  dead  was  to  be  carefully  shunned  as  a 
defilement. 

The  same  ideal  purity,  as  of  one  holy  to  the  Lord,  marked  the  laws  of 
the  priest's  marriage,  for  he  could  only  marry  a  virghi,  or  a  widow  who 
had  not  been  divorced,  and  she  must  be  a  joure  Israelite  lawfully  born. 
The  daughters  of  priests  were  held  in  special  honour,  and  marriage  of 
priests  with  theiu  was  in  high  favour.  A  priest,  says  Josephus,  must 
marry  a  wife  of  his  own  nation,  without  having  any  regard  to  money,  or 
other  dignities ;  but  he  is  to  make  a  scrutiny,  and  take  his  wife's  genealogy 
from  the  ancient  records,  and  procure  many  witnesses  to  it,  iust  as  his 
own  had  been  carefully  tested  before  his  consecration.  An  order  thus 
guarded  by  countless  special  laws  must  have  been  as  sacred  in  the  eyes  of 
the  multitude  as  the  almost  similarly  exclusive  Brahmins  of  India. 
Josephus  could  make  no  boast  of  which  he  felt  so  proud  as  that  he 
belonged  to  such  a  sacerdotal  nobility. 

Thirteen  towns,  mostly  near  Jerusalem,  and  thus  affording  easy  access 
to  it,  when  their  duties  called  them  to  the  TemjDle,  were  assigned  to  the 
priests.  During  their  term  of  service  they  lived  in  rooms  in  the  Temple 
buildings,  but  they  came  there  alone,  leaving  their  households  behind  them. 

For  the  support  of  the  order,  provision  had  been  made  from  the  earliest 
times,  by  assigning  them  part  of  the  various  tithes  paid  by  the  people ; 
fees  for  the  redemption  of  the  first-born  of  man  or  beast,  and  in  commuta- 
tion of  vows,  and  what  may  be  called  the  perquisites  of  their  office— the 
shewbread,  heave-offerings,  parts  of  the  sacrifices,  the  first-fruits  of  corn, 
wine,  and  oil,  and  other  things  of  the  same  kind.  Officiating  priests  were 
thus  secured  in  moderate  comfort,  if  they  received  a  fair  proportion  of 


00  TJIJ']    LIFK    OF    CIllilST. 

thoir  duos,  and  the  wholo  order   Imd,  besides,  the   gi-oat  advantage  of 
fi'tHMloiu  I'roin  any  tax,  and  from  niilitnry  service. 

Aiiioiiti^  lli(>  incinltiM's  (>r  Miis  sacred  caste  luiiiislciiui^  in  (lie  'i"eiii|)l(>,  in 
\]\o  autuimi  (it  the  si\(ii  jcar  liel'iire  I, lint  willi  wlileli  (lie  ('hristian  erii,  as 
iMiuinonly  reckoni'd,  comnu^ncos,  was  one  wlin  iia<I  eoiue  up,  appareiil  1  y, 
I'l-oni  Hebron,  lie  was  now  an  cldcM'ly  man,  iiiiil  had  hit  beliind  him,  at 
home,  a  chihUess  wil'e  I^Ibsabeth  by  name  like  liiniseir,  advanced  in 
years.  'I'lie  two  weri>  in  tiie  ruUest  sense  "Isi-aebles  in(h'ed  :  "  tlieii' 
family  records  bad  established  their  common  descent  from  Aaron,  and  their 
lives  proved  th(>ir  lol'ly  realization  of  the  na-tit)nal  i'aitb,  for  "  tlioy  Aver(\ 
both,  righteous  bi'I'ore  (lod,  walking  in  all  the  commamlmenta  and  ordin- 
ances of  the  Lord  bhuneh^ss." 

lint,  notwithstaiuling  all  the  satisfaction  and  inward  ])eaoo  of  innocent 
and  godly  lives,  in  spite  ol'  the  natural  pride  tlu>3',  donbtles.s,  felt  in  tlio 
consitleration  that  must  have  been  shown  IIumu,  as  born  of  a  jiriestly 
ancestry,  strotcliing  back  through  fifteen  bnndri'd  years,  and  though  th(>y 
must  have  had  around  theni  the  coml'orts  of  a  nuulest  compel  ency,  there 
was  a  secret  griel'  in  the  heart  of  both,  iilisabeth  had  no  child,  and  what 
this  meant  to  a  Ifebrew  wife  it  is  hard  for  ns  to  fancy.  Rachel's  Avords, 
"(Jive  me  cliildr(Mi,  or  elso  I  die,"  were  the  biinlen  of  every  childless 
woman's  heart  in  Israel.  The  birth  of  a  child  was  the  removal  of  a 
r(>pr(KU'li.  Hannah's  i)rayer  for  a  son  was  that  of  all  Jewish  wives  in  the 
same  position.  'I'o  have  no  child  was  regai'ded  as  a  heavy  punishment 
from  the  hand  of  (.'od.  Ifow  bitter  the  thought  that  his  name  should 
piM-ish  was  for  a^  Jew  to  i)ear,  is  seen  in  the  law  Avhich  required  that  a 
childless  widow  should  be,  forthwith,  mai'ried  by  a  dead  husband's  bi'other, 
that  children  might  be  raised  up  to  preserve  the  nuMuory  of  th(>  childless 
man,  by  being  accounted  his.  Nor  was  it  enough  that  one  brother  of  a 
nnnd)er  acted  thus :  in  the  imaginary  instance  given  by  the  Sadducees  to 
our  Lord,  seven  brothers,  in  succession,  look  a  dead  brother's  wife  for 
this  object.  The  birth  of  a  child  was  tluMvfore  a.  spcH'ial  blessing,  as  a 
security  that  the  name  of  his  father  "should  not  be  cut  oif  from  anumg 
his  brethren,  and  from  the  gate  of  his  phu^e,"  and  that  it  should  not  be 
"put  out  of  Israel."  Ancient  nations,  generally,  seem  to  have  luid  this 
fiH'ling.  and  it  is  still  so  strong  among  Orientals,  that  after  the  biitb  of 
a  lirst-b(n"n  son,  a  father  and  a  mother  are  no  h)uger  known  by  their  own 
names,  but  as  the  father  and  mother  of  the  child.  There  was,  besides,  a 
higher  thought  of  possible  relations,  however  distant,  to  the  great 
expected  Messiah,  by  the  birth  of  children;  but  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth 
had  reason  enough  to  sorrow  at  their  childless  home,  even  on  the  humbler 
ground  of  natural  sentiments.  They  had  grieved  over  their  nnsfortune, 
and  had  nuido  it  the  burden  of  many  prayers  ;  but  years  passed,  and  they 
had  both  grown  elderly,  and  yet  no  child  had  been  vouchsafed  them. 

The  autumn  service  of  the  course  of  AI)ia  had  taken  Zacharias  to 
Jerusalem,  and  his  week  of  Temple  duty  was  ])assing.  As  a  nunistcMang 
priest  he  had  a  chamber  in  the  cloisters  that  ran  along  the  sidc^s  of  the 
outer  Temple  court.  His  office  took  him  day  by  day,  in  his  white  ollicial 
vobcs,  totlie  feurtli  and  inmost  space,  immediately  beside  the  sanctr.ary 


]  IllTII   OF   JOHN   THE   BAPTIST.  61 

itself,  a  part  into  wliicli  none  could  enter  but  priests  wearing  their  sacred 
garments.  This  court  rose  above  three  other  spaces,  all,  in  succession, 
lower — the  court  of  the  men,  that  of  the  women,  and  that  of  foreigners 
who  had  become  .Jews — each,  separated  from  the  other  by  marble  walls 
or  balustrades,  and  approached  only  by  great  gates,  famous  throughout  the 
world  for  their  magnificence.  Above,  in  the  central  space,  stood  the 
sanctuary,  springing  from  a  level  fifteen  steps  higher  than  the  court  of 
the  Israelites,  next,  below  it,  and  thus  visible  from  all  parts,  as  the  crown 
and  glory  of  the  whole  terraced  structure.  It  was  built  of  blocks  of  fine 
white  marble,  each  about  37  feet  in  length,  12  in  height,  and  18  in  breadth, 
the  courses  which  formed  the  foundations  measuring,  in  some  cases,  the 
Ftill  huger  size  of  70  feet  in  length,  9  in  width,  and  8  in  height.  The 
whole  area  enclosed  within  the  Temple  bounds  formed  a  square  of  600  or 
900  feet,  and  over  the  highest  level  of  this  rose  the  gilded  walls  of  the 
Banctuary,  a  Vjuilding,  perhaps,  about  150  feet  long  by  90  broad,  with  two 
wings  or  shoulders  of  '30  feet  each,  on  a  line  with  the  facade,  the  whole 
surmounted  by  a  roof  glittering  with  gilded  spikes,  to  prevent  pollution 
from  above  by  unclean  birds  alighting  on  it. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  the  natural  surface  of  the  hill  on  which 
these  amazing  structures  were  built  was  altogether  too  contracted  and 
Bteep  to  supply  the  level  space  needed,  the  grandeur  of  the  architecture  as 
a  whole  will  be  even  more  apparent.  The  plateau  of  the  successive  courts 
was  only  secured  by  building  up  a  Avail  from  the  valley  beneath,  to  the 
height  required,  and  this,  on  the  south  side,  required  a  solid  mass  of 
masonry  about  600  feet  in  length,  and  almost  equal  in  height  to  the  tallest 
of  our  church  spires,  while  on  the  top  of  an  erection  so  unequalled,  rose 
the  magnificent  Royal  Porch,  a  building  longer  and  higher  than  York 
Cathedral.  No  wonder  Josephus  calls  such  a  wall  "the  most  prodigious 
work  ever  heard  of,"  nor  that  its  surpassing  magnificence,  in  these  yeai's, 
when  its  dazzling  whiteness  shone  fresh  from  the  masons'  hands,  should 
have  gone  abroad  to  all  countries. 

The  sanctuary  itself  was  divided  into  tAvo  unequal  parts ^the  Holy  and 
the  Holy  of  Holies.  Before  the  porch  stood  the  great  altar  for  burnt 
offerings,  with  rows  of  rings, — to  which  the  beasts  for  sacrifice  were  tied, 
— sunk  in  the  pavement,  near, — while  a  line  of  cedar  beams,  resting  on 
eight  low  pillars,  gave  the  priests  the  means  of  hanging  up  the  slaughtered 
victims,  to  dress  them  for  the  altar.  The  Holy  of  Holies,  the  inmost 
division  of  the  sanctuary,  was  left  an  awful  solitude  throughout  the  year, 
except  on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement,  on  which  the  high  priest  entered  it 
alone.  In  the  Temple  standing  in  Christ's  day  it  was  entirely  empty, 
unless,  indeed,  the  tradition  of  the  Mischna  be  correct,  that  a  stone  stood 
in  it,  instead  of  the  long-lost  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  as  a  spot  on  which  the 
high  priest  could  rest  his  censer.  Great  gates,  plated  with  gold,  shut  in 
this  awful  cliamber,  and  a  thick  veil  of  Babylonian  tapestry,  in  Avhich  blue 
and  scarlet  and  purple  were  woven  into  a  fabric  of  matchless  beauty  and 
enormous  value — the  veil  that  was  afterwards  rent  in  twain  at  the  time  of 
the  crucifixion  —  hung  before  it,  dividing  it  from  the  Holy  Place,  and 
shutting  out  all  light  from  its  mysterious  depths. 


62  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

The  entrance  to  tlie  Holy  Place  was  by  two  doors,  of  vast  height  and 
breadth,  covered  with  plates  of  gold,  as  was  the  whole  front  on  each  side 
of  them,  over  a  breadth  of  thirty  feet,  and  a  height  of  fully  a  hundred  and 
thirty.  The  upper  part,  over  the  gates,  which  remained  always  open,  was 
covered  by  an  ornamentation  of  great  golden  vines,  from  which  hung 
clusters  of  grapes  the  length  of  a  man's  stature.  No  wonder  Josephus 
adds  that  such  a  front  wanted  nothing  that  could  give  an  idea  of  splen- 
dour, since  the  plates  of  gold,  of  great  weight,  as  he  adds,  reflected  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  with  a  dazzling  brightness,  from  which  the  eyes 
turned  away  overpowered.  When  the  gates  of  the  Holy  Place  were 
opened,  all  was  seen  as  far  as  the  inner  veil,  and  all  glittered  with  a 
surface  of  beaten  gold. 

In  the  Holy  Place  stood  only  three  things :  the  golden  candlestick  with 
its  seven  lamps,  in  allusion  to  the  seven  planets  ;  the  table  of  shewbread ; 
and  between  them,  the  altar  of  incense.  In  the  entrance,  which  was 
merely  the  open  fore-half  of  the  sanctuary,  and,  like  the  rest  of  the  front, 
was  covered  with  plates  of  gold,  stood  two  tables,  one  of  marble,  the  other 
of  gold,  on  which  the  priests,  at  their  entering  or  coming  out  of  the  Holy 
Place,  laid  the  old  shewbread  and  the  new.  Before  the  entrance,  in  the 
court  of  the  priests,  stood  the  great  altar  of  burnt  offering,  of  unhewn 
stone,  which  no  tool  had  touched,  and  the  brazen  laver,  in  which  the 
priests  washed  their  hands  and  feet  before  beginning  their  ministrations. 

"  In  the  morning,"  says  Josephus, "  at  the  opening  of  the  inner  temple," 
that  is,  of  the  court  of  the  priests,  "  those  who  are  to  officiate,  receive  the 
sacrifices,  as  they  do  again  at  noon.  It  is  not  lawful  to  carry  any  vessel 
into  the  holy  house.  When  the  days  are  over  in  which  a  course  of  priests 
officiates,  other  priests  succeed  in  the  performance  of  the  sacrifices,  and 
assemble  together  at  mid-day  and  receive  the  keys  of  the  Temple,  and  the 
vessels."  Among  the  various  priestly  duties  none  was  of  such  esteem  as 
the  offering  of  incense.  The  heat  of  eastern  and  southern  countries,  by 
its  unpleasant  physical  effects,  doubtless  first  led  to  the  practice  of  burn- 
ing odorous  substances,  though  luxury  and  mere  indulgence  soon  adopted 
it.  Ultimately,  not  only  chambers,  clothes,  and  furniture  were  thus  per- 
fumed, but  the  beards  and  whole  persons  of  guests,  in  great  houses,  at 
their  coming  and  leaving.  Burning  censers  were  waved  before  princes, 
and  altars,  on  which  incense  was  burned,  were  raised  before  them  in  the 
streets,  when  they  entered  towns  or  cities.  Thus  esteemed  a  mark  of  the 
highest  honour,  the  custom  was  early  transferred  to  religious  worship,  in 
the  belief  that  the  Deity  delighted  in  the  odours  thus  offered.  Hence  it 
became  a  part  of  the  recognised  worship  of  Jehovah,  the  Mosaic  law  re- 
quiring incense  to  be  burnt  on  the  altar  with  many  offerings.  A  daily 
incense  offering  morning  and  evening,  on  a  special  altar,  in  the  Holy 
Place,  at  the  times  of  trimming  and  kindling  the  sacred  lamps,  was  also 
ordained,  and  another  yearly,  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  by  the  high  priest,  on 
the  great  Day  of  Atonement. 

The  daily  incense  offering  required  the  ministration  of  two  priests,  one 
of  whom  bore  the  incense  in  a  special  vessel ;  the  other,  glowing  embers 
in  a  golden  fire-pan,  from  the  altar  of  burnt  sacrifice  before  the  entrance 
of  the  Holy  Place,  and  these  he  spread  on    an  altar  within.      The  fi.rst 


EIRTn    OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST.  63 

priest  then  sprinkled  tbe  incense  on  the  Ijurning  coals,  an  office  held  so 
honourable  that  no  one  was  allowed  to  perform  it  twice,  since  it  brought 
the  offering  priest  nearer  the  Divine  Pi-esence  in  the  Holy  of  Holies  than 
any  other  priestly  act,  and  carried  with  it  the  richest  blessing  from  on 
high,  which  all  ought  to  have  a  chance  of  thus  obtaining.  Like  the  rest 
of  the  sacred  functions,  it  was  determined  daily  by  lot. 

During  the  burning  of  the  incense,  each  morning  and  night,  the 
worshipjiers  in  the  different  courts  remained  in  silent  prayer,  their  faces 
towards  the  holy  spot  where  the  .symbol  of  their  devotions  was  ascending 
in  fragrant  clouds  towards  heaven  :  their  fondest  hope  being  that  their 
prayer  might  rise  up,  odorous  and  well-pleasing  like  it,  towards  Jehovah, 
While  the  priests  entered,  morning  and  evening,  into  the  Holy  Place,  with 
its  seven  lamps  burning  night  and  day  for  ever,  the  memento  of  the  awful 
presence  in  the  pillar  of  fire  that  had  guarded  them  of  old,  and  its  table 
of  "  continual  bread  "  of  the  presence — a  male  lamb,  with  the  due  fruit 
and  drink-offering  connected  with  such  a  sacrifice,  was  ready  to  be  offered 
on  the  great  altar  of  burnt  offering  outside.  The  atoning  sacrifice,  and 
the  clouds  of  incense,  the  outward  symbol  of  the  prayers  of  the  people, 
were  thus  indissolubly  associated,  and  so  holy  were  they  in  all  eyes,  that 
the  hours  sacred  to  them  were  known  as  those  of  the  morning  and  the 
evening  sacrifice.  They  served,  still  further,  to  set  a  time,  throughout 
the  Jewish  world,  for  the  morning  and  evening  prayers  of  all  Israel,  and 
thus,  when  the  priest  stood  by  the  incense  altar,  and  the  flame  of  the  burnt 
offei'ing,  outside,  ascended,  the  prayers  offered  in  the  Temple  courts  were 
repeated  all  over  the  land,  and  even  in  every  region,  however  distant,  to 
wliich  a  godly  Jew  had  wandered. 

On  the  day  when  our  narrative  opens,  the  lot  for  the  daily  incense  offer- 
ing had  fallen  on  Zacharias.  In  his  white  sacerdotal  robes,  with  covered 
head  and  naked  feet,  at  the  tinkling  of  the  bell  which  announced  that  the 
morning  or  evening  sacrifice  was  about  to  be  laid  on  the  great  altar, 
he  entered  the  Holy  Place,  that  the  clouds  of  incense,  which  symbolized 
Israel's  prayers,  might  herald  the  way  for  the  smoke  of  the  victim  pre- 
sently to  be  burned  in  their  stead.  In  a  place  so  sacred,  separated  only 
by  a  veil  from  the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  awful  presence  chamber  of  the 
Almighty — a  place  where  God  had  already  shown  that  He  was  near,  by 
human  words  to  the  oSiciating  priest — at  a  moment  so  solemn,  when 
it  had  fallen  to  him  to  enjoy  an  awful  honour  which  most  of  his  brethren 
could  not  expect  to  obtain,  and  which  could  never  be  repeated,  he  must 
have  been  well-nigh  overpowered  with  emotion.  At  the  tinkling  of  the 
bell  all  the  priests  and  Lcvites  took  their  stations  through  the  Temple 
courts,  and  he  and  liis  helper  began  their  ministrations. 

And  now  the  coals  arc  laid  on  the  altar,  the  helping  priest  retires,  and 
Zacharias  is  left  alone  with  the  mysterious,  ever-burning  lamps,  and  the 
glow  of  the  altar  which  was  believed  to  have  been  kindled,  at  first,  from 
the  pillar  of  fire  in  the  desert,  and  to  have  been  kept  unquenched,  by 
miracle,  since  then.  He  pours  the  incense  on  the  flames,  and  its  fragrance 
rises  in  clouds,  which  are  the  symbol  of  the  prayers  of  Israel,  now  rising 


G4  THE    LIFE    GF   CHRIST. 

over  all  the  earth.     As  the  intercessor  for  his  people,  for  the  time,  he,  too, 
joins  his  supplications. 

We  need  not  question  what  the  burden  of  that  prayer  must  have  been, 
with  one,  who,  like  him,  "  waited  for  the  Consolation  of  Israel,"  and 
"  looked  for  Eedemption."  It  was,  doubtless,  that  the  sins  of  the  nation, 
his  own  sins,  and  the  sins  of  his  household,  might  be  forgiven ;  that 
Jehovah  would  accept  the  atonement  of  the  lamb  presently  to  burn  on  the 
great  altar  in  their  stead ;  and  that  the  long-expected  Hope  of  Israel,  the 
Messiah  foretold  by  prophets,  might  soon  appear. 

While  he  prays,  there  stands  a  mysterious  Presence  before  him,  on  the 
right  side  of  the  altar,  the  side  of  good  omen,  as  the  angels,  afterwards, 
appeared  at  the  right  side,  in  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  as  Christ  was  seen, 
Ijy  the  martyr  Stephen,  standing  on  the  Right  Hand  of  God.  No  wonder 
he  was  alarmed  at  such  a  sight,  in  such  a  place.  Fear  of  the  supernatural 
is  instinctive.  In  the  history  of  his  own  nation,  which  Zacharias,  like 
every  Jew,  knew  so  well,  Jacob  had  held  it  a  wonder  that  he  had,  as  he 
believed,  seen  God  face  to  face,  and  that  his  life  was  preserved;  Jehovah 
Himself  had  hidden  Moses  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock,  that  he  might  see  the 
divine  glory  only  after  it  had  passed  by,  "  For  no  man,"  He  had  said, 
"  shall  see  Me  and  live."  The  stout-hearted  Gideon  had  trembled  at  the 
sight  of  an  angel ;  Manoah  had  expected  to  die  after  a  similar  vision ; 
and  when  Daniel  saw  the  very  angel  now  before  Zacharias  "  there  re- 
mained no  strength  in  him." 

But  Gabriel  had  come  on  a  mission  befitting  the  world  from  which  he 
had  Ijeen  sent.  The  hour  had  arrived  when  the  prayer  which  Zacharias, 
and  those  like  him,  had  so  long  raised,  shou.ld  be  heard.  The  Messiah 
was  about  to  be  revealed,  and  the  faithful  priest  who  had  so  longed  for 
His  appearing  would  be  honoured  by  a  relationship  to  Him.  He  had  for 
many  a  year  desired  a  son :  not  only  would  his  wish  be  granted,  at  last, 
but  the  sou  to  be  born  would  be  the  prophet,  long  announced,  to  go  before 
the  Expected  One,  to  prepare  His  way.  He  need  not  fear  :  he  who  speaks 
is  Gabriel,  the  archangel,  who  stands  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  as  one 
who  thus  always  beholds  the  face  of  the  Great  Father  in  heaven,  he  has 
a  tender  love  to  His  children  on  earth.  Had  Zacharias  thought  how  the 
skies  rejoice  at  a  sinner's  repenting ;  how  the  angels  are  always  near  us 
when  we  pray ;  how  they  bear  our  prayers  into  the  presence  of  God ; 
and  how,  at  last,  they  guide  the  souls  of  the  just  to  everlasting  joy ;  he 
would  have  rejoiced  even  while  he  trembled. 

But  the  heart  is  slow  to  receive  the  access  of  any  sudden  joy,  and  to  lay 
aside  disappointment.  Tlie  tbought  rises  in  the  heart  of  Zacharias  that 
the  glad  tidings  of  the  birth  of  the  Messiah  may  well  be  true  ;  but,  as  to 
the  son  promised  to  his  wife,  stricken  in  years  as  she  now  is,  can  it  be 
possible  ?  A  sudden  dumbness,  imposed  at  the  angel's  word,  at  once 
rebukes  his  doubt,  and  confirms  his  faith. 

Meanwhile,  the  multitude,  without,  wondered  at  the  delay  in  his  re- 
appearance, to  bless  and  dismiss  them.  The  priest's  coming  out  of  the 
sanctuary  was  the  signal  for  the  lamb  being  laid  on  the  altar,  and  was  a 


LIRTH   OF   JOHN    THE    BAPTIST.  C5 

moment  of  passing  interest  in  Jcv^'isli  worsliip.  A  passage  in  that  noble 
relic  of  pre-Christian  Jewish  literature,  Ecclesiasticns,  respecting  the 
great  patriot  high  priest,  Simon  the  Just,  brings  a  similar  scene,  though 
on  a  far  grander  scale,  on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement,  vividly  before  us. 
The  crowds  now  around  marked  some  other  than  a  common  day,  and  we 
need  only  tone  down  the  picture  to  suit  it  to  the  present  case ;  for 
Zacharias,  as  a  faithful  priest,  engaged  on  such  a  service,  was,  for  the 
time,  an  object  of  almost  sacred  reverence. 

"  How  glorious  was  he,"  says  the  Son  of  Sirach,  "  before  the  multitude 
o£  the  people,  in  his  coming  forth  from  within  the  veil !  He  was  as  the 
morning  star  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud,  and  as  the  moon  when  its  days  are 
full ;  as  the  sun  shining  upon  the  temple  of  the  Most  High,  and  as  the 
rainbow  that  glitters  on  the  bright  clouds,  and  as  the  flower  of  roses 
in  the  spring  of  the  year ;  as  lilies  bj'  the  rivers  of  waters,  and  as  the 
branches  of  the  frankincense  tree  in  the  time  of  summer.     .     .     . 

"  AVhen  he  put  on  the  robes  of  state,  and  was  arrayed  in  all  his  orna- 
ments, when  he  w^cnt  up  to  the  holy  altar,  he  adorned  the  fore-coui't  of  the 
Sanctuary.  But  when  he  received  the  pieces  of  the  sacrifice  from  the 
hands  of  the  priests,  and  stood  at  the  side  of  the  altar,  a  crown  of  brethren 
round  him,  then  was  he  like  the  young  cedar  on  Lebanon,  and  they  were 
round  him  like  palm-trees,  and  all  the  sons  of  Aaron  were  in  their  splendid 
robes,  and  the  gifts  for  the  Lord  in  their  hands,  from  the  whole  congre- 
gation of  Israel.  And,  when  he  had  finished  the  service  at  the  altars, 
that  he  might  do  honour  to  the  offering  of  the  Most  High,  Almighty,  he 
stretched  forth  his  hand  over  the  sacrifice,  and  poured  out  the  blood  of 
grapes  ;  he  poured  it  out  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  as  a  sweet-smelling 
savour  unto  the  Most  High,  the  King  of  all.  Then  shouted  the  sons  of 
Aaron ;  with  the  silver  trumpets  of  wondrous  jvorkmanship  did  they 
sound,  and  made  a  great  noise  to  be  heard,  for  a  remembrance  before  the 
Most  High.  Then  all  the  people,  together,  hasted,  and  fell  down  to  the 
earth,  upon  their  faces,  to  worship  God,  the  Lord  Almighty,  the  Most 
High.  The  singers  also  sang  praises  with  their  voices;  with  great  variety 
of  sounds  was  there  made  sweet  melody.  And  the  people  besought  the 
Lord,  the  Most  High,  by  jjrayer  before  Him  that  is  merciful,  till  the 
glorious  exalting  of  the  Lord  was  ended,  and  His  worship  was  finished. 

*'  Then  he  came  down,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  over  the  whole  congrega- 
tion of  the  children  of  Israel,  to  give  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  with  his 
lips,  aiad  to  glorify  His  name.  And  they  bowed  themselves  down  to 
worship  the  second  time,  that  they  might  receive  a  blessing  from  the 
Most  High." 

Fear  lest  any  calamity  might  have  befallen  Zacharias  added  to  the 
rising  excitement.  He  might  have  been  ceremonially  unclean,  and  the 
divine  anger  at  the  Holy  Place  being  thus  polluted,  might  have  struck 
him  down.  The  offering  priest  never  reinained  longer  than  was  necessary 
in  so  august  a  Presence.  His  appearance,  at  last,  however,  explained  all. 
They  could  receive  no  blessing  that  day,  and  Zacharias  could  no  longer 
minister  in  his  course,  for  he  was  speechless  ;  all  he  could  do  was  to  tell 
them  by  signs  what  had  happened.     Had  they  known  it,  his  silence  for 


6'6  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

the  time  was  but  the  prelude  to  the  lastuig  silence  o^  the^  Law,  of  which 
he  was  a  minister,  now  that  Christ  was  about  to  come. 

Having  no  niore  to  detain  him  at  Jerusalem,  Zacharias  returned  home, 
we  presume,  to  Hebron.  His  journey,  if  it  was  in  October,  as  seems 
likely,  would  lead  him  through  the  cheerful  scenes  of  the  grape  harvest — 
a  great  event,  even  yet,  in  the  Hebron  district.  Had  it  been  in  April,  at 
the  "spring  service,  the  stony  hills,  and  deep  red  or  yellov/  soil  of  the 
valleys  through  which  he  had  to  pass,  would  have  been  ablaze  with  bright 
colours ;  shrubs,  grass,  gay  weeds,  and  wild-ilowers,  over  all  the  uplands, 
and  thickets,  of  varied  blossom,  sprinkled  with  sheets  of  white  briar  roses, 
in  the  hollows  ;  the  beautiful  cyclamen  peeping  from  under  the  gnarled 
roots  of  great  trees,  and  from  amidst  the  roadside  stones.  Towns  of  stone 
houses,  of  which  the  ruins  still  remain,  rose.  Hat-roofed,  from  the  hill- 
sides, or  from  their  tops,  in  sight  of  each  other,  all  the  way.  Fields  with 
stone  walls,  now,  in  the  autumn,  lay  idle  after  the  harvest,  or  were  being 
re-sown ;  but  the  vineyards,  which  spread  far  and  wide,  over  valley  and 
sloping  height,  resounded  with  voices,  for  the  houses  were  well-nigh 
forsaken  to  gather  the  ripe  grapes.  Somewhere  in  Hebron,  in  its  cradle 
of  hills,  three  thousand  feet  above  the  neighbouring  Mediterranean,  lay 
the  home  of  Zacharias,  and  there,  some  time  in  the  next  year,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  promise  of  the  angel,  Elisabeth  bore  a  son — the  future 
Baptist ;  and  Zacharias  received  back  his  speech,  on  the  glad  day  of  the 
child  getting  its  name, — -the  eighth  after  its  birth, — the  day  of  its 
admission  into  the  congregation  of  Israel  by  circumcision. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 

THE   ANNOUNCEMENT   10   JIAKY. 

"TTTHILE  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth  were  rejoicing  at  their  promised 
'  '  blessing,  in  their  quiet  home  in  the  south,  there  lived  in  the  village 
of  IlTazareth  or  Nazara,  over  a  hundred  miles  to  the  north  of  them,  a  Jew 
of  the  name  of  Joseph,  and  a  simple  maiden  named  Mary,  who  was  be- 
trothed to  him  as  his  future  wife.  Though  humble  enough  in  position — • 
for  he  was  by  trade  a  carpenter — ^Joseph  was,  in  reality,  of  the  noblest 
blood  of  his  race,  for  he  could  claim  descent  from  the  ancient  kings  of  his 
nation,  and  was  the  legal  heir  to  tlie  throne  of  David  and  Solomon. 

It  need  nob  surprise  us  that  the  representative  of  such  an  illustrious 
ancestry  should  be  found  in  a  station  so  obscure.  In  the  Book  of 
Judges,  we  find  a  grandson  of  Moses  reduced  to  engage  himself  as  family 
priest,  in  Mount  Ephraim,  for  a  yearly  wage  often  shekels,  a  suit  of 
apparel,  and  his  victuals."  At  the  present  day,  the  green  tui'bau  Avhich 
marks  descent  from  Mahomet  is  often  worn  in  the  East  by  the  very  poor, 
and  even  by  beggars.  In  our  own  history,  the  glory  of  the  once  illustrious 
Plantagenets  so  completely  waned,  that  the  direct  representative  of 
Margaret  Plantagenet,  daughter  and  heiress  of  George  Duke  of  Clarence, 
followed  the  trade  of     cobbler  in  ISTewporfc,  Sliropshirc,  in  1037.     Amono' 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT    TO    MARY.  67 

the  lineal  descendants  of  Edmund  of  Woodstock,  sixtli  son  of  Ed'5\'ard  I., 
and  entitled  to  quarter  the  royal  arms,  wore  a  village  butcher,  and  a 
keeper  of  a  turnpike  gate,  and  among  the  descendants  of  Thomas  Planta- 
genet,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  fifth  son  of  Edward  III.,  was  included  the  late 
sexton  of  a  London  church.  The  vicissitudes  of  the  Jewish  nation  for 
century  after  century ;  its  deportation  to  Babylon,  and  long  suspension  of 
national  life ;  its  succession  of  high-priestly  rulers,  after  the  return ;  its 
transition  to  the  Asmonean  line,  and,  finally,  the  reign  of  the  Idumcan 
house  of  Herod,  with  all  the  storm  and  turmoil  which  marked  so  many 
changes,  had  left,  to  use  the  figure  of  Isaiah,  only  a  root  in  a  dry  ground, 
a  humble  citizen  of  Nazareth,  as  the  heir  of  its  ancient  roj'alty. 

In  the  same  city  lived  a  family,  Avhich,  like  that  of  Joseph,  seems  to  have 
been  long  settled  there.  The  names  of  the  parents  we  do  not  know,  but 
they  had  three  daughters,  one  of  whom,  Mary,  was  betrothed  to  Joseph. 
The  relation  thus  created  was  familiar  to  oiir  own  ancestors  as  late  as  the 
time  of  Shakespere,  and  was  equivalent  to  a  civil  contract  of  marriage, 
to  be  duly  followed  by  the  religious  rite.  Among  the  Jews  of  Mary's  day, 
it  was  even  more  of  an  actual  engagement.  The  betrothal  was  formally 
made,  with  rejoicings,  in  the  house  of  the  bride,  under  a  tent  or  slight 
canopy  raised  for  the  purpose.  It  was  called  the  "making  sacred,"  as 
the  bride,  thenceforth,  was  sacred  to  her  husband,  in  the  strictest  sense. 
To  make  it  legal,  the  bridegroom  gave  his  betrothed  a  piece  of  money,  or 
the  worth  of  it,  before  witnesses,  with  the  words,  "  Lo,  thou  art  betrothed 
unto  me,"  or  by  a  formal  writing,  in  which  similar  words,  and  the  maiden's 
name,  were  given,  and  this,  in  tlie  same  way,  was  handed  to  her  before 
witnesses.  Betrothals  were  commonly  arranged  by  the  fathers,  or  in  case 
of  their  being  dead,  by  the  mothers,  or  guardians,  and  the  consent  of  any 
brothers  the  maiden  might  have  was  required.  In  the  earlier  ages,  verbal 
agreements,  sometimes  confirmed  by  oath,  before  witnesses,  were  most  in 
use,  but  after  the  Return,  written  forms  became  the  rule. 

Though  boti'othal  was  virtually  marriage,  and  conld  only  be  broken  off 
by  a  formal  "  bill  of  divorcement,"  the  betrothed  did  not  at  once  go  to  her 
husband's  house.  To  give  her  time  for  preparation,  and  to  soften  the  pain  of 
parting  from  her  friends,  or,  perhaps,  in  part,  to  let  thfem  get  a  longer  benefit 
of  her  household  services,  an  interval  elapsed  before  the  final  ceremony ; 
it  migiit  be  so  many  weeks,  or  months,  or  even  a  whole  year. 

It  was  now  the  sixth  month  from  the  appearance  of  Gabriel  to  Zachaaris, 
and  Mary's  time  of  betrothal  was  passing  quickly  away  in  her  family  home 
at  Nazareth.  The  future  Herald  Iiad  been  pointed  out,  and  now  the  advent 
of  the  Messiah  Himself  vfas  to  be  announced,  as  silently,  and  with  as  little 
notice  from  men ;  for  Christ,  like  the  sun,  rose  in  noiseless  stillness. 

A  heart  like  that  of  Mary,  full  of  religious  thoughtfulness  and  emotion, 
must  have  been  doubly  earnest  in  the  daily  devotions  which  no  Jew  or 
Jewess  neglected.  Like  all  her  people,  the  time  of  the  morning  offering, 
the  hour  of  noon,  and  the  time  of  the  evening  sacrifice,  would  find  her  in 
her  private  chamber  in  lowly  prayer.  At  some  such  moment,  the  great 
event  took  place  of  which  the  narrative  of  St.  Luke  informs  us. 

In  the  sixth  month,  we  are  told,  after  the  visit  to  Zacharias,  Gabriel 


68  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

was  sent  from  God  to  Mary,  and  having  entered  her  chamljcr,  -vvhcrc  the 
presence  of  a  man  must  have  been  startling  at  any  time,  bnt  then  especially, 
— stood  before  her  with  the  usual  salutation,  to  wliich  he  added  the 
mysterious  words,  that  she  was  highly  favoured,  and  that  the  Lord  was 
Avith  her.  ISTaturally' troubled  by  such  an  interruption  and  such  words, 
she  shows  a  characteristic  of  her  calm,  self-collected  nature  in  being  able 
to  think  and  reason,  as  if  undisturbed,  what  the  salutation  might  mean. 
Whatever  fear  she  has,  speedily  passes,  before  the  soothing  words  of  her 
visitor.  He  bids  her  lay  aside  her  alarm ;  he  has  come  to  tell  her  that 
she  has  found  favour,  above  all  other  women,  with  God,  by  being  chosen 
as  the  future  mother  of  the  long-expected  Messiah,  who  was  to  have  the 
name  of  Jesus.  "The  Holy  Gliost,"  he  says,  "shall  come  upon  thee,  and 
the  power  of  the  Highest  shall  overshadow  thee ;  therefore  thy  son  shall 
be  called  the  Son  of  God ;  and  the  Lord  God  shall  give  unto  Him  the 
throne  of  His  father  David ;  and  He  shall  reign  over  the  house  of 
Jacob  for  ever ;  and  of  His  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end."  It  would 
have  been  no  more  than  human  weakness,  if  doubts  had  risen  at  siicli  an 
announcement,  but  these  he  sets  to  rest,  if  they  were  springing,  by  telling 
her  that  a  miracle,  no  less  wonderful  than  that  which  would  happen  with 
herself,  had  already  been  wrought  upon  her  relative  Elisabeth.  Mary's 
answer  is  the  ideal  of  dignified  humility,  and  meek  and  reverend  innocence : 
—  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ;  be  it  unto  me  according  to  thy 
word."     And  presently  she  was  alone. 

Had  the  narrative  of  the  miraculous  conception  occurred  in  the  literature 
of  a  heathen  nation,  it  would  justly  have  raised  doubts.  But  in  the  sober 
verses  of  the  Gospels,  written  by  Jews,  it  takes  a  far  different  character. 
The  idea  was  altogether  foreign  to  the  Jewish  mind.  The  Hebrew  doctrine 
of  the  Unity  of  God,  and  of  the  infinite  elevation  of  the  Divine  Being  above 
man,  the  profound  regard  of  the  Jews  for  the  married  state,  and  their  ab- 
horrence of  unwedded  life,  make  it  impossible  to  imagine  how  such  a 
thought  could  ever  have  risen  among  them.  The  improbability  of  its 
being  invented  by  a  Jew  is  heightened  by  the  fact  that,  though  lofty  thoughts 
of  the  nature  of  the  Messiah  were  not  wanting  in  some  Israelites,  the 
almost  universal  belief  was  that  He  was  to  be  simply  a  man,  who 
Avould  receive  miraculous  endowments  on  His  formal  consecration  as 
Messiah. 

AVhat  best  to  do  in  a  position  so  mysterious  may  well  have  trouljled 
Mary's  heart.  The  angel  had  told  her  that  her  relative  Elisabeth,  as  well 
as  herself,  had  been  favoui'ed  of  God  in  connection  with  the  expected 
Messiah,  and  it  is  a  natural  trait,  in  one  whose  strength  of  mind,  and  calm 
decision  of  character,  had  shown  itself  even  in  her  Yisitation,  that  she  now 
determined  to  go  to  her  kinswoman  and  confer  with  her,  though  the  dis- 
tance between  them  was  over  a  hundred  miles. 

What  were  the  thoughts  of  Mary  in  her  solitary  journey — for  solitary 
she  must  have  been,  with  such  a  secret  in  her  heart,  even  if  she  travelled 
with  a  company  ?  She  likely  went  on  foot,  for  it  was  the  custom  of  her 
people,  and,  moreover,  she  was  poor.  The  intimation  made  to  her  was  one 
which  she  could  hardly  grasp  in  its  full  significance.     Her  Son  was  to  sit 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT   TO    MARY.  G9 

upon  the  throne  of  His  father  David,  aucT  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob, 
founding  a  kingdom  which  should  endure  for  ever.  But  this  was  only 
what  she  had  expected  as  a  Jewess,  for,  like  all  her  nation,  she  thought  of 
the  Messiah  as  a  Jewish  king  who  should  restore  the  long-lost  glories  of 
her  race,  and  make  Israel  triumphant  over  all  the  heathen.  She  had  been 
told  as  well,  however,  that  her  child,  from  its  birth,  should  be  called  the 
Son  of  the  Highest,  and  the  Son  of  God.  The  human  mind  is  slow  to 
grasp  great  truths,  and  needs  to  grow  into  a  comprehension  of  their  mean- 
ing :  it  cannot  receive  them  in  their  fulness  till  it  has  been  educated,  step 
by  step,  to  understand  them.  Long  years  after  this  she  only  partially 
realized  the  import  of  such  words.  In  her  Son's  youth  she  was  perplexed 
to  know  what  was  meant  by  His  answer,  when  He  stayed  behind  in  the 
Temple ;  and  years  after  that  she  failed,  once  again,  to  realize  her  true  rela- 
tions to  Him.  Nor  does  she  seem  to  have  risen  to  the  full  sublimity  of 
her  position,  and  of  His,  while  He  lived,  though  the  deathless  love  of  a 
mother  for  her  child  brought  her  to  the  foot  of  the  Cross.  But  in  such 
slowness  to  believe,  and  such  abidingly  imperfect  conceptions,  she  was 
only  on  a  footing  with  those  who  enjoyed  habitual  intercourse  with  Him, 
hearing  His  words,  and  seeing  His  miracles,  day  by  day ;  for  even  the 
disciples  remained  to  the  end  Jewish  peasants,  in  their  ideas  respecting 
Him,  thinking  that  He  was  only  a  political  deliverer  of  the  nation.  Pre- 
occupation of  the  mind  by  fixed  opinions,  leads  to  a  wrong  reading  of  any 
evidence.  We  unconsciously  distort  facts,  or  invent  them,  to  support  our 
favourite  theories,  and  see  everything  through  their  medium,  like  the 
musician,  who  held  that  God  worked  six  days,  and  rested  on  the  seventh, 
because  there  are  seven  notes  in  music;  or  as  in  the  instance  fancied  by 
Helvetius,  where  a  loving  couple  had  no  doubt  that  two  objects,  visible  on 
the  disc  of  the  moon,  were  t^vo  lovers  bending  towards  each  other,  while  a 
clergyman  had  as  little,  that  they  were  the  two  steeples  of  a  cathedral. 
Our  conclusions  are  determined  largely  by  our  predispositions,  and  our 
prejudices,  or  prejudgments,  in  great  measure  monopolize  our  faculties. 
We  are  not  so  much  ignorant  as  perverted.  We  see  truth  through  a  prism. 
We  are  so  entirely  the  creatures  of  education,  of  the  opinions  of  our  neigh- 
bours and  of  our  family,  and  of  the  thousand  influences  of  life,  that  the 
only  way  we  can  hope  to  see  truth  in  its  own  white  and  unbroken  light  is, 
as  Christ  tells  us,  by  our  becoming  little  children.  With  Mary  and  the 
disciples  this  came  in  the  end,  but  not  till  then.  The  influence  expressed 
in  Seneca's  apophthegm — Sordet  cognita  Veritas — blinded  their  eyes,  in  part, 
while  our  Lord  was  still  with  them;  but  He  rose  to  His  divine  grandeur 
as  He  left  them.  In  the  Acts  and  the  Epistles  the  disciples  breathe  a  far 
loftier  spirituality,  in  their  conception  of  the  work  and  Person  of  Christ, 
than  in  the  Gospels;  and  Mary,  beyond  question,  was  not  behind  men  with 
whose  lot  she  from  that  time  cast  in  her  own. 

Her  meeting  with  Elisabeth  was  naturally  marked  by  the  deep  emotion 
of  both,  and  we  owe  to  it  the  earliest  and  grandest  of  our  hymns,  the 
Magnificat.  Greeted  by  Elisabeth  as  the  future  mother  of  her  Lord,  Mary 
breaks  out,  with  the  poetical  fervour  of  Eastern  nature,  in  a  strain  of 
exalted  feeling.     The  rhythmical  expression  into  which  she  falls  v/as  only 


70  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

what  might  have  been  expected  from  one  imbued,  as  all  Jewish  minds  were, 
with  the°3tyle  and  imagery  of  the  Old  Testament.  Like  Miriam,  Deborah, 
Hannah,  or  Judith,  she  uttere  a  song  of  joy  :— 

My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord, 

And  my  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour  ; 

For  He  hath  regarded  the  low  estate  of  His  handmaiden ; 

For,  behold,  from  henceforth  all  generations  shall  call  me  blessed. 

For  He  that  is  mighty  hath  done  to  me  great  things  : 
And  Holy  is  His  name. 

And  His  mercy  is  on  them  that  fear  Him,  from  generation  to  generation. 

He  hath  showed  strength  with  His  arm  ; 

He  hath  scattered  the  proud  in  tlie  imagination  of  their  hearts. 

He  hath  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  scats  ; 

And  exalted  them  of  low  degree."^ 

He  hath  filled  the  hungry  with  good  things  ; 

And  the  rich  Ho  hath  sent  empty  away. 

He  hatli  holpen  His  servant  Israel 

In  remembrance  of  His  mercy ; 

As  He  spake  to  our  fathers, 

To  Abraham  and  to  his  seed,  for  ever. 

The  whole  hymn  is  a  mosaic  of  Old  Testament  imagery  and  language, 
and  shows  a  mind  so  coloured  by  the  sacred  writings  of  her  people  that 
her  whole  utterance  becomes,  spontaneously,  as  by  a  second  nature,  an 
echo  of  that  of  prophets  and  saints.  It  is  such  as  we  might  have  ex- 
pected from  the  lips  of  some  ideal  Puritan  maiden,  in  those  days  in  our 
own  history,  when  men  were  so  deeply  read  in  the  oracles  of  God,  that 
their  ordinary  conversation  fell  into  Scriptural  phrases  and  allusions,  and 
their  whole  life  was  coloured  by  the  daily  contemplation  of  superior  beings 
and  eternal  interests.  Mary,  lilce  them,  must  have  lived  in  a  constant 
realization  of  the  presence  and  special  providence  of  One  with  whose 
gTacious  communications  to  her  people  she  had  thus  filled  lier  whole 
thoughts.  A  Jewish  puritanism,  of  the  loftiest  and  most  spiritual  type, 
must  have  been  the  very  atmosphei'e  in  which  she  moved,  and  in  which 
her  child  was  hereafter  to  be  trained. 

The  high  intellectual  emotion  and  eloquence  of  the  Magnificat  reveal 
a  nature  of  no  common  mould,  as  its  intense  religions  fervour  shows 
spiritual  characteristics  of  the  noblest  type.  But  the  strain  throughout 
is  strictly  limited  to  what  we  might  have  expected  in  a  Jewish  maiden. 
It  is  intensely  national  when  it  is  not  personal.  She  rejoices  in  God,  and 
magnifies  His  name,  for  having  honoured  her  so  greatly,  notwithstanding 
her  low  estate.  He  has  done  great  things  for  her,  which  will  make  all 
generations  pronounce  her  blessed.  He  has  thus  favoured  her  because 
she  feared  Him,  for  His  mercy  is  on  such,  from  generation  to  generation. 
As  of  old,  when  He  showed  strength  with  His  arm,  and  scattered  the 
proud,  and  put  down  the  mighty  from  their  thrones,  to  deliver  or  exalt 
His  weak  and  lowly  people,  so,  now.  He  has  exalted  her,  and  disappointed 
the  hopes  of  the  great  ones;  He  has  filled  her,  who  was  like  the  hungry, 
with  good  things,  and  has  sent  away  empty  the  rich,  who  expected  His 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT   TO    MARY.  71 

favours.  Througli  her  He  has  holpen  Israel,  in  remembrance  of  His 
promise  to  her  fathers,  to  Abraham,  and  to  his  seed,  for  ever,  that  He 
would  be  their  God.  Her  son  was  to  be  the  Anointed  who  should  redeem 
Israel  out  of  all  its  troubles.  As  a  descendant  of  David,  she  doubtless 
thinks  of  Herod,  sitting,  as  an  Edomite  intruder,  on  the  throne  rightfully 
due  to  her  own  race,  yet,  as  an  Israelite  in  the  best  sense,  the  redemption 
of  her  people  goes  beyond  the  merely  patriotic  and  political,  to  the  resto- 
ration of  that  primitive  loyalty  to  the  God  of  their  fathers  which  she 
cherished  in  her  own  breast,  but  the  sjiirit  of  which  her  people  had  well- 
nigh  lost,  amidst  all  their  steadfastness  in  the  outer  forms. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  how  willingly  Mary  lingered  in  Hebron,  and 
that  she  was  loth  to  return  to  Nazareth  sooner  than  was  necessary. 
Elisabeth  knew  her  great  secret  and  her  innocence,  but  at  ISTazareth  she 
would  be  among  her  neighbours,  who  might  not  credit  her  assurances ; 
and  she  must  some  day,  as  late  as  possible,  break  the  matter  to  her 
betrothed.  It  is  no  wonder  to  find  that  three  months  passed,  before  she 
could  venture  to  tiirn  her  face  homewa,rd  once  more. 

Her  position  on  her  return,  indeed,  exjDosed  her  to  a  trial,  great  above 
all  others  to  a  virtuous  woman.  Conscious  of  perfect  purity,  she  is 
suspected  of  the  reverse  by  him  to  whom  her  troth  is  plighted ;  but  He 
who  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  relieved  her  from  her  troubles 
by  making  knov^^n  to  Joseph  the  mysterious  truth.  As  a  just  man — which 
was  a  current  expression  of  the  time  for  a  strict  observer  of  the  Law— 
and  yet  unwilling  to  expose  her  to  public  shame,  he  had  made  np  his 
mind  to  divorce  her  formally,  by  a  written  "  bill,"  duly  attested  by 
witnesses ;  but  being  divinely  instructed,  that  his  fears  were  groundless, 
he  freed  her  from  all  future  trouble  by  taking  her  home  as  his  wife. 

Legend,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was  early  busy  with  the  story  of 
Mary  and  Joseph. 

We  are  told  that  Joseph,  thongh  a  carpenter,  was  made  a  priest  in  the 
Temple,  because  of  his  knowledge  of  the  Law,  and  his  fame  for  holiness. 
Mary  was  his  second  wife,  and  found  herself,  on  her  coming  home,  in  a 
circle  of  four  sons  and  two  daughters,  left  by  her  predecessor — the  family 
known  in  the  Gospels  as  the  brethren  and  sisters  of  our  Lord.  Mary,  as 
has  been  said,  was  the  daughter  of  Joachim  and  Anna.  On  her  father's 
side  she  came  from  N'azarGth ;  on  her  mother's,  from  Bethlehem.  Joachim 
was  a  simple.  God-fearing  man,  a  shepherd,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  and 
married  Anna  when  ho  was  twenty  years  of  age.  Twenty  years  passed, 
however,  withoiit  their  having  a  child,  and  both  Joachim  and  Anna  grieved 
sorely  at  their  loneliness.  At  the  Temple,  Joachim  found  himself  ordered 
away  from  among  those  who  had  children,  and  his  offerings  refused,  and 
Anna,  also,  had  to  bear  reproach  from  the  women  of  her  people. 

Then  "  Anna  Avept  sore,  and  prayed  to  God.  And  when  the  great  day 
of  the  Lord  came,  Judith,  her  maid,  said  to  her.  How  long  will  thy  soul 
mourn  ?  It  becomes  thee  not  to  be  sad,  for  the  great  day  of  the  Lord  has 
come.  Take  thy  head-dress,  which  the  needlewoman  gave  me ;  it  is  not 
allovv^cd  me  to  put  it  on  thee,  because  I  am  thy  maid,  and  thou  comcst  of 
kings,''     Then  was  Anna  much  troubled,  and  laid  aside  her  mourning, 


72  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

and  adorned  her  head,  and  put  on  her  Ijridal  robes,  and  went  into  the 
garden  about  the  ninth  hour.  There  she  saw  a  laurel-tree,  and  sat  down 
beneath  it,  and  prayed  thus  to  God : — "  God  o£  my  fatliers,  bless  me  and 
hear  my  cry,  as  Thou  hcardcst  Sarah,  and  blessedst  her  by  giving  her  a 
son,  Isaac."  While,  now,  she  was  looking  up  to  heaven,  she  saw  the  nest 
of  a  sparrow  in  the  laurel-tree,  and  she  sighed  and  said,  "  Woe  is  me,  woe 
is  me,  who  have  no  child !  Why  was  I  born  that  I  should  have  become 
accursed  before  the  children  of  Israel,  and  despised,  and  scorned,  and 
driven  away  from  the  temple  of  the  Lord  my  God .''  Woe  is  mo,  to  what 
can  I  liken  myself?  Not  to  the  birds  of  the  heavens,  for  they  have 
young ;  not  to  the  senseless  beasts,  for  they  are  fruitful  before  Thee,  0 
Lord ;  not  to  the  creatures  of  the  waters,  for  they  have  young  ;  not  to  the 
earth,  for  it  brings  forth  fruits  in  their  seasons,  and  Ijlesses  Thee,  0 
Lord." 

Then  an  angel  came  and  told  her  she  should  have  a  child.  And  Anna 
said,  "  As  the  Lord  God  liveth,  be  it  male  or  female  that  I  bear,  I  vow  it 
to  the  Lord,  and  it  shall  serve  Him  all  the  days  of  its  life."  And  Anna 
bore  a  daughter,  and  called  it  Mary,  as  the  angel  had  commanded. 

When  six  months  had  passed,  Anna  put  Mary  on  the  ground,  and  found 
that  she  could  totter  a  few  steps.  Then  she  said,  "  As  the  Lord  liveth, 
thou  shalt  never  put  thy  foot  on  the  earth  again  till  I  have  led  thee  into 
the  Temple  of  the  Lord."  At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  Joachim  made  a 
great  feast,  and  called  to  it  the  priests  and  scribes,  and  the  elders,  and 
many  friends.  And  he  brought  the  maiden  to  the  priests,  and  they 
blessed  her,  and  said,  "  God  of  our  fathers,  bless  this  child,  and  give  her  a 
name  Avhicli  shall  be  known  through  all  generations.  And  all  the  people 
said.  Amen." 

We  are  then  told  that  Mary  was  taken  to  the  Temple  when  she  was 
three  years  old,  having  lived  till  then  in  a  sanctuary  made  for  her  in  her 
father's  house.  And  while  Joachim  and  Anna  were  at  the  foot  of  the 
fifteen  steps  that  led  up  to  the  Temple  courts,  and  were  changing  their 
soiled  travelling  raiment  for  clean  and  fitting  dress,  as  the  custom  was, 
Mary  climbed  the  steps  alone,  and  never  looked  back,  but  kept  her  face 
towards  the  altar.  And  she  was  left  in  the  Temple,  that  she  might  grow 
up  with  the  other  virgins. 

From  this  time  till  she  was  twelve  years  old,  it  is  said,  she  lived  in  the 
Temple,  her  graces  keeping  pace  with  her  j-ears.  From  the  morning  till 
the  third  hour,  she  remained  in  prayer,  and  from  that  till  the  ninth  she 
was  busied  with  spinning.  Then  she  betook  herself  once  more  to  prayer, 
till  an  angel  each  day  came  with  food  for  her.  Her  betrothal  to  Joseph  is 
related  in  great  detail,  but  we  forbear  to  quote  it. 

Tradition,  to  which  we  owe  these  beautiful  legends,  has  delighted  to 
speak  of  the  Virgin's  appearance  and  character.  She  was  more  given  to 
prayer,  we  read,  than  any  round  her,  brighter  in  the  knowledge  of  God's 
law,  and  perfectly  humble;  she  delighted  to  sing  the  Psalms  of  David 
with  a  melodious  voice,  and  all  loved  her  for  her  kindness  and  modesty. 

It  is  impossible  to  trust  to  the  descriptions  of  Mary's  person,  but  it  is 
interesting  to  know  how  remote  generations  imagined  her.     She  was  in  all 


THE    BIRTH    OF    CIIIIIST.  73 

cliings  serious  and  earnest,  says  one  old  tradition,  spoke  little,  and  only 
what  was  to  the  purpose ;  she  was  very  gentle,  and  showed  respect  and 
honour  to  all.  She  was  of  middle  height,  though  some  say  she  was  rather 
above  it.  She  spoke  to  all  with  a  prudent  frankness,  soberly,  without  con- 
fusion, and  always  pleasantly.  She  had  a  fair  complexion,  blonde  hair,  and 
bright  hazel  eyes.  Her  eyebrows  were  arched  and  dark,  her  nose  well  pro- 
portioned, her  lips  ruddy  and  full  of  kindness  when  she  spoke.  Her  face 
was  long  rather  than  round,  and  her  hands  and  fingers  were  finely  shaped- 
She  had  no  pride,  but  was  simple,  and  wholly  free  from  deceit.  Without 
effeminacy,  she  was  far  from  forwardness.  In  her  clothes,  which  she  her- 
self made,  she  was  content  with  the  natural  colours. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   BIKTII   OP   CHRIST. 

"TT  might  have  been  expected  that  Mary's  child  would  have  been  born  in 
-*-  the  city  of  Nazareth,  where  Joseph  and  Mary  lived,  but  circum- 
stances over  which  they  had  no  control  made  a  distant  village  the 
birthplace. 

The  Jewish  nation  had  paid  tribute  to  Rome,  through  their  rulers,  since 
the  days  of  Pompey;  and  the  methodical  Augustus,  who  now  reigned, 
and  had  to  restore  order  and  soundness  to  the  finances  of  the  empire,  after 
the  confusion  and  exhaustion  of  the  civil  wars,  took  good  care  that  this 
obligation  should  neither  be  forgotten  nor  evaded.  He  was  accustomed 
to  require  a  census  to  be  taken  periodically  in  every  province  of  his  vast 
dominions,  that  he  might  know  the  number  of  soldiers  he  could  levy  in 
each,  and  the  amount  of  taxes  due  to  the  treasury.  So  exact  was  he,  that 
he  wrote  out  with  his  own  hand  a  summary  of  statistics  of  the  whole 
empire,  including  the  citizens  and  allies  in  arms,  in  all  the  kingdoms  and 
provinces,  with  their  tributes  and  taxes.  Three  separate  surveys  of  the 
empire  for  such  fiscal  and  military  ends  are  recorded  as  ordered — in  the 
726th,  7-16th,  and  767th  years  of  the  city  of  Rome,  respectively :  the  first, 
long  before  the  birth  of  Christ ;  the  third,  in  our  Lord's  youth ;  but  the 
second,  very  near  the  time  when  He  must  have  been  born. 

In  an  empire  embracing  the  then  known  world,  such  a  census  could 
hardly  have  been  made  simultaneously,  or  in  any  short  or  fixed  time  ;  more 
probaljly  it  was  the  work  of  years,  in  successive  provinces  or  kingdoms. 
Sooner  or  later,  however,  even  the  dominions  of  vassal  kings  like  Hei'od 
had  to  furnish  the  statistics  demanded  by  their  master.  He  had  received 
his  kingdom  on  the  footing  of  a  subject,  and  grew  more  entirely  dependent 
on  Augustus  as  years  passed,  asking  his  sanction  at  every  turn  for  steps 
he  proposed  to  take.  He  would,  thus,  be  only  too  ready  to  meet  his  wish, 
by  obtaining  the  statistics  he  sought,  as  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that 
in  one  of  the  last  years  of  his  life,  just  before  Christ's  birth,  he  made  the 
whole  Jewish  nation  take  a  solemn  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Empei'or  as 
well  as  to  himself. 


74  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

It  is  quite  proljable  that  the  mode  of  taking  the  required  statistics  was 
left  very  much  to  Herod,  at  once  to  show  respect  to  him  before  his  people, 
and  from  the  known  opposition  of  the  Jews  to  anything  like  a  general 
numeration,  even  apart  from  the  taxation  to  which  it  was  designed  to 
lead.  At  the  time  to  which  the  narrative  refers,  a  simple  registration 
seems  to  have  been  made,  on  the  old  Hebrew  plan  of  enrolling  by  families, 
in  their  ancestral  districts,  of  course  for  future  use ;  and  thus  it  passed 
over  quietly.  The  very  different  results,  when  it  was  followed  by  a  general 
taxation,  some  years  later,  will  hereafter  be  seen. 

The  proclamation  having  been  made  throiigh  the  land,  Joseph  had  no 
choice  but  to  go  to  Bethlehem,  the  city  of  David,  the  place  in.which  his  family 
descent,  from  the  house  and  lineage  of  David,  required  him  to  be  inscribed, 
It  must,  apparently,  have  been  near  the  close  of  the  year  749  of  Eome,  or 
at  the  opening  of  750 ;  but  winter  in  Palestine  is  not  necessarily  severe, 
for  the  flowers  spring  xip  after  the  November  rains,  and  flocks  are  often 
driven  out  to  the  pastures,  as  St.  Luke  tells  us  was  the  case  at  the  time 
of  Christ's  birth.  Unwilling  to  leave  her  behind  in  a  home  so  new  to  her, 
Joseph  took  Mary  with  him  :  the  two  journeying  most  likely,  as  tradition 
has  painted— Joseph  afoot,  with  Mary  on  an  ass  at  his  side.  There  were 
by-paths  interlacing  and  crossing,  all  over  the  country,  and  they  may  have 
chosen  some  of  these ;  but  if  they  kept  to  the  travelled  road,  which  it  is 
most  likely  they  did,  both  for  safety  and  company,  we  can  follow  their  pro- 
gress even  now. 

Passing  down  the  little  valley  of  ISTazareth,  they  would  find  themselves 
crossing  the  rich  plain  of  Esdraelon — not  then,  as  noAV,  half  tilled  and  well, 
nigh  unpeopled,  but  covered  with  cities  and  villages,  full  of  teeming  life 
and  human  activities.  Galilee,  according  to  Josephus,  contained  in  those 
daj^s  two  hundred  and  four  cities  and  villages,  the  smallest  of  which 
niinibcred  above  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  calculated,  indeed, 
that  it  had  a  population  of  about  fifteen  hundred  to  the  square  mile,  which 
is  a  third  more  than  the  number  in  Lancashire,  crowded  as  it  is  with  large 
and  densely  peopled  towns.  Speaking  of  the  district  just  north  of  Galilee, 
Captain  Burton  tells  us  that,  to  one  standing  on  a  peak  of  Lebanon, 
overlooking  it,  "  the  land  must,  in  many  places,  have  appeared  to  be  one 
continuous  town ;  "  and  in  the  highlands  of  Syria,  still  north  of  this,  in 
the  region  of  Hamah,  there  are  the  ruins  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
towns,  so  that  Mr.  Drake  had  good  ground  for  thinking  the  Aral)s  right  in 
saying,  "that  a  man  might  formerly  have  travelled  for  a  year  in  this  dis- 
trict, and  never  have  slept  twice  in  the  same  village." 

Leaving,  on  the  left,  the  rounded  height  of  Tabor,  and  the  villages  of 
Nain  and  Endor,  underneath  the  hills,  the  road  stretched  directly  south  to 
Jezreel,  once  Ahab's  capital,  on  a  gentle  swell  of  the  rich  plain  of  Esdraelon. 
On  their  way  they  would  pass  through  a  landscape  of  busy  cities  and 
towns,  varied  by  orchards,  vineyards,  gardens,  and  fields,  for  every  avail- 
able spot  was  cultivated,  to  the  very  tops  of  the  hills.  The  mountains  of 
Gilboa,  where  Saul  perished,  lay  a  little  east  of  Jezreel  as  they  went  on, 
and  then  came  Engannim,  with  its  spring,  on  the  edge  of  the  hill- 
country  of  Samaria.     Dothanj  with  its  rich  pastures,  where  Joseph  had 


THE    EIRTil   or    CHRIST.  75 

found  his  brethren  so  many  ages  before,  would  soon  be  seen  on  their  right ; 
and,  Ijefore  long,  their  winding  road,  rising  and  falling  among  continuous 
hills,  would  bring  them  to  Samaria  itself,  then  just  rebuilt  by  Herod,  with 
such  magnificence,  that  he  had  given  it  the  name  of  Scbaste,  the  Greek 
equivalent  of  Augusta,  in  honour  of  his  imperial  master.  Sychar  or 
Shcchem,  with  its  lovely  neighbourhood,  would  be  their  resting-place  on 
the  second  day,  for  it  is  noarl^^  midway  between  Judea  and  Galilee  ;  and 
though  the  distance  between  the  two  was  often  reckoned  as  onlya  three  days' 
journey,  it  was  not  uncommon  to  lengthen  it  to  four.  As  the  chief  town 
of  the  Samaritans,  Sychar  would  hardly  offer  hospitality  to  travellers  with 
their  faces  towards  the  hated  Jerusalem.  Joseph  and  Mary,  as  was  the 
custom  with  Jews  i:)assing  through,  would,  therefore,  avoid  the  town, 
and  pass  the  night  in  what  shelter  they  could  find  at  Jacob's  springs, — or 
Jacob's  well,  as  our  version  has  it, — not  far  off,  eating  provisions  they  had 
brought  with  them,  to  avoid  ta,sting  food  defiled  by  the  touch  of  a  Samar- 
itan, and  drinking  only  the  water  from  the  springs.  The  beauty  of 
the  valley,  with  its  swelling  heights  of  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  separated  only 
by  a  few  hundred  paces,  and  its  rich  upland  glens,  opening  on  each  side 
beyond — the  crown  and  water-shed  of  Central  Palestine — would  have 
little  interest  to  them,  for  it  was  Samaritan  ground.  They  would  breathe 
freely  only  when  they  had  passed  the  heights  of  Akrabbim,  the  border 
ridge  between  Samaria  and  Judea,  and  had  set  foot  again  on  the  holy  soil 
of  Israel. 

Once  in  Judea,  its  bleak  and  bare  hills  were  hallowed,  at  each  opening 
of  the  landscape,  by  the  sight  of  spots  sacred  to  every  Jew.  Shiloh  would 
greet  them  first,  where  Hannah  came  to  pray  before  the  Lord ;  then 
Gilgal,  where  her  son  sat  to  judge  Israel.  Their  way  would  next  pass 
through  the  valley  of  Baca,  of  which  the  Psalmist  had  sung,  "  Passing 
through  the  valley  of  tears,  they  made  it  rich  in  springs  ;  and  the  latter 
rain  covers  it  with  blessings."  The  road  winds  on  from  this,  through 
the  district  tovrn  Gophua,  past  the  venerable  Bethel,  with  all  its 
memories,  and  past  Eamah,  in  Benjamin,  where  Jeremiah  had  pictured 
Eachel  weeping  for  her  children,  slain  or  carried  off  by  the  Babylonian 
conqueror.  Over  against  it  rose  Gibeon,  high  on  its  hill,  where  Solomon 
worshipped;  and  an  hour  later  they  would  pass  Mizpeh,  on  its  lonely 
height,  where  Samuel  raised  his  memorial  stone  Ebonezer.  And  then,  at 
last,  after  having  passed  from  one  holy  place  to  another,  their  feet  would 
stand  within  the  gates  of  Jerusalem. 

Bethlehem,  the  end  of  their  journey,  lay  about  sis  miles  south  of  Jeru- 
salem, on  the  east  of  the  main  road  to  Hebron.  It  covered  the  upper  slope, 
and  part  of  the  top,  of  a  narrow  ridge  of  grey  Jura  limestone,  aljout  a  mile 
in  length— one  of  the  countless  heights,  seamed  by  narrow  valleys,  whicli 
make  up  the  hill  country  of  Judea.  Its  narrow,  steep  streets  lay  no  less 
than  2,538  Paris  feet  above  the  Mediterranean,  and  looked  out  over  a  sea  of 
hills,  bare  and  rocky,— one  of  them,  about  three-  miles  to  the  east,  the  peak 
of  the  Frank  mountain,  Jebel  Fureidis,  now  bare,  but  then  covered  with 
the  new  fortifications  of  Herodium,  in  the  circuit  of  which  the  hated  tyrant 
Herod  was  soon  to  find  his  tomb.     On  the  east,  the  mountains  of  Moab 


76  THE    LIFE    OF   CHIIIST. 

rose  against  tlio  horizon  like  a  purple  wall,  tlie  barren  and  desolate  up- 
lands of  tlie  wilderness  of  Judea  lying  between,  and  stretching  far  to  the 
south.  The  ridge  of  Bethlehem  itself  is  still  covered,  on  its  northern  side, 
as  all  the  hills  around  must  have  been  in  Mary's  day,  wdth  bold,  sweeping 
lines  of  terraces,  which  descend,  like  gigantic  steps,  to  the  lower 
valleys,  and  bear  tier  on  tier  of  fig-trees,  olives,  pomegranates,  and 
vines  ;  the  vines  overhanging  the  terrace  banks,  and  relieving  the  eye 
from  the  dazzling  glare  of  the  white  limestone  rocks  and  soil.  The  ridge, 
as  a  whole,  breaks  down,  abruptly,  into  deep  valleys— on  the  north,  south, 
and  cast,  passing  into  gorges,  which  descend,  in  the  distance,  to  the  Dead 
Sea  on  the  east,  and  to  the  coast  lowlands  on  the  west.  In  a  little  plain 
close  under  the  town,  to  the  eastward,  are  some  vineyards  and  barlcy-ficlds, 
in  which  Euth  came  to  glean  in  the  early  days  of  Israel,  beside  a  gentle 
brook  which  still  murmurs  through  them. 

It  was  to  Bethlehem  that  Joseph  and  Mary  were  coming,  the  town  of 
Euth  and  Boaz,  and  the  early  home  of  their  own  great  forefather  David. 
As  they  approached  it  from  Jerusalem,  they  would  pass,  at  the  last  mile, 
a  spot  sacred  to  Jewish  memory,  where  the  light  of  Jacob's  life  went  out, 
when  his  first  love,  Eachel,  died,  and  was  buried,  as  her  tomb  still  shows, 
"  in  the  way  to  Ephrath,  v/hich  is  Bethlehem." 

The  ascent  to  the  town,  over  the  dusty  glare  of  the  grey  limestone  hills, 
was  the  last  of  the  journey,  and  it  is  well  if  Mary  did  not  find  it,  in  parts,  as 
other  travellers  have  found  it,  before  and  since,  so  slippery  as  to  make  it 
seem  safer  to  alight  and  go  up  on  foot.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  nortli 
of  the  town-gate  she  would  pass  the  well,  from  which,  as  she  had  heard 
from  infancy,  her  ancestor  David  had  so  longed  to  drink.  Presently, 
passing  through  the  low  gate,  she  and  Joseph  were  in  the  mountain  town 
or  village  of  Bethlehem. 

Travelling  in  the  East  has  always  been  very  different  from  Western 
ideas.  As  in  all  thinly-settled  countries,  private  hospitality,  in  early  times, 
.supplied  the  want  of  inns  ;  but  it  was  the  peculiarity  of  the  East  that  tliis 
friendly  custom  continued  through  a  long  series  of  ages.  On  the  great 
roads  through  barren  or  uninhabited  parts,  the  need  of  shelter  led,  very 
early,  to  the  erection  of  rude  and  simple  buildings,  of  varying  size,  known 
as  khans,  which  offered  the  wayfarer  the  protection  of  walls  and  a  roof, 
and  water,  bat  little  more.  The  smaller  structures  consisted  of  some- 
times only  a  single  empty  room,  on  the  floor  of  which  the  traveller  might 
spread  his  carpet  for  sleep  ;  the  larger  ones,  always  built  in  a  hollow  square, 
enclosing  a  court  for  the  beasts,  with  water  in  it  for  them  and  their 
masters.  From  immemorial  antiquity  it  has  been  a  favourite  mode  of 
benevolence  to  raise  such  places  of  shelter,  as  we  see  so  far  back  as  the 
times  of  David,  when  Chimhani  built  a  great  khan  near  Bethlehem,  on 
the  caravan  road  to  Egypt. 

But  while  it  has  long  been  thus,  in  special  circumstances,  the  Eastern 
sense  of  the  sacredness  of  hospitality,  Avhich  was  felt  deeply  by  the  Jews, 
made  inns,  in  our  sense,  or  even  khans,  where  travellers  provided  for  them- 
selves, unnecessary  in  any  peopled  place.  The  simplicity  of  Eastern  life, 
which  has  fewer  wants  than  the  Western   mind  can  well  realize,  aided  by 


THE    BIRTH   OF    CHRIST.  77 

universal  hospitality,  opened  private  houses  everywhere  to  the  traveller, 
The  ancient  Jew,  like  the  modern  Arab,  held  it  a  reflection  on  a  community 
if  a  passing  wayfarer  was  not  made  some  one's  guest.  To  bring  water  at 
once,  to  wash  the  traveller's  feet,  dusty  with  the  Eastern  sandals,  was  an 
act  of  courtesy  which  it  showed  a  churlish  spirit  to  omit.  Food  and  lodg- 
ing, for  himself  and  his  beasts,  if  he  had  any,  were  provided,  and  he  was 
regarded  as  under  the  sacred  protection  of  his  host.  At  the  time  of 
Christ  this  priinitive  simplicity  still  continued.  The  Eabbis  constantly 
urge  the  religious  merit  of  hospitality,  promising  Paradise  as  its  reward, 
and  ranking  the  kindly  reception  of  strangers  higher  than  to  have  been 
honoured  by  an  appearance  of  the  Shechinah  itself.  Its  universal  recog- 
nition as  a  natural  duty,  in  His  age,  is  often  found  even  in  the  discourses 
of  our  Lord. 

AVc  may  feel  sure,  therefore,  that  it  was  not  an  "  inn  "  where  Joseph  and 
Mary  found  shelter  after  their  journey,  though  that  word  is  used  in  our 
English  version.  In  the  only  two  other  places  in  which  it  occurs,  it  refers 
to  a  friendly  "guest-chamber  "  in  a  private  house.  At  such  a  time,  how- 
ever, when  strangers  had  arrived  from  every  part,  the  household  to  which 
they  looked  for  entertainment  had  already  opened  their  guest-chamber  to 
earlier  comers,  and  the  only  accommodation  that  could  be  offered  was  a 
place,  half  kit  jhen  and  half  staljle,  which  was  simply  one  of  the  countless 
natural  hollows  or  caves  in  the  hill-side,  against  which  the  house  had  been 
built,  as  is  still  seen  frequently  in  Palestine. 

How  long  Joseph  and  Mary  had  been  in  Bethlehem  before  Jesus  was 
born,  it  is  impossible  to  say,  for  time  is  of  no  value  to  Orientals,  and  a  stay 
of  a  few  weeks  more  or  less  would  be  little  regarded.  St.  Luke  merely 
tells  us  that  while  they  were  there  Mary  gave  birth  to  the  Saviour.  Milton, 
following  the  immemorial  tradition  of  the  Church,  sings  : 

"  It  was  the  winter  wild 

While  the  heaven-born  child, 
All  meanly  wrapt,  in  the  rude  manger  lies; 

Nature,  in  awe  to  him, 

Had  doff'd  her  gaudy  trim, 
With  her  groat  Master  so  to  sympathize ; 

It  was  no  season  then  for  her 

To  wanton  with  the  sun." 

But  tlie  poet's  fancy  alone  creates  the  bleak  wintryness  of  the  time,  for 
the  outlying  shepherds  on  the  hills  around  were  living  witnesses  of  the 
reverse.  Yet  it  seems  most  probable  that  the  great  event  took  place  be- 
tween December,  749,  of  Eome,  and  Feln-uary,  750 ;  and  the  only  reason  , 
why  there  can  be  any  hesitation  in  supposing  December  2oth  to  have  been  ' 
the  very  day  is  the  natural  doubt  whether  the  date  could  have  been  handed 
down  so  exactly,  and  the  fear  lest  the  wish  to  associate  the  birth  of  the 
Eedeemer  with  the  return  of  the  sun,  which  made  Christmas  be  early 
spoken  of  as  the  "  day  of  the  triumphant  sun,"  may  have  led  to  its  having 
been  chosen. 

The  simplicity  of  St.  Luke's  narrative  is  very  striking.  An  event,  com- 
pared with  which  all  others  in  human  history  are  insignificant,  is  recorded 
in  a  few  words,  without  any  attempt  at  exaggeration  or  embellishment. 


78  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

The  Apocryphal  Gospels,  on  the  contrary,  abound  in  mu-aculous  details, 
for  the  most  part  trifling  and  childish.  Some  features  in  their  narratives, 
however,  are  not  wauting  in  naturalness  or  even  sublimity,  and,  at  the 
least,  they  have  the  merit  of  showing  how  the  early  Clmrch  painted  for 
itself  the  scene  of  the  Nativity.  "  It  happened,"  says  these  old  legends, 
"as  Mary  and  Joseph  were  going  up  towards  Bethlehem,  that  the  time 
came  when  Jesus  should  be  born,  and  Mary  said  to  Joseph,  '  Take  me  down 
from  my  ass,'  and  he  took  her  down  from  her  ass,  and  said  to  her,  '  Where 
shall  I  take  thee,  for  there  is  no  inn  here?  '  Then  he  found  a  cave  near 
the  grave  of  Eachel,  the  wife  of  the  patriarch  Jacob  —the  mother  of  J  oseph 
and  Benjamin;  and  light  never  entered  the  cave,  but  it  was  always  filled 
with  darkness.  And  the  sun  was  then  just  going  down.  Into  this  he  led 
her,  and  left  his  two  sons  beside  her,  and  went  out  towards  Bethlehem  to 
seek  help.  But  when  Mary  entered  the  cave  it  was  presently  filled  with 
light,  and  beams,  as  if  of  the  sun,  shone  around  ;  and  thus  it  cojitinued,  day 
and  night,  while  she  remained  in  it. 

"  In  this  cave  the  child  was  born,  and  the  angels  were  round  Him  at  His 
birth,  and  worshipped  the  JSTew-born,  and  said,  '  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
and  peace  on  earth  and  goodwill  to  men.'  Meanwhile  Jose2:)h  was  wander- 
ing about,  seeking  help.  And  when  he  looked  up  to  heaven,  he  saw  that 
the  pole  of  the  heavens  stood  still,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  stopped  in  the 
midst  of  their  flight,  and  the  sky  was  darkened.  And  looking  on  the  earth 
he  saw  a  dish  full  of  food,  prepared,  and  workmen,  resting  round  it,  with 
their  hands  in  the  dish  to  eat,  and  thosQ  who  were  stretching  out  their 
hands  did  not  take  any  of  the  food,  and  those  who  were  lifting  their  hands 
to  their  mouths  did  not  do  so,  but  the  faces  of  all  were  turned  upwards. 
And  he  saw  sheep  Ayliich  were  being  driven  along,  and  the  sheep  stood 
still,  and  the  shepherd  lifted  his  hand  to  strike  them,  but  it  remained  up- 
lifted.  And  he  came  to  a  spring,  and  saw  the  goats  with  their  mouths 
touching  the  water,  but  they  did  not  drink,  but  were  under  a  spell,  for  all 
things  at  that  moment  were  turned  from  their  course." 

But  if  wonders  such  as  these  were  wanting,  the  birth  of  the  Saviour  was 
not  without  attestations  of  His  divine  glory.  If  His  birth  was  mean  on 
earth  below,  it  v/as  celebrated  with  hallelujahs  by  the  heavenly  Jiost  in  the 
air  above.  The  few  fields  in  the  valley  below  Bethlehem  have,  likely,  been 
always  too  valuable  to  be  used  for  pasture,  but  the  slopes  and  heights  of 
the  hills  around  were  then,  as  they  had  been  in  David's  time,  and 
are  still,  the  resort  of  shepherds,  with  tlieir  numerous  flocks,  Avhich 
supplied  the  requirements  of  the  neighbouring  Temple.  The  "  Onomas- 
tioon"  of  Eusebius  informs  us  that  about  "a  thousand  paces  from 
Bethlehem  stands  a  tower  called  Eder  —  that  is,  the  tower  of  the 
shepherds  —  a  name  which  foreshadowed  the  angelic  appearance  to 
the  shepherds,  at  the  birth  of  our  Lord."  Jewish  tradition  has  pre- 
served the  record  of  a  tower  of  this  name,  in  this  locality,  where  the  flocks 
of  sheep  for  the  Temple  sacrifices  were  pastured ;  and  there  still  remain, 
at  the  given  distance,  eastwards  from  Bethlehem,  the  ruins  of  a  church 
which  Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantine,  caused  to  be  built  on  the  spot 
believed  to  have  been  that  ab  which  the  heavenly  vision  was  seen. 


THE    BIRTH    OF    CHRIST.  79 

On  the  night  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  a  group  of  shepherds  lay  out,  with 
their  flocks,  on  the  hill-side,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  ancient  watch- 
tower.  Some  of  them  were  keeping  their  turn  of  watching  while  the 
others  slept,  for  shepherds  relieved  each  other  by  watches,  as  our  sailors 
do,  at  fixed  hours.  St.  Luke  expressly  tells  us  that  they  were  "  watching 
the  Avatches  of  the  night."  To  have  received  such  surpassing  honour  from 
above,  they  must  have  been  members,  though  poor  and  humble,  of  that 
true  Israel  which  included  Mary  and  Joseph,  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth, 
Simeon  and  Anna — the  reiiresentatives,  in  those  dark  days,  of  the  saints 
of  their  nation  in  its  brighter  past.  They  must  have  been  men  looking 
out,  in  their  simple  way,  tow^ards  the  invisible  and  eternal,  and  seeking 
that  kingdom  of  God  for  themselves  which  was  one  day,  as  they  believed, 
to  be  revealed  in  their  nation  at  large.  Only  tha.t  mind  which  has  sym- 
pathy with  external  nature  can  receive  in  their  true  significance  the  im- 
pressions it  is  fitted  to  convey,  and  only  the  heart  which  has  sympathy 
with  spiritual  things  can  recognise  their  full  meaning.  Poetic  sensibility 
is  required  in  the  one  case,  and  religious  in  the  other.  In  each  it  is  the 
condition  of  sincere  emotion.  The  stillness  over  hill  and  valley,  broken 
only  by  the  bleating  of  the  sheep  ;  the  unclouded  brightness  of  the  Syrian 
sky,  witii  its  innumerable  stars ;  and  the  associations  of  these  mountain 
pastures,  dear  to  every  Jew,  as  the  scene  of  David's  youth,  were  over  and 
around  them.  And  now,  to  quote  the  beautiful  narrative  of  St.  Luke,  "  lo, 
an  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone 
round  about  them,  and  they  "were  sore  afraid.  And  the  angel  said  unto 
them,  '  Fear  not,  for,  behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which 
shall  be  unto  all  the  people.  For  unto  you  is  born,  this  day,  in  the  City 
of  David,  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall  be  the  sign 
unto  you  :  ye  shall  find  a  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  lying  in  a 
manger.'  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the 
Heavenly  Host,  praising  God  and  saying — 

'  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
And  on  earth  peace. 
Goodwill  toward  men.' " 

With  this  ever-memorable  anthem — the  first  and  last  melody  of  heaven 
ever  heard  by  mortal  ears — the  light  faded  from  the  hills,  as  the  angels 
Vv^ent  away  into  heaven,  and  left  earth  once  more  in  the  shadow  of  night, 
knowing  and  thinking  nothing  of  that  which  so  supremely  interested 
distant  worlds.  Wondering  at  such  a  vision,  and  full  of  simple  trust,  the 
shepherds  had  only  one  thought— to  see  the  babe  and  its  mother  for  them- 
selves. Climbing  the  hill,  therefore,  with  eager  haste,  they  hurried  to 
Bethlehem,  and  there  found  Mary  and  Joseph,  and  the  babe  lying  in  a 
manger,  as  had  been  told  them. 

No  details  are  given:  no  heightening  of  the  picture  of  this  first  act  of 
reverence  to  the  new-born  Saviour.  I>for  are  they  needed.  The  lowliness 
of  the  visitors,  the  pure  image  of  the  Virgin  Mother  and  her  Child,  are 
better  loffc  in  their  own  simplicity.  Infancy  is  for  ever  dignified  'oy  the 
manger  of  Bethlehem:  womanhood  is  ennobled  to  its  purest  ideal  in  Mary: 


80  TUB    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

man,  as  such,  i-eccives  abiding  honour,  in  the  earliest  accepted  homage  to 
her  Sou  being  that  of  the  simple  poor. 

A  great  teacher  has  pointed  some  striking  lessons  on  the  way  in  -which 
the  whole  incident  Avas  received,  as  St.  Luke  relates,  by  those  immediately 
concerned.  The  shepherds  spread  abroad  the  story,  with  hearts  full  of 
grateful  adoration ;  the  hearers  wonder  at  it,  but  Mary  ponders  in  her 
heart  all  that  liad  been  told  her.  "There  were  more  virgins  in  Israel, 
more  even  of  the  tribe  of  David,  than  she,"  says  the  great  preacher  ;  "  but 
she  was  the  Chosen  of  God.  It  was  natm-al,  and  it  is  easy  to  miderstand, 
that  when  a  second  appearance  of  angels,  like  that  which  she  had  already 
herself  experienced,  was  seen,  she  should  ponder  in  her  heart  their  words, 
which  concerned  her  so  nearly.  But,  if  we  ask  om'selves — Was  this  pon- 
dering the  words  in  her  heart  [already  the  true  faith  that  carries  the 
blessing, — the  fruitful  seed  of  a  personal  relation  to  the  Saviour  ? — Did 
Mary  already  believe,  firmly  and  immovably,  that  the  Saviour  of  the  world 
should  see  the  light  of  life  through  her  ? — the  Gospels  leave  us  too  clearly 
to  think  the  opposite.  There  was  a  time,  long  after  this,  when  Christ  was 
already  a  Teacher,  when  she  wavered  between  Him  and  His  brethren  who 
did  not  believe  in  Him ;  when  she  went  out  with  them  to  draw  Him  away 
from  His  course,  and  bring  Him  back  to  her  narrower  circle  of  home  life, 
as  one  who  was  hardly  in  His  right  mind.  Firm,  unwavering  trust,  that 
knows  no  passing  cloud,  is  a  work  of  time  with  all  Avho  have  an  inner 
personal  nearness  to  the  Saviour ;  and  it  was  so  with  Mar3^  She  reached 
it  only,  like  us  all,  through  manifold  doubts  and  struggles  of  heart,  by 
that  grace  from  above  which  roused  her,  ever,  anew,  and  led  her  on  from 
step  to  step." 


CHAPTER    X. 

AX   BETHLEHEM. 

r  I  1HB  first  two  months  of  the  life  of  Christ,  if  not  a  longer  time,  were 
-■-  spent  quietly  in  Bethlehem.  That  great  event  in  a  Hebrew  house- 
hold. His  circumcision,  marked  the  eighth  day  from  His  birth.  To  dedi- 
cate their  children  to  the  God  of  Israel  in  His  appointed  way,  and  thu,s  at 
once  give  them  "  a  portion  in  Israel,"  and  set  them  apart  from  the  nations 
by  this  sacred  token,  was  a  duty  which  no  Jewish  parent  would  for  a 
moment  dare  to  neglect.  "On  the  eighth  day,"  says  the  Book  of  Jubilees, 
'•  shalt  thou  circumcise  thy  boy,  for  on  that  day  were  Abraham  and  the 
people  of  his  house  circumcised.  And  no  one  may  dare  to  change  the  day, 
nor  go  a  day  beyond  the  eight  days,  for  it  is  an  everlasting  law,  established 
and  graven  on  the  tablets  of  heaven.  And  he  who  does  it  not  belongs  not 
to  the  children  of  the  promise,  but  to  the  children  of  destruction.  Sons  of 
Belial  are  they  who  do  it  not."  The  infant  Saviour  was  in  all  probability 
carried  on  the  legal  day  to  the  Temple,  as  it  Avas  so  near,  for  the  perform- 
ance of  the  rite, — for  Joseph  and  Mary,  like  all  other  Jews,  would  think 
a  religious  act  doubly  sacred  within  the  halloAved  courts  of  Mount  Zion. 


AT   BETHLEHEM.  81 

Custom,  however,  would  allow  its  being  done  in  the  local  synagogue,  or  in 
the  humble  house  o£  prayer  in  Bethlehem  itself,  or  even  in  the  house  in 
which  Mary  and  Joseph  lodged. 

The  name  Mary's  child  received  had  already  been  fixed  at  the  Annun- 
ciation, and  was  formally  given  at  the  circumcision,  in  accordance  with 
Jewish  customs  in  reference  to  male  infants.  Its  association  with  such  a 
strictly  Jewish  rite  made  it  the  symbol  of  the  child's  formal  admission 
into  the  congregation  of  Israel,  of  which  he  was  henceforth  a  member. 
The  infant  Jesus  was  now  an  acknowledged  Israelite. 

Thirty-three  days  more  had  to  elapse,  in  accordance  with  Jewish  custom, 
before  Mary  could  visit  the  Temple,  or  even  go  outside  her  dwelling,  or 
touch  anything  made  sacred  by  being  consecrated  to  God.  Including  the 
circumcision  week,  the  Jewish  mother  had  to  pass  forty  days  of  seclusion 
after  the  birth  of  a  son,  and  sixty-six  after  that  of  a  daughter,  before 
she  could  again  take  part  in  common  life.  After  this  long  delay,  she 
might  appear  in  the  Holy  Place,  to  thank  God  for  her  preservation,  and 
to  receive  from  the  priest  the  legal  rite  of  purification. 

When,  at  last,  the  day  of  her  long-desired  visit  to  the  Temple  came, 
Marj^  with  her  child,  had  to  present  themselves  in  the  Court  of  the 
Women  as  soon  as  the  morning  incense  had  been  offered,  and  the  nine 
blasts  of  the  Temple  trumpets  had  given  the  signal  for  morning  prayer. 
The  road  from  Bethlehem  ran  alono;  the  western  side  of  the  hill  which 
overlooks  Mount  Zion  from  the  south — that  on  which  Pompey,  sixty  years 
before,  had  pitched  his  camp^a  defilement  of  the  holy  soil  never  since 
forgotten.  Passing  Herod's  great  amphitheatre,  with  its  heathen  orna- 
ments— a  sight  as  revolting  to  a  Jewess  as  was  the  remembrance  of  the 
bloody  games  celebrated  in  the  circus  within — Mary  would  go  up  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants,  and  at  the  further  end  of  it  the  full  sj^lendour  of  the 
city  and  Temple  would  be  before  her.  The  long  sweep  of  the  valley  of 
Hinnom  ran,  bending  eastward,  to  the  valley  of  the  Kidron,  with  the  roj-al 
gardens  where  the  two  valleys  met,  and  mansions  and  palaces  rising  on 
the  hills  beyond.  Over  Ophel  rose  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  the  Eoyal 
Porch  of  the  Temple,  a  structure  longer  and  higher  than  York  Cathedral, 
built  upon  a  solid  mass  of  masonry,  almost  ecjual  in  height  to  the  tallest  of 
our  church  spires.  Passing  up  the  noi'thern  arm  of  Hinnom,  her  road 
skirted  the  pools  of  Gihon,  shining,  as  she  looked  at  them,  in  the  morning 
light,  and  wound  round  to  the  Gennath  Gate,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
great  towers  beyond  the  palace  of  Herod,  on  the  line  of  the  oldest  of  the 
city  walls.  These  fortresses  had  all  been  built  by  Ilerod  to  overawe 
Jerusalem,  and  had  been  named  by  him ;  the  one,  after  his  friend  Hippicus, 
the  next,  after  his  brother  Phasael,  and  the  third,  after  his  wife  Mariamne, 
whom  he  had  murdered,  but  could  not  forget.  On  the  north-east,  the 
colossal,  eight-sided  Psephinos,  with  its  double  crown  of  breastworks  and 
battlements,  looked  down  on  the  city,  and  all  four  glittered  in  the  early 
light,  and  rose  high  into  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky.  Mary  was  now  within 
the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  and  had  to  thread  her  way  through  the  narroAV 
streets  of  the  lower  town,  till,  after  crossing  the  bridge  over  the  valley,  to 
TMount  Moviah,  she  at  last  reached  the  eastern  side  of  the  Temple,  where 

G 


82  THE   LIFE   OP   CHRIST. 

the  Golden  Gate,  at  the  head  of  the  long  flight  of  steps  that  led  to  the 
valley  of  the  Kidron,  opened  into  the  Court  of  the  Women. 

She  would,  doubtless,  be  early  enough  on  her  way  to  hoar  the  three 
trumpet  blasts  -which  announced  the  opening  of  the  outer  gate,  long  before 
the  call  to  prayer.  The  earlier  she  came,  the  less  chance  would  there 
be  of  meeting  anything  on  the  way  that  might  defile  her,  and  prevent  her 
entering  the  Tem2:)le.  Women  on  her  errand  commonly  rode  to  the  Temple 
on  oxen,  that  the  body  of  so  huge  a  beast  between  them  and  the  ground 
might  i^revent  any  chance  of  defilement  from  passing  over  a  sepulchre  on 
the  road,  and,  doubtless,  she  rode  either  an  ass  or  an  ox,  as  was  the  custom. 

While  the  mothers  who  wei'e  coming  that  morning  for  purification 
gradually  gathered,  Mary  would  have  to  wait  outside  the  lofty  gate  of  the 
Court  of  the  Israelites,  known  as  that  of  Nicanor,  because  the  head  and 
hands  of  the  Syrian  general  of  that  name,  slain  in  battle  Ijy  Judas  Mac- 
cabeus, had  lieen  hung  up  on  it  in  triumph.  She  had  doubtless  often 
heard,  among  the  household  stories  of  her  childhood,  how  the  haughty 
enemy  of  her  people  wagged  his  hand,  each  day,  towards  Judea  and 
Jerusalem,  with  the  words  "  Oh !  when  will  it  be  in  my  power  to  lay 
them  waste  ?  "  and  how  the  hand  that  had  thus  been  lifted  against  the 
holy  place  in  blasphemy  had  been  exposed  on  the  gate  before  her  in 
shame.  It  was  the  greatest  of  all  the  Temple  gates :  greater  even  than 
the  outer  gate  east  of  it,  known  as  the  Beautiful,  from  its  being  covered 
with  massy  silver  and  gold,  richly  carved,  or  from  its  being  made  of 
Corinthian  brass,  elaborately  chased,  and  of  far  higher  value  than  even 
gold.  It  was  known  also  as  the  Agrippa  Gate,  for  over  its  eastern,  or 
outer  side,  glittered  a  gigantic  Eoman  eagle,  underneath  which  Herod  had 
inscribed  the  name  of  his  friend  Vipsanius  Agrippa,  the  friend  and  son-in- 
law  of  Augustus,  A  flight  of  fifteen  steps,  in  crescent  shape,  formed  the 
approach  to  it,  and  marked  the  height  of  the  Court  of  the  Men,  above  that 
of  the  Women.  The  gate,  itself,  stood  at  the  inner  end  of  a  massive 
structure,  fifty  cubics  in  depth,  with  porticoes  at  the  eastern  side,  and 
chambers  above  it,  under  which  Joseph  doubtless  waited  with  Mary,  for 
husbands  could  enter  the  Court  of  the  Women  with  their  wives,  thouo-h 
no  woman  could  pass  into  the  Court  of  the  Men.  They  must  have 
shuddered  as  they  passed  underneath  the  great  golden  eagle,  the  hateful 
symbol  of  idolatry  and  Eoman  domination,  for  destroying  which,  in  the 
riots  before  Herod's  death,  so  many  of  the  flower  of  Jerusalem  were  soon 
to  die. 

After  a  time,  the  Nicanor  Gate  was  opened,  aiid  the  offerings  of  all  the 
women  who  had  come  for  purification,  which  was  much  the  same  as 
churching  is  with  us,  were  taken  from  them  by  the  Levites,  into  the  Court 
of  the  Priests,  to  be  burned  on  the  altar,  after  the  morning  sacrifice. 
Mary  might  have  had  either  a  lamb  or  a  pair  of  young  pigeons,  for  the 
rite ;  but  Joseph  was  pooi-,  and  she  Avas  contented  with  the  cheaper 
offering  of  doves,  probably  bought  from  the  Temple  officer  who  kept 
flocks  of  doves,  purchased  with  the  funds  of  the  Temple,  aiid  sold  them  to 
those  who  were  about  to  offer,  at  the  market  price.  Or  she  may  have  got 
them  in  the  outer  court,  Avhic^h  had  been  turned  into  a  noisy  bazaai*,  by 


AT   BETHLEHEM.  83 

great  numbers  of  money-changers,  sellers  of  doves,  and  even  dealers  in 
oxen,  wlio  sought  the  custom  of  the  crowds  frequenting  the  Temple, 
contrary  to  the  very  idea  of  such  a  place.  Meanwhile,  the  assembled 
mothers  spent  the  interval  before  their  offering  was  laid  on  the  altar  in 
giving  thanks  to  God  for  their  recoveiy.  After  a  time,  a  priest  came  with 
some  of  the  blood,  and,  having  sprinkled  them  with  it,  pronounced  them 
clean,  and  thus  the  rite  ended. 

Her  own  "purification,"  however,  was  not  the  only  object  of  this  first 
visit  to  the  Temple,  after  the  birth  of  her  Son.  In  the  patriarchal  times, 
the  firstborn  son  of  each  family  seems  to  have  been  the  assistant  of  the 
Family  Head  in  the  priestly  services  of  the  household.  Jewish  tradition 
has  always  supported  this  belief,  and  the  ancient  commentators  appeal  to 
various  passages  in  support  of  it.  A  great  change  was,  however,  intro- 
duced by  Moses.  Aaron  and  his  sons  were  set  apart,  with  the  wtole  tribe 
of  Levi,  as  the  only  pi-iests,  and  thus  the  priestly  services  of  the  firstljorn 
were  no  longer  required.  That  they  had  originally  been  claimed,  however, 
was  still  kept  before  the  people  by  a  law  ei'elong  announced  at  Sinai,  that 
the  eldest  male,  of  both  man  and  beast,  was  sacred  to  God.  Of  the  lower 
creatures,  some  were  to  be  offered  on  the  altar ;  others  redeemed  at  a 
fixed  price.  The  firstborn  son  was  to  be  presented  before  God  in  the 
Temple,  and  consecrated  to  His  service,  a  month  after  birth,  but  a  money 
payment  of  not  more  than  five  shekels,  aud,  in  the  case  of  a  parent's 
poverty,  of  less,  was  accepted  as  a  "  redemption  "  of  the  rights  this  in- 
volved. Rabbinical  law,  in  the  time  of  Mary,  had  made  a  refinement  on 
the  original  statute  of  Moses,  no  child  being  required  to  be  "  presented  to 
the  Lord  "  who  was  in  any  way  maimed,  or  defective,  or  had  any  blemish, 
so  as  to  be  unfit  for  a  priest — a  rule  which  throws  an  incidental  light  on 
Mai'y's  child,  such  as  might  have  been  expected.  He  must  have  been,  in 
all  points,  without  physical  blemish. 

The  details  of  the  ceremony,  as  observed  in  tlie  days  of  our  Lord,  have 
not  come  down  to  us,  but  may,  doubtless,  be  illustrated  by  those  still  in 
force ;  for  the  "  redemption  of  the  firstborn  "  is  still  observed  by  strict 
Jews  as  the  legacy  of  immemorial  tradition.  The  Hebrew  father  invites 
ten  friends  and  a  Rabbi,  who  must  be  a  Cohen — that  is,  one  reputed  to 
belong  to  the  House  of  Aaron — to  his  house,  on  the  thirty-first  day  after 
the  child's  birth.  The  infant  is  presently  brought  in  by  the  father  and 
laid  before  the  Rabbi,  with  a  sum  of  money — which,  in  England,  if  the 
father  be  ordinarily  well-to-do,  generally  amounts  to  about  twelve 
shillings.  He  then  formally  tells  the  Rabbi  that  his  wife,  who  is  an 
Israelite,  has  borne,  as  her  firstborn,  a  male  child,  which,  therefore,  he  now 
gives  to  the  Raljbi,  as  the  representative  of  God.  "  Which  would  you, 
then,  rather  do  ?  "  asks  the  Rabin,  "  give  up  your  firstborn,  who  is  the  first 
child  of  his  mother,  to  Jehovah,  or  redeem  him  for  five  shekels,  after  tha 
shekel  of  the  sanctuary,  which  is  five  gera  P  "  The  father,  of  course, 
answers  that  he  wishes  to  redeem  his  child.  "  This  is  my  firstborn,"  says 
he  ;  "  hero,  take  unto  thee  the  five  shekels  due  for  his  redemption."  As  ho 
hands  the  money  to  the  Rabbi,  lie  praises  God  for  the  day—"  Blessed  art 
Thou,  0  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  hast  sanctified  us  with 


84  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Thy  commandments,  and  commanded  lis  to  perform  the  redemption  of  a 
son.  Blessed  art  Thon,  O  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  hast 
maintained  ns,  and  jireserved  us,  to  enjoy  this  season."  The  Eabbi  then 
takes  the  money,  and  after  passing  the  coin  round  the  child's  head,  as  a 
symbol  of  redemption,  lays  his  other  hand  on  its  brow,  with  the  words— 
"  This  [child]  is  instead  of  this  [money],  and  this  [money]  instead  of  this 
[child]  :  may  this  child  be  brought  to  life,  to  the  Law,  and  to  the  fear  of 
heaven ;  and  as  he  has  been  brought  to  be  ransomed,  so  may  he  enter  into 
the  Law,  and  good  deeds."  He  then  places  both  his  hands  on  the  child's 
head,  and  prays — "  God  make  thee  as  Ephraim  and  Manasseh.  The  Lord 
bless  and  preserve  thee.  The  Lord  lift  up  His  countenance  upon  thee,  and 
give  thee  peace.  Length  of  days,  years,  and  peace  be  gathered  to  thee;  and 
God  keep  thee  from  all  evil  and  save  tliy  soul."  And  now  the  rite  is  over. 
In  a  nation  which  has  boasted,  for  two  thousand  years,  that  it  hands 
down  its  religious  customs,  from  generation  to  generation,  without  a 
shadow  of  change,  in  word  or  form,  a  practice  of  to-day  is,  doubtless,  in 
most  respects,  identical  with  its  counterpart  in  the  time  of  Maiy.  It  was, 
we  may  assume,  with  some  such  prayers  and  solemn  forms  that  Joseph  and 
Mary,  still  standing  before  the  ISTicanor  Gate,  "presented"  the  infant 
Saviour  "to  the  Lord,"  after  Maiy  had  been  declared  "clean"  by  the 
spriniding  of  the  blood  of  the  doves. 

It  was  still  morning,  and  crowds  of  men  were  entering  the  Court  of  the 
Israelites,  by  the  Nicanor  Gate,  or  jDassing  out.  The  mothers  and  fathers 
who  had  firstborn  sons  to  redeem  were  still  before  the  gate,  Maiy  and 
Joseph  among  them.  And  now  an  aged  man,  who  could  not  come  earlier 
to  his  morning  devotions,  approaches.  We  know  only  that  his  name  was 
Simeon,  a  very  common  one,  then,  among  the  Jews,  and  that  he  was  one  in 
whom  the  reign  of  form  and  rite  had  not  extinguished  true  spiritual  con- 
ceptions. He  was  "  a  just  man  and  devout,"  says  St.  Luke— an  expres- 
sion, the  force  of  which,  in  those  days,  is  seen  in  the  explanation  of  nearly 
the  same  character  given  to  the  great  high  priest  Simon.  "  He  was  called 
'  Just '  both  for  his  piety  towards  God,  and  his  charity  towards  his 
countrymen."  Simeon  must  have  been  one  who,  though  he  followed  the 
Law,  did  so  from  the  love  of  it,  and  from  the  fear  of  God,  and  was  careful 
of  its  spirit,  while,  no  doubt,  exact  in  the  countless  ritual  observaiices  then 
thought  to  constitute  "  righteousness  "  ;  one,  like  Nathanael,  "  an  Israelite 
indeed,  in  whom  was  no  guile."  Habitually  drawing  near  God,  the 
promise  had  been  fulfilled  to  this  aged  saint  that  God  would  draw  near  to 
him  :  for  "  the  Holy  Ghost  was  upon  him."  Too  old  to  care  for  longer 
life,  so  far  as  earth  alone  was  concerned,  his  heart  yet  beat  warmly  for  his 
down-trodden  nation,  and  for  man  at  large,  sunk  in  heathen  darkness.  He 
would  fain  wait  among  the  living  till  the  appearance  of  the  "  Consolation 
of  Israel  " — the  familiar  name  by  which  his  race,  in  their  deep  yearning 
for  deliverance,  had  come  to  speak  of  the  long  expected  Messiah,  as  the 
sure  restorer  of  its  glory.  He  had  a  premonition,  divinely  sent,  that  he 
should  have  this  joy,  and  had  come  this  morning  "  by  the  spirit  "  into  the 
Temple.  How  he  knew  it  we  cannot  tell,  but,  as  Mary  stood  presenting 
her  child,  he  recognised  in  Him  the  "  Messiah  of  God."     The  ceremony 


AT   BETHLEHEM.  85 

over,  his  full  heart  cannot  restrain  itself.  Tottering  towards  the  young 
raother,  he  takes  her  babe  in  his  arms,  and  give  thanks  to  God  in  words  of 
touching  beauty — •"  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
according  to  Thy  word :  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  Salvation,  which 
Thou  hast  prepared  before  the  face  of  all  peoples  :  a  light  to  lighten  the 
heathen  and  the  glory  of  Thy  people  ISrael."  Like  a  true  Jew,  he  thinks 
of  Israel  as  the  centre  of  the  Messianic  glory,  the  light  of  which  is  to 
stream,  afar,  over  the  heathen  world  around,  attracting  them  to  it. 

Turning  to  Joseph  and  Mary,  the  old  man  then  says  a  few  parting 
words,  with  prophetic  insight  of  the  future  both  of  the  child  and  its 
mother.  "  Your  child,"  says  he  to  her,  "is  destined  for  the  fall  of  many 
in  Israel,  for  many  will  reject  Him  ;  but  also  for  the  rising  again  of  many, 
who  will  believe  on  Him  and  live.  He  is  sent  for  a  sign  which  shall  be 
spoken  against,  and  will  meet  with  reproach  and  contradiction,  which  will 
reveal  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  respecting  Him  " — a  truth  too  sadly 
culminating  at  Calvary.  Mary's  own  heart  "  would  be  piei'ced  with  a 
great  sorrow." 

At  that  instant,  we  are  told,  an  aged  woman,  Amia  by  name,  of  the 
tribe  of  Asher,  and  therefore  a  Galilean,  approached  the  gate.  She  was 
eighty-four  years  old,  and  had  thus  lived  through  the  long  sad  period  of 
war,  conquest,  and  oppression,  which  had  intensified,  in  every  Jewish 
heart,  the  yearning  for  national  deliverance  by  the  promised  Messiah.  She 
must  have  remembered  the  fatal  war  between  the  Asmonean  brothers, 
Aristobulus  and  Hyrcanus,  which  had  brought  all  the  misery  of  her 
people  in  its  train,  and  she  had  likely  seen  the  legions  of  Pompcy,  when 
they  encamped  on  the  hills  round  Jerusalem.  The  rise  of  Herod  was 
a  recollection  of  her  middle  life,  and  its  dreadful  story  of  war,  murder,  and 
crime,  must  have  sunk  into  her  heart,  as  it  had  into  the  hearts  of  all  her 
race. 

Her  long  life  had  been  spent  in  pious  acts  and  services,  for,  after  she 
had  been  seven  years  a  wife,  her  husband  had  died,  leaving  her,  doubtless, 
still  very  young,  since  Hebrew  girls  married  at  twelve  or  fourteen  years  of 
age.  She  had  never  married  again,  a  fact  mentioned  by  St.  Luke  in 
accordance  with  the  feeling  of  the  day,  to  her  honour,  but  had  been,  in 
the  words  of  St.  Paul,  "  a  widow  indeed,"  "  trusting  in  God,"  and  "  con- 
tinuing in  supplications  and  prayers  night  and  day."  She  might,  in 
truth,  be  said  to  have  lived  in  the  Temple,  and  to  have  spent  her  life  in 
fastings  and  prayers  ;  having  very  likely  come  from  Galilee  to  be  near  the 
holy  place,  and  thus  able  to  give  herself  up  to  religious  exercises,  on  the 
spot,  where,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Jew,  they  were  most  sacred. 

Such  a  woman  must  have  been  well  known  in  a  place  like  Jerusalem. 
Catching  the  burden  of  Simeon's  words  as  she  passed,  she  too,  like  him, 
forthwith  thanks  God  that  the  promise  of  the  Messiah  is  now,  at  last, 
fulfilled.  There  could  have  been  few,  however,  to  whom  the  glad  tidings 
of  such  a  Saviour  were  welcome,  for  tliough  the  heart  of  the  nation  was 
burning  with  Messianic  hopes  of  a  political  kind,  we  arc  told  that  Anna 
was  able  to  announce  the  birth  of  Christ  to  all  in  Jerusalem  who  looked 
for  a  redemption  of  a  higher  type. 


86  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Eeturning  to  Bcthleliom,  Joseph  and  Mary  seem  to  have  intended  to 
settle  in  it  permanently,  for  even  after  their  retnrn  from  Egypt  they 
would  have  gone  to  it  again,  but  for  their  fear  of  Archelaus.  St.  Matthew 
speaks  of  their  living  in  a  "  house  "  when  the  Magi  came,  very  soon  after 
the  Presentation,  but  the  natural  chamber  in  the  hill-side,  which  was 
Mary's  first  shelter,  would  be  as  much  a  part  of  a  house  as  any  other.  It 
has  for  ages  been  the  custom  to  speak  of  the  birthplace  of  Jesus  as  a  cave, 
though  the  word  raises  very  different  ideas  in  our  minds  from  any  that 
could  have  been  felt  where  such  cool,  dry  recesses  are,  even  still,  ordinary 
parts  of  village  or  country  houses  of  the  humbler  kind. 

The  "  Cave  of  the  Nativity  "  now  shown  in  Bethlehem,  is  surrounded  by 
such  artificial  distractions,  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  the  possibility  of  its 
being  the  actual  scene  of  the  most  stupendous  event  in  all  history.  A 
convent,  like  a  mediceval  castle  for  strength  and  solidity,  and  of  great 
extent,  crowns  the  hill,  its  huge  buttresses  resting  on  the  shelving  rocks 
far  below.  The  village  lies  on  the  eastern  and  western  summit-crests  of 
the  hill,  at  a  height  above  the  sea  only  300  feet  lower  than  the  top  of 
Helvellyn,  and  as  high  as  the  loftiest  hill-top  in  the  Cheviot  range.  You 
may  easily  walk  round  it,  or  from  side  to  side  of  it,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
or  along  its  whole  length  in  half  that  time.  The  villagers  support  them- 
selves partly  by  field  work,  but  mainly  by  carving  rosaries,  crucifixes,  and 
models  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  in  Avood,  for  sale.  The  Cave  of  the  Nativity 
lies  on  the  east  hill,  under  a  "  Church  of  St.  Mary,"  first  built  by  the 
Emperor  Constantino,  but  often  renewed  since.  To  this  church  there  is 
joined,  on  the  north,  the  Latin  cloister  of  the  Franciscans,  with  the  Church 
of  St.  Catherine,  which  belongs  to  it,  and,  on  the  south,  the  Greek  and  the 
Armenian  cloisters. 

The  "  Church  of  the  Nativity  " — venerable  at  least  for  its  great  age— is 
Ijuilt  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  choir,  two  steps  higher  than  the  long 
nave,  includes  the  top  and  arras  of  the  cross,  and  is  divided  from  the  nave 
by  a  partition.  A  low  door,  in  the  west,  leads,  through  the  porch,  to  the 
desolate  and  cheerless  nave,  with  forty -four  pillars,  in  seven  rows,  support- 
ing the  roof,  the  rough  beams  of  which  are  uncovered,  and  look  very  bare 
and  dreary.  The  Greeks  and  Armenians  have  charge  of  this  part,  the 
Latins  being  only  allowed  to  pass  through  it  to  their  cloister.  The  former 
have  altars  in  the  choir ;  that  of  the  Greeks,  which  is  consecrated  to  "  the 
three  kings,"  standing  in  the  centre,  and  showing,  in  a  niche  under  it,  a 
star  of  white  marble,  marking  the  spot  where  the  star  of  the  wise  men 
stood  in  the  heavens  over  Bethlehem  !  The  Cave  of  the  Nativity  is  under 
the  altar,  and  is  reached,  from  both  sides  of  tlie  clioir,  by  a  flight  of  broad 
and  beautiful  marble  steps,  respectively  fifteen  and  thirteen  in  number. 
The  cave  itself  is  about  thirty-eight  feet  long,  eleven  broad,  and  nine  liigli, 
and  is  paved  with  black  and  red-veined  marble.  The  sides  are  partly  lined 
with  marble  slabs,  but  some  of  these,  on  the  north,  have  fallen  off,  and 
show  the  bare  wall,  while,  elsewhere,  curtains  of  silk  or  linen  are  hung  up 
— the  silk  apjiarently  only  at  festivals.  From  the  roof  hangs  a  row  of 
silver  lamjjs,  along  the  whole  Iciigth  of  the  cave.  The  site  of  the  manger 
itself  is  on  the  cast  side  of  the  grotto,  in  a  rounded  niche  about  eight  feet 


THE   MAGI.  87 

high  and  four  broad,  in  which  an  altar  stands.  The  pavement  of  this 
recess  is  a  few  inches  higher  than  that  of  the  cave,  and  is  formed  of 
marble  slabs  on  which  there  is  a  silver  star,  with  sparkling  rays,  inlaid 
with  precious  stones.  Along  the  edge  runs  an  inscription  which  no  one 
can  read  without  emotion — "  Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christus  natus 
est." — Here,  Jesus  Christ  was  born,  of  the  Virgin  Marj^ 

South  from  this  spot,  in  a  corner,  is  a  small  separate  cave,  three  steps 
lower  than  the  larger  one,  and  in  this  stands  the  "  Altar  of  the  Manger  "  ; 
but  as  the  wooden  manger  which  was  exhibited  in  earlier  times  was  taken 
to  Rome  in  I486  hj  Pope  Sixtus  V.,  very  little  interest  attaches  now,  even 
on  the  ground  of  antiquity,  to  the  crib  of  coloured  marble  shown  in  its 
place.  A  painting  of  the  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds  covers  the  rock 
behind.  Five  silver  lamps  swing  before  this,  and  opposite  is  the  "  Altar 
of  the  Magi,"  with  another  painting.  It  throws  additional  distrust 
over  all,  except,  perhaps,  the  central  facts  of  the  sj^ot,  that  a  door  from 
the  larger  cave  admits  into  a  long,  crooked,"rougli  opening,  like  the  galleiy 
of  a  mine,  in  which  are  various  altars,  in  recesses,  natural,  or  formed  by 
man.  You  are  shown  the  "  Chapel  of  St.  Joseph  " ;  then  that  of  "  The 
Innocents,"  under  the  altar  of  which  a  squai'e  latticed  opening  is  said  to 
lead  to  the  cave  in  which  the  bones  of  the  murdered  Innocents  were 
buried.  From  the  Chapel  of  the  Innocents  you  pass  the  altar  of  Eusebius 
of  Cremona,  who  lies  there  ;  and  in  a  cave  at  the  west  end  of  the  gallery 
you  are  shown  the  tombs  of  the  holy  Paula  and  her  daughter  Eustochium, 
with  that  of  their  friend  St.  Jerome,  whose  cell — the  scene  of  his  wonder- 
ful version  of  the  Scriptures — is  pointed  out,  a  little  beyond. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   MAGI. 


THE  two  centuries  in  which  Judea  was  a  province  of  the  Persian 
Empire  were,  perhaps,  the  happiest  time  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish, 
nation.  Enjoying  perfect  religious  liberty,  for  which  alone  they  cared, 
they  were  loyal  and  contented.  Nehemiah,  the  rebuilder  of  Jerusalem, 
was  at  the  same  time  a  Persian  pacha,  and  the  people  at  large  only 
expressed  their  common  fidelity  to  the  power  he  represented,  in  alloAving, 
with  a  liljcrality  amazing  in  their  case,  a  sculpture  of  Siisa,  the  Persian 
metropolis,  to  be  cut  over  one  of  the  gates  of  the  Temple. 

The  most  striking  characteristic  of  each  nation  furthered  this  mutual 
respect.  In  Persia  the  highest  form  of  Aryan  religion  had  been  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  highest  form  of  Semitic,  and  there  were  many  points 
in  which  mutual  symi^athy  and  regard  were  inevitable.  Both  nations  hated 
idolatry ;  indeed,  the  Persian  was  more  zealous  in  this  than  the  Jew  had 
been,  for  there  were  not  wanting,  even  in  the  exile,  Jews  who  served  idols. 
In  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman, — the  personifications  of  Light  and  Darkness,  or 
Good  and  Evil,— the  Persian,  as  it  might  seem,  had  only  developed  the 


88  THE    LIFli    OF   CHRIST. 

Jewish  doctrine,  of  Jcliovali  and  the  Evil  that  stvuggkd  to  counteract  Ilis 
beneficent  rule.  To  the  Persian,  as  to  the  Jew,  his  sacred  books  were  the 
weapon  against  darkness,  and  the  guide  to  blessedness.  They  prescribed 
commandments  and  supplied  revelations.  They  taught  a  life  after  death, 
and  future  rewards  and  punishments ;  they  disclosed  the  issue  of  the  great 
struggle  between  Good  and  Evil,  and  what  would  happen  at  the  end  of  the 
world.  Times  of  great  trial  were  to  prove  the  faithful  before  the  final  day. 
Their  blood  would  flow  like  water.  At  the  end  of  every  millennium,  how- 
ever, Ormuzd  would  send  a  prophet,  with  a  new  revelation,  and  tlius  a 
reformation  Avould  be  effected  for  the  time.  The  prophet  next  to  appear 
would  be  born  of  a  virgin,  and  after  destroying  the  works  of  Ahriman, 
would  establish  a  happy  kingdom  for  a  thousand  years.  To  aid  him  in 
this,  the  most  famous  men  of  all  times  would  appear  in  life  again.  At  the 
end  of  the  millennium,  the  resurrection,  it  w'as  taught,  would  take  place, 
through  fifty-seven  years.  Then  would  begin  the  buruing-up  of  the  w^orld 
by  fire  :  the  mountains  would  sink,  and  the  whole  globe  become  like  a  sea 
of  molten  metals.  Through  this  all  men  must  pass,  to  be  purified  from 
the  sins  still  cleaving  to  them ;  but  while  the  holy  would  do  it  with  ease, 
the  wicked  would  suffer  pain  such  as  the  same  torments  would  have  given 
them  during  life.  After  this  purification,  even  the  formerly  wicked  would 
be  freed  from  evil.  Ahriman  and  hell  Avould  be  conquered  and  pass  away; 
there  would  remain  only  the  great  communion  of  the  blessed,  who  live 
with  Ormuzd. 

As  regards  this  life,  the  Persians  were  taught  that  no  man  can  remain 
neutral,  but  must  take  the  side  either  of  good  or  evil.  To  follow  the 
former  was  not  only  right  Ijut  natural,  since  Ormuzd  is  the  Creator.  Yet 
even  he  who  chooses  the  right  does  not  always  receive  his  reward,  for  evil 
is  poAvcrful,  and  hinders  Ormuzd,  in  many  ways,  from  favouring  his 
servant  here.  The  bad,  by  the  help  of  Ahriman,  may  obtain  prospcritj^ 
and  even  secure  the  blessings  designed  for  the  good,  but  in  the  world  to 
come  this  will  no  longer  be  possible.  As  a  man  has  lived  on  earth,  so, 
they  believed,  would  be  his  reward  or  suffering  in  the  life  beyond.  He 
who  has  been  good  and  pure,  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  would  be  owned 
as  a  servant  of  Ormuzd,  and  received  into  the  fellowship  of  the  spirits  in 
light,  while  he  who  had  opposed  Ormuzd  here,  would  be  driven  down,  in 
the  life  hereafter,  to  dwell  with  Ahriman  and  his  followers,  in  thick 
darkness.  The  decision  as  to  the  class  to  which  any  one  belongs  would  be 
given  according  to  his  Avorks.  On  the  third  day  after  death,  judgment, 
they  were  taught,  will  be  held,  and  every  soul  will  have  to  jsass  over  a 
bridge,  where  the  ways  to  heaven  and  hell  divide.  Beside  it  sit  the  judges 
of  the  dead  and  weigh  the  deeds  of  each  soul  in  great  scales.  If  the  good 
bear  down  the  evil,  the  soul  goes  forward,  over  the  bridge,  to  Paradise, 
where  it  is  welcomed,  and  has  its  dwelling  till  the  Last  Judgment.  But 
when  a  wicked  soul  presents  itself,  on  the  thiixl  day  after  death,  to  try  to 
pass  over,  the  bridge  seems  too  narrow  and  slight,  the  footsteps  totter,  and 
the  soul  falls  into  the  dark  abyss  beneath.  It  is  there  received  with 
laughter  and  mockery  by  fiends,  and  tortured  with  the  bitterest  agonies 
till  the  Day  of  Judgment. 


THE    MAGI.  89 

IIow  fur  this  early  creed  retained  its  hold  among  the  Persians  in  tho 
days  of  the  Captivity  is  not  known,  and  there  are  no  grounds  for  assuming 
that  the  Jews  were  indebted  to  it,  to  any  great  extent,  for  the  development 
of  their  theology.  The  unity  of  Jehovah  was  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
dualism  of  the  Persian  system.  The  Jewish  conception  of  Satan,  like 
that  of  the  resurrection,  has  its  roots  in  the  Old  Testament,  in  which  the 
development  of  both  may  be  traced.  The  doctrine  of  the  resurrection, 
indeed,  seems  hardly  to  have  been  among  the  old  Persian  popular  beliefs, 
though  found  in  one  place  in  the  Avesta.  Jewish  ideas  respecting  angels, 
good  and  bad,  no  doubt  received  an  impulse  from  those  of  the  Persians, 
but,  as  a  whole,  the  relation  between  the  two  theologies  was  mainly  that 
of  independent  similarity  in  some  details. 

But  while  the  Jew  borrowed  very  little  from  Persian  sources,  the  exile, 
— partly  under  Persian  rule,— the  two  hundred  years  of  Persian  supremacy 
in  Judea,  and  the  lasting  connection  between  the  Jews  of  the  East  and 
their  brethren  in  Palestine,  must  have  created  a  deep  interest,  on  both 
sides,  in  faiths  which  had  so  much  in  common. 

The  extent  to  which  Parseeism  had  spread  iii  the  East,  in  the  days  of 
Christ,  cannot  be  known,  but  it  had  doubtless  diffused  itself,  more  or  less, 
over  many  regions,  by  the  movements  of  men  in  these  troublous  times. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  knowledge  of  Judaism  was  by  no  means  confined 
to  Palestine.  The  great  bulk  of  the  Jewish  nation  had  never  returned 
from  Babylon,  but  remained,  in  distinct  communities,  spread  over  the 
surface  of  that  empire.  Their  fidelity  to  their  faith  was  proved  by  their 
having  supported  the  colony  at  Jerusalem  till  it  no  longer  needed  their 
help.  They  looked  to  the  Temple  as  their  religious  centre,  contributed 
largely  to  its  funds,  and  received  their  ecclesiastical  instructions  from  its 
authorities.  The  Babylonian  Jew  prided  himself  on  the  iiurity  of  his 
descent.  What  the  Hebrews  of  Judea  boasted  they  Averc,  compared  to 
those  of  other  countries,  the  Babylonian  Hebrew  claimed  to  be  to  tho 
Judean — •"  like  pure  flour  compared  to  dough."  From  Babylon,  the  Jew 
had  spread  through  every  region  of  the  East,  and  wherever  he  went  he 
became  a  zealous  missionary  of  his  faith.  Various  causes  had  led  to  tho 
same  wide  dispersion  in  the  West,  with  the  same  result.  The  number  of 
[u-oselytes  gained  over  the  world  by  this  propaganda  was  incredible.  The 
West  was  as  full  of  Jews  as  the  East.  Egypt,  and  other  parts  of  Africa, 
had  a  vast  Jewish  population.  To  use  the  words  of  Josephus,  the 
habitable  globe  was  so  full  of  Jews,  that  there  was  scarcely  a  corner  of  the 
Roman  empire  where  they  might  not  be  found.  The  great  synagogue  at 
Alexandria  was  so  large  that,  if  we  can  believe  the  Talmud,  the  Hazan,  or 
Reader,  had  to  make  use  of  a  handkerchief,  as  a  signal,  when  the  congre- 
gation Avere  to  repeat  their  "Amen." 

Incidental  proofs  of  the  success  of  Jewish  proselytisra  are  numei'ous. 
Cicero,  and  Horace,  Juvenal,  Tacitus,  and  Seneca  alike  give  vent  to  the 
irritation  everywhere  felt,  at  the  numbers  of  Greeks  and  Romans  thus  won 
over  to  what  they  regarded  as  a  hateful  superstition.  Exemption  from 
military  service  granted  to  the  Jews,  trade  ])rivileges  they  si)ccially 
enjoyed,  marriage,  and  other  inducements,  swelled  the  list  of  proselytes  ia 


90  THE   LIFE    or   CHRIST. 

every  part.  "  The  Jewish  faith,"  says  Seneca,  "  is  now  I'eceired  over  every 
land :  the  conqnorcd  have  given  laws  to  the  conqueror."  "  This  race," 
says  Dio  Cassius,  "  has  been  repeatedly  checked  by  the  Romans,  yet  it 
has  increased  amazingly,  so  that  it  has  assumed  the  greatest  boldness." 
Joscphus  tells  us  that  in  Antioch  a  great  multitude  of  Greeks  were 
constantly  coming  forward  as  proselytes.  Still  further  east,  it  was  the 
same,  for  St.  Luke  records  that  proselytes  thronged  to  the  feasts  at 
Jerusalem  from  provinces  of  the  empire  north  of  the  Mediterranean,  such 
as  Pontus,  Asia,  Phrygia,  Pamphylia,  and  Cappadocia;  from  Rome  itself; 
from  its  southern  territories,  such  as  Egypt,  Arabia,  Crete,  and  the  parts 
of  Libya  about  Cyrene ;  from  its  eastern  extrcinities,  and  even  from  lands 
beyond— Mesopotamians,  Parthians,  Medes,  and  Elamites,— dwellers  in 
the  vast  regions  reaching  from  the  Caspian  Sea  to  the  Persian  Gulf,  on  the 
north  and  south,  and  even  further  to  the  east.  The  infiuence  of  Judaism 
extended  into  all  lands. 

Among  the  Jewish  ideas  diffused  far  and  near  by  this  universal  agency, 
none  would  find  so  easy  and  wide  a  circulation  as  that  which,  above  all 
others,  filled  the  mind  and  heart  of  every  Jew  in  that  age — the  expected 
appearance  of  a  great  prince,  of  whom  they  spoke  as  the  Messiah  or 
"  Anointed."  No  indication  of  popular  feeling  can  be  more  sure  than 
that  supplied  by  the  literature  of  a  period  ;  and  Jewish  litei-ature,  from  the 
date  of  Daniel  to  the  age  of  Christ,  was  more  and  more  completely  Mes- 
sianic. The  Book  of  Enoch,  the  Jewish  Sibylline  books,  the  Psalter  of 
Solomon,  the  Ascension  of  Moses,  the  Ascension  of  Isaiah,  the  Fourth  Book 
of  Esdras,  the  Targums  of  Onkelos  and  Jonathan,  and  other  writings  of 
later  Judaism,  strove  to  sustain  and  rouse  the  nation,  in  those  dark  days, 
by  prophetic  anticipations  of  Messianic  deliverance.  Burning  hope  glows 
through  them,  like  fire  through  clouds,  revealing  the  feverish  concentration 
of  heart  and  thought  of  all  Israel  on  this  one  grand  expectation. 

The  restlessness  of  Judea  was  only  another  symptom  of  this  universal 
tension  of  the  popular  mind.  Patriotic  hatred  of  foreign  rule,  and  religious 
zeal  against  the  introduction  of  heathen  manners,  kept  the  country  in  a  con- 
tinual ferment,  which  was  heightened  at  every  festival  by  assurances  of 
the  Rabbis,  priests,  and  fanatical  "  jirophets,"  that  Jehovah  would  not  much 
longer  endure  the  intrusion  of  the  heathen  into  His  own  Land.  This 
temper  of  the  people  forced  Herod  to  erect  five  times  as  many  fortresses 
in  Judea  as  were  required  in  Galilee  ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  them,  the  robbers 
and  bandits  of  the  Judean  hills  never  ceased  to  make  war  against  the 
existing  government,  in  the  name  of  Jehovah.  Blind  superstition  reigned. 
The  bigoted  masses  were  continually  deceived  by  pretended  Messiahs,  who 
led  them,  at  one  time,  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  to  see  the  walls  of  the  now 
heathen  Jerusalem  fall  down  at  the  word  of  the  projohet ;  at  another,  to 
the  Jordan,  to  pass  through,  dryshod,  like  their  fathers  ;  at  a  third,  as  if 
nothing  could  warn  them,  into  the  wilderness,  to  wait  for  the  signs  of  the 
Son  of  Man  predicted  by  Daniel.  What  must  have  been  the  contagious 
effect  of  such  a  state  of  things  on  the  multitudes  of  Jews  and  proselytes 
from  every  country,  who  yearly  visited  Jerusalem  ?  Josephus,  perhaps 
with  some  exaggeration,  tells  us  that,  at  many  feasts,  there  were  not  loss 


THE    ilAGI.  91 

than  throe  millions  of  pilgrims.  How  must  tliey  have  spread  over  the 
Tvhole  earth  the  expectation  of  a  great  JeTvishkingAvho  was  to  conquer  the 
world!  for  this  the  Messiah  was  to  accomplish.  It  is  no  wonder  thatJosephns, 
Tacitus,  and  Suetonius  should  record  the  fact,  though  the  Jewish  historian 
in  mean  flattery,  and  the  others  from  the  turn  of  affairs,  applied  it  to 
Vespasian. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  what  might  have  been  expected,  when  St.  Matthew 
tells  us  that  strangers  from  the  East  came,  soon  after  His  birth,  to  visit 
the  infant  .Jesus.  Any  real  or  fancied  occasion,  which  might  lead  to  the 
belief  that  the  prince,  so  universally  looked  for,  had  actually  appeared, 
was  well-nigh  certain  to  call  forth  such  an  incident. 

The  simple  notice  given  us  throws  no  further  light  on  these  earliest 
pilgrims  from  the  great  Gentile  world,  than  is  afforded  by  the  title  Magi,  and 
the  intimation  that  they  were  led  to  undertake  their  journey  to  Bethlehem 
by  some  mysterious  appearances  in  the  heavens. 

The  worship  of  the  heavenly  bodies  had  been  established  for  immemorial 
ages  in  the  East,  where  the  transparent  atmosphere  reveals  the  splendours 
of  the  universe,  both  by  night  and  day,  with  a  glory  unknown  to  duller 
regions.  In  ages  when  science  was  yet  unknown,  and  motion  was  every, 
where  assumed  as  the  result  of  inherent  life,  it  was  almost  inevitable  to 
regard  the  sun  as  the  lord  of  day,  and  the  moon  and  stars  as  ruling 
the  night.  From  this  it  was  only  a  single  step  to  superstition.  "  Magic," 
as  Professor  Bastian  observes,  "  is  the  physics  of  the  children  of  nature." 
It  is  the  first  step  towards  induction,  and  misleads,  only  by  assuming  that 
accidental,  or  independent,  coincidence  or  succession,  is  necessarily  cause 
and  effect.  Like  children,  men,  in  simple  ages,  jump  to  conclusions  from 
isolated  observations,  nor  is  the  power  of  slow  and  careful  generalization, 
from  a  wide  range  of  facts,  attained,  till  very  much  later. 

The  phenomena  of  the  daily  and  nightly  heavens  thus  led  very  early, 
in  the  East,  to  a  belief  in  astrology ;  the  patient  scientific  faculty  being 
yet  wanting  which  would,  hereafter,  develop  that  illusive  science  into 
astronomy,  as,  in  a  later  age,  it  raised  alchemy  into  chemistry.  The  stars 
were  supposed,  then,  as  they  have  been  till  recent  times,  to  exercise 
supreme  influence  over  human  life  and  the  course  of  nature,  and  from  this 
belief  a  vast  sj'stem  of  imaginary  results  was  elaborated.  The  special 
power  of  each  star,  alone  or  in  conjunction  with  others,  over  health  and 
sickness,  prosperity  or  trouble,  life  or  death,  the  affairs  of  nations,  and  the 
phenomena  of  nature,  was  supposed  to  have  been  discovered ;  and  this 
power  was  believed  to  affect  the  future  as  well  as  the  present.  Diodorus 
Siculus,  who  lived  in  the  generation  before  Christ,  says  of  the  astrologers 
of  the  East,  "  They  think  the  noblest  study  is  that  of  the  five  stars  called 
planets,  which  they  call  interpreters.  This  name  they  give  them,  because 
other  stars  do  not  wander  like  them,  but  have  a  fixed  course,  while  these 
have  paths  of  their  own,  and  predict  things  to  be  ;  thus  interpreting  to  men 
the  will  of  the  gods.  For  they  say  that  they  portend  some  things  by  their 
rising,  others  by  their  setting,  and  still  others  by  their  colour,  to  those  who 
study  them  diligently.  For,  at  one  time,  they  say  they  foretell  the  violence 
of  storms ;   at  another  the  excess  of  rains  or  of  heat,  the  appearance  of 


92  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

comets,  eclipses  of  the  sun  or  moon,  earthquakes,  and  indeed,  every  change 
in  the  sky,  either  fortunate  or  the  reverse,  not  only  to  nations  and  districts, 
but  to  kings  and  common  people."  The  position  of  the  stars  at  a  child's 
birth  was  held  to  determine  its  future  fate  or  fortune,  and,  hence,  to  cast 
nativities  early  became  one  of  the  most  important  functions  of  astrologers. 

This  science  was  very  early  cultivated  among  the  races  inhabiting  the 
Mesopotamian  plains.  Like  all  higher  knowledge  in  simple  times,  it  was 
in  the  hands  of  a  priestly  caste,  known  as  Magi,  a  word  which  seems  of 
Aryan  derivation.  This  order  flourished  among  the  Medes,  Babylonians, 
and  Persians,  but  it  is  chiefly  famous  in  connection  with  Persia,  and  seems 
as  if  it  had  risen  among  the  Aryan  races,  and  had  only  mingled  as  a 
foreign  element  in  the  Semitic  civilization  of  Babylon. 

We  first  meet  the  title  as  that  of  one  of  the  Chaldean  officials  sent  by 
Nebuchadnezzar  to  Jerusalem — the  Rabmag,  or  head  of  the  Magi ;  and  in 
the  Book  of  Daniel,  we  find  the  caste  divided  into  five  classes,  as  the  astro- 
logers and  dream  interpreters  of  Babylon.  Their  origin,  however,  iden- 
tified them  with  the  purer  faith  of  Persia,  much  more  than  with  a  corrupt 
idolatry,  and  hence  they  especially  flourished  under  the  Persian  rule.  In 
later  times  the  name  lost  its  early  prestige,  from  the  growth  of  lower 
magical  arts,  practised  as  the  order  degenerated,  so  that,  in  the  New 
Testament,  it  is  applied,  excepting  in  the  case  of  those  who  came  to  visit 
the  infant  Saviour,  only  to  two  "  sorcerers  " — Simon  Magus,  and  one  Bar- 
Jesus. 

Soon  after  the  presentation  of  our  Lord  in  the  Temple,  a  strange  report 
spread  through  Jerusalem.  Members  of  the  old  priestly  caste  of  Persia 
had  "  come  from  the  East,"  inquiring  where  they  could  find  a  new-born 
King  of  the  Jews,  whose  star,  they  said,  they  had  seen  in  the  East.  It 
was  quite  in  keeping  with  Jewish  belief  to  find  indications  of  great  events 
in  the  appearances  of  the  heavens,  for  their  ancient  Scriptures  spoke  of  a 
star  that  should  come  out  of  Jacob,  and  they  had  long  referred  the 
prophecy  to  their  expected  Messiah.  It  was,  indeed,  universally  believed 
that  extraordinary  events,  especially  the  birth  and  death  of  great  men, 
were  heralded  by  appearances  of  stars,  and  still  more  of  comets,  or  by 
conjunctions  of  the  heavenly  bodies.  Thus  Suetonius  tells  us  that  at  the 
death  of  Ctesar  "  a  hairy  star  shone  continuously  for  seven  days,  rising 
about  the  eleventh  houi*,''  and  Josephus  relates  that  for  a  whole  year 
before  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  a  star,  in  the  shape  of  a  sword — doubtless  a 
comet — hung  over  the  doomed  city.  A  hundred  and  thirty  years  after 
Christ's  birth,  a  false  Messiah,  in  Hadrian's  reign,  assumed  the  title  of 
Bar-Cochba^"the  son  of  the  star" — in  allusion  to  the  star  to  come  out 
of  Jacob.  The  Jews  had  akeady,  long  before  Christ's  day,  dabbled  in 
astrology,  and  the  various  forms  of  magic  which  became  connected  witli 
it.  They  were  skilled  in  mysterious  combinations  of  letters  and  numbers, 
which  they  used  as  talismans  and  amulets,  to  heal  the  sick,  to  drive  aAvay 
evil  spirits,  and  bring  frightful  curses  when  wished,  and  they  even 
affirmed  that  some  of  their  spells  could  draw  the  moon  from  heaven  or 
open  the  abyss  beneath  the  earth.  Such  practices  dated  among  them  as 
far  back  as  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great.     They  were  much  given  to 


THE    MAGI.  93 

cast  horoscopes  from  the  numerical  value  of  a  name.  Everj-whcre  through 
the  whole  Roman  empire,  Jewish  magicians,  dream  expounders,  and 
sorcerers,  were  found.  Josephus  ascribes  the  banishment  of  the  Jews 
from  Rome  to  the  acts  of  impostors  of  this  kind.  Nor  did  their  superstition 
stop  here.  They  were  skilled  in  the  mysteries  of  astrology  itself.  "  The 
planets  give  wisdom  and  riches,"  says  the  Talmud,  and  it  adds,  in  other 
passages, — "  The  life  and  portion  of  children  hang  not  on  righteousness 
but  on  their  star."  "  The  planet  of  the  day  has  no  virtue,  but  the  planet 
of  the  hour  (of  nativity)  has  much.  Those  who  are  born  under  the  sun  are 
beautiful  and  noble-looking,  frank  and  open ;  those  born  under  Venus,  rich 
and  amatory ;  under  Mercury,  strong  in  memory  and  wise ;  under  the 
moon,  feeble  and  inconstant ;  under  Jupiter,  just ;  under  Mars,  fortunate." 
"  The  calculation  of  the  stars  is  the  joy  of  the  Rabbi."  In  another  passage, 
indeed,  a  Rabbi  tells  an  incjuirer  that  "  there  is  no  planet  that  rules  Israel," 
but  the  explanation  added  shows  a  pride  that  only  a  Jew  could  express — . 
"  The  sons  of  Israel  are  themselves  stars."  Many  Rabbis  gave  themselves 
to  astrology. 

Belief  in  the  influence  of  the  stars  over  life  and  death,  and  in  special 
portents  at  the  birth  of  great  men,  survived,  indeed,  to  recent  times. 
Chaucer  abounds  in  allusions  to  it.  He  attributes  the  great  rain  and  the 
pestilence  of  ISiS  and  1350  to  an  extraordinary  conjunction  of  Saturn  with 
other  planets,  and  in  the  Man  of  Lawes  Tale  he  says  : — 

"In  sterres  many  a  wynter  therebyfore. 
Was  write  the  deth  of  Ector  and  AcLillca, 
Of  Pompe,  Julius,  cr  they  were  i-bore ; 
The  stryf  of  Thebes,  and  of  Ercules, 
Of  Sampson,  Turnus,  and  of  Socrates 
The  deth." 

Still  later,  Shakespcre  tells  us— 

"  When  beggars  die  there  are  no  comets  seen ; 
The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  dealh  of  princes;" 

and  Bedford  at  Henry  V.'s  funeral  is  made  to  say — 

"  Comets,  importing  change  of  time  and  states. 
Brandish  your  crystal  tresses  in  the  sky. 
And  with  them  scourge  the  bad  revolting  stars 
That  have  consented  unto  Henry's  death." 

The  special  phenomena  that  led  the  Magi  to  undertake  their  journey  have 
been  elsewhere  stated.  That  successive  conjunctions  of  three  planets  in 
the  sign  of  the  Zodiac,  Pisces,  which  was  believed  by  the  Jews  to  be  that  in 
which  a  similar  conjunction  happened  before  the  birth  of  Moses,  and  in 
which  another  was  to  occur  before  the  birth  of  the  Messiah,  sliould  have 
roused  the  attention  of  men  to  whom  the  motions  of  the  planets  were 
revelations  from  heaven,  was  only  natural.  Doubtless  they  had  heard  in 
their  own  country  such  a  belief  expressed  by  Jews,  and  traced  to  the  \ 
prophecy  of  Balaam,  one  of  their  own  caste,  and  from  their  own  parts.  \' 
When,  in  addition  to  such  significant  facts,  at  a  time  when  all  men  were 
looking  for  a  great  Jewish  prince,  a  comet  appeared  soon  after,  nothing 
could  be  more  in  keeping  than  that  men,  to  whom  such  i)henomcna  were 


94  THE    L11''E    OF    CHRIST. 

the  voice  of  God,  should  set  out  to  pay  homage  to  the  newborn  King  who 
was  to  rule  the  world. 

At  the  time  when  the  Magi  arrived,  Herod,  now  an  old  man,  was  sinking 
into  tlie  last  stages  of  disease,  but  was  still  as  jealous  and  afraid  of 
attemjots  against  his  throne  as  ever.  Its  steps  were  wet  with  the  blood  of 
his  best-loved  wife,  his  sons,  his  benefactor,  and  of  the  flower  of  the  nation, 
murdered  to  make  it  secure.  Like  our  own  William  the  Conqueror,  or 
Henry  VIII.,  or  like  Alexander  the  Great,  or  Nero,  or  Tiberius,  his 
character  had  grown  darker  in  his  later  years,  and  now,  in  his  old  age,  he 
sat  alone  in  his  new  palace, — amidst  splendour  of  architecture  greater  if 
possible  than  that  of  the  Temple, — lonely,  hated  and  hating,  his  subjects 
waiting  impatiently,  in  veiled  rebellion,  for  his  deatli.  In  his  own  court, 
shortly  before,  a  plot  had  been  discovered  Avhich  liad  filled  all  Jerusalem 
with  commotion.  The  Pharisees,  to  the  number  of  6,000,  had  refused  to 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  their  loaders,  whom  the  people  believed 
gifted  with  the  power  of  prophecy,  had  gone  the  length  of  asserting,  that 
God  had  determined  that  Herod  and  his  family  should  be  S]3eedily  driven 
from  the  throne,  to  make  way  for  the  Messiah.  To  secure  the  fulfilment 
of  this  prediction,  the  influence  of  their  firm  supporter,  the  wife  of 
Pheroras,  his  brother,  was  used,  to  carry  the  plot  inside  the  palace,  among 
the  ladies  of  the  court.  Bagoas,  the  eunuch,  as  most  easily  approached, 
from  his  connection  with  the  harem,  was  made  their  tool,  and,  with  him,  a 
youth  named  Cams,  the  loveliest  person  of  his  day,  but  loathsomely 
immoral.  Bagoas  was  won  over  to  believe  that  he  would  be  the  father  of 
the  coming  Messiah,  but  Herod  found  out  the  whole,  and  the  conspiracy 
was  quenched  in  blood.  ISTo  wonder  that,  as  St.  Matthew  tells  us,  "  he  was 
troubled,  and  all  Jerusalem  with  him,"  when  the  news  spread  of  strangers 
having  come  on  such  an  errand  as  that  of  tlie  Magi.  To  Herod  their  arrival 
was  a  fresh  cause  of  jealous  terror:  to  Jerusalem  a  possible  ground  of  hope. 

Herod  had  often  before  shown  the  craft  bred  by  habitual  suspicion,  and 
was  too  clever  to  take  any  rash  steps  now.  Summoning  the  heads  of  the 
priesthood  and  the  "  scribes  "  to  his  palace,  he  demanded  of  them  where 
Christ  should  be  born. 

Jewish  theology  had  already  determined,  correctly,  that  the  Messiah 
was  to  be  of  the  stock  of  Judah,  which  had  from  the  first  challenged  the 
headship  of  the  tribes,  and  had  been  supreme  since  Ephraim's  captivity 
in  Assyria.  It  boasted  of  David,  the  ancestor  and  the  prototype  of  the 
Messiah,  and  the  words  of  Jacob  that  the  "  sceptre  "  should  "  not  depart 
from  it,  until  Shiloh  come,"  or,  as  it  may  be  translated,  from  the  Greek 
version,  "till  he  comes  to  whom  the  dominion  belongs,"  had  long  been 
understood  to  refer  to  the  Messiah.  "How  fair  is  the  King  Messiah," 
says  the  Targum  on  the  passage,  "who  will  rise  from  the  house  of 
Judah  ! "  The  words  of  Zechariah,  "  The  Lord  of  Hosts  hath  visited  the 
house  of  Judah,  and  hath  made  them  as  His  goodly  horse  in  the  battle," 
are  also  applied  by  another  Targum  to  the  Messiah.  "A  king  will  rise 
from  the  children  of  Jesse,"  says  the  same  Targum  elsewhere,""  and  the 
Messiah  will  spring  from  his  children's  children."  Hence  "  the  Son  of 
David  "  was  a  constant  name  for  this  expected  Prince. 


THE   MAGI.  95 

As  a  descendant  of  David,  Bethlehem,  David's  town,  was  naturally 
regarded  as  the  place  of  his  birth,  and  hence  the  passage  in  Micah, 
adduced  by  the  priests  and  scribes,  is  also  quoted  by  the  Targums.  "  An 
Arab  said  to  a  Jew  at  his  plough,"  says  the  Talmud,  " '  Your  Messiah  is 
born ! '  '  What  is  his  name  ? '  asked  the  Jew.  '  Menaheni,  the  son  of 
Hezekiah.'  '  Where  was  he  born  ?  '  asked  the  Jew  again.  *  In  the  king's 
castle  at  Bethlehem  Judah,'  answered  the  Arab." 

Long  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  it  had  been  felt  that  the  time  for  the 
advent  of  the  Messiah  was  fulfilled,  and  his  non-appearance  even  led  to  the 
fanciful  idea  that  he  was  already  born,  but  kept  himself  hidden  in  some 
unknown  part.  "  We  know  this  man  whence  he  is,''  said  the  Jews,  long 
after,  of  Jesus,  "  but  when  the  Christ  cometh,  no  man  knoweth  whence  He 
is  !  "  "  Thou,  O  anointed  one  of  Israel,"  cries  the  Targum,  "  Thou  who 
art  hidden  on  account  of  the  sins  of  the  people  of  Zion,  Thine  shall  bo  the 
kingdom ! " 

The  prophecy  of  Balaam  had  led  to  the  same  belief  among  the  Jews,  as 
amongst  the  Eastern  Magi — that  a  great  star  would  appear  in  heaven 
when  the  Messiah  came.  "  AVhen  the  Messiah  is  to  be  revealed,"  says  the 
book  Sohar,  "a  star  will  rise  in  the  east,  shining  in  great  brightness, 
and  seven  other  stars  round  it  will  fight  against  it  on  every  side."  "  A 
star  will  rise  in  the  east  which  is  the  star  of  the  Messiah,  and  will  remain 
in  the  east  fifteen  days."  The  rising  of  Bar-Cochl)a,  "  the  son  of  the  star," 
was  a  terrible  illustration  of  this  belief. 

To  hear  of  Magi  coming  from  the  East— the  country  of  Balaam,  the 
reputed  founder  of  the  caste,  announcing  the  appearance  of  the  star  of  the 
Messiah,  which  they  themselves  expected,  was,  hence,  fitted  to  rouse  the 
Rabbinical  world  of  Jerusalem  to  the  highest  excitement.  They  had 
already  a  wondrous  estimate  of  the  great  soothsayer,  for  Philo,  a  contem- 
joorary  of  Christ,  speaks  of  him  as  "famous  for  his  gift  of  prophecy." 
''  He  was  skilled,"  says  he,  "  in  every  branch  of  the  black  art.  He  had 
learned  the  greatest  names  (names  of  angels  and  of  God,  to  be  used  in 
magic),  through  his  knowledge  of  the  flight  of  ])irds,  and  did  much  that 
was  wonderful  by  their  means.  He  predicted  rain  in  the  hottest  time  of 
summer ;  heat  and  drought  in  the  midst  of  winter ;  iinf ruitfulness  when 
the  fields  were  greenest ;  plenty  in  years  of  famine,  and  the  overflowing 
or  drying  up  of  streams  ;  the  removal  of  pestilence ;  and  a  thousand  other 
things,  the  foretelling  of  which  got  him  boundless  fame,  which  spread 
even  to  this."  The  Rabbis  believed,  indeed,  that  Balaam  himself  was  a 
Rabbi,  who  taught  disciples  the  black  art,  and  that  the  Magi,  his  suc- 
cessors, knew  his  prophecy  of  the  star  of  tlie  Messiah,  through  the 
tradition  of  his  schools." 

Having  learned  the  expected  birthplace  of  the  Messiah,  which  he  would 
himself  have  known,  had  he  been  a  Jew  and  not  an  Idumcan,  Herod  sent 
for  the  Magi  and  made  every  inquiry,  under  the  pretext  that  he,  also, 
wished  to  do  homage  to  the  young  child.  But  very  different  thoughts 
were  in  his  heart.  A  descendant  of  David  was  not  likely  to  be  spared  by 
the  man  who  had  murdered  the  last  of  the  Asnioneaus.  The  hope  of  tlie 
world  was  not  to  perish  thus,  however,  for  the  Magi  having  paid  their 


96  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

visit  to  Betlilelicm,  and  presented  gifts  to  Him,  as  all  Easterns  do  ^\-hon 
they  come  before  princes  or  the  great,  a  dream,  sent  from  aliove,  led  tlicm 
to  return  to  tlieir  own  country  without  revisiting  Jerusalem. 

Balked  in  his  purpose  so  far,  Herod  was  not  the  man  to  stop  at  half- 
measures.  A  few  murders  more  were  nothing.  The  most  thorough 
precautions  must  be  taken.  A  band  of  soldiers  was  therefore  sent  to 
Bethlehem  with  orders  to  kill  every  male  child  near  the  supposed  age  of 
the  infant  ho  dreaded.  Josephus  is  silent  about  this  slaughter,  but  this 
needs  not  surprise  us,  for  what  was  a  single  deed  of  blood,  in  a  mountain 
village,  among  the  crimes  of  Herod  ?  Nor  is  it  alone  in  the  omissions  of 
the  historian,  for  his  whole  history  of  the  centuries  after  the  Return  omits 
far  more  than  it  tells. 

Joseph  and  Mary  had  left  Bethlehem  before  this  tragedy,  and  had  fled 
to  the  friendly  shelter  of  Egypt,  at  a  Avarning  divinely  given.  How  long 
they  remained  there  is  not  known.  All  Palestine  was  under  Herod,  so 
that  he  could  have  reached  them  in  any  part  of  it,  but  in  Egypt  the 
fugitives  were  safe.  It  was,  moreover,  almost  another  Judea,  for  the 
favour  shown  to  their  race  by  the  Ptolemies  had  induced  as  many  as  a 
million  of  Jews  to  settle  in  the  Nile  Valley,  and  of  the  five  quarters  of 
Alexandria,  with  300,000  free  citizens,  Jews  occupied  more  than  two. 
They  had  had  a  temple  of  their  own  at  Leontopolis,  in  the  Delta,  for  about 
100  years,  though  they  preferred  to  go  up  to  that  at  Jerusalem ;  the 
Greek  translation  of  the  Bible,  which  had  already  widely  taken  the  place 
of  the  Hebrew  original,  had  been  made  in  Egypt,  and  the  Egyptian 
Rabbis,  by  their  efforts  to  turn  Judaism  into  a  philosophic  system  which 
should  win  it  the  favour  of  the  cultivated  Romans  and  Greeks,  had 
founded  a  new  school  of  Jewish  theology,  which  was,  hereafter,  to  in- 
fluence even  Christianity. 

It  has  been  usual  to  suppose  that  Herod  died  in  the  spring  of  the  j'ear 
750 — that  is,  within  a  few  months  after  the  birth  of  Christ.  But  there 
seem  to  be  some  reasons  for  believing  that  he  lived  till  753. 

Josephus  says  that  he  died  shortly  before  the  Passover,  and  that  an 
eclipse  of  the  moon  happened  not  long  before.  In  the  year  750  such  an 
eclipse  happened  on  the  13th  of  March;  but  if  he  died  at  the  end  of  that 
month,  or  in  April,  there  must  have  been  a  crowding  of  events  into  the 
short  interval,  beyond  what  seems  possible. 

It  appears,  however,  that  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  on  the  night 
of  January  the  10th,  in  the  year  753,  and  it  is  urged  that  this  suits  the 
facts  much  better,  by  giving  three  months  instead  of  one  for  the  incidents 
mentioned  by  Josej^hus,  even  if  Christ  were  born  three  years  latei-,  and  by 
leaving  ample  time  for  those  related  by  Matthew  and  Luke.  A  passage 
has  been  found  in  a  Calendar  of  the  Feasts,  in  the  Talmud  which  seems 
to  support  this  later  date.  "  The  1st  Shebct  (or  21-th  of  January)  is  a  day 
of  double  good  fortune  as  the  day  of  the  death  of  Herod  and  of  Jannai, 
for  it  is  joy  before  God  when  the  wicked  are  taken  from  this  world."  If 
this  be  right,  the  eclipse  happened  on  the  10th  of  January,  Herod's  death 
on  the  21th,  and  there  was  ample  time  before  April  for  the  Ijurial  and  all 
that  followed,  wliich  must  have  required  weeks. 


THE    MAGI.  97 

If,  then,  Herod  bad  yet  nearly  three  years  to  live  after  the  birth  of 
Christ,  Mary  and  her  husband  must  have  stayed  in  Egypt  that  length  of 
time.  Nor  would  it  be  difficult  for  Joseph  to  find  support,  as  the  difilerent 
classes  of  Jewish  workmen  in  Egypt  were  associated  in  guilds,  which 
maintained  those  out  of  employment,  much  as  trades'  unions  do  now.  The 
goldsmiths,  the  silversmiths,  the  nail-makers  and  needle-makers,  the 
coppersmiths,  and  the  weavers,  are  specially  mentioned  as  being  banded 
together  in  such  associations,  which  supported  any  stranger  of  their 
respective  crafts  till  he  found  work.  The  workers  in  wood,  in  all  probability, 
had  such  a  union  as  well ;  and  Joseph,  moreover,  though  called  a  carpenter 
in  the  Gospels,  may  have  been  more,  for  the  word  does  not  necessarily 
mean  a  worker  in  wood  only,  but  a  waggon  smith  and  other  occupations 
as  well.  In  its  Hebrew  sense,  it  may  mean,  indeed,  any  kind  of  trade 
which  uses  cutting  instruments,  and  is  employed  indifferently  of  workers 
in  metal,  wood,  or  stone. 

Egypt,  though  thus  filled  with  a  Jewish  population,  was,  however,  no 
land  for  Joseph  and  Mary,  nor,  above  all,  for  the  infant  Jesus.  ISTeithcr 
the  Greek  inhabitants  of  the  towns  and  cities,  nor  the  Egyptian  peasantry, 
were  very  friendly  to  the  strangers  who,  in  hundreds  of  thousands,  in- 
truded into  the  Nile  Valley.  The  old  hatred  between  the  land  of  Mizraim 
and  the  sons  of  Israel  seemed  still,  in  some  measure,  to  survive  on  both 
sides.  The  Jews  hated  the  Egyptian  priesthood,  with  its  worthless  secrets 
and  its  ridiculous  symbols,  and  prided  themselvL-s,  as  the  prophets  had 
done  of  old,  on  their  purer  faith.  They  saw,  in  Egypt,  the  incarnation  of 
the  most  corrupt  heathenism.  The  command,  "Thou  shalt  make  no  like- 
ness or  graven  image,"  was  nowhere  mocked  to  such  an  extent  as  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile.  Even  Philo  makes  the  remark  that  the  Egyptian 
religion  was  the  most  grovelling  of  all  forms  of  idolatry,  since  it  did  not 
look  to  the  heavens  for  objects  of  worship,  but  to  the  earth,  and  the  slime 
of  the  Nile,  with  its  creatures.  Josephus  derides  the  system  which  wor- 
shipped crocodiles  and  apes,  vipers  and  cats ;  and  even  the  Eoman  Juvenal 
scoffed  at  a  race  who  grew  their  divinities  in  their  kitchen  garden.  The 
Apostle  Paul  evidently  had  Egyptian  heathenism  in  his  mind  when  he 
speaks  of  idolatry  as  running  to  the  foul  licence  of  changing  the  image 
of  the  invisible  God  into  the  likeness  of  men,  of  birds,  of  four-footed 
beasts,  and  creeping  things.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Jews  suffered 
from  the  traditional  hatred  of  their  race  by  the  Egyptians,  in  the 
repetition  of  scandals  and  shameful  calumnies  against  them,  which  had 
survived  since  the  Exodus.  It  was  said  that  the  children  of  Israel, 
whom  Moses  led  out  of  Egypt,  were  lepers,  whom  Pharaoh  had  banislied 
from  the  country ;  and  Greeks  and  natives,  catching  at  the  bitter  slander, 
strove  which  should  turn  it,  and  others  equally  contemptuous,  with  most 
effect,  against  their  Jewish  fellow-citizens,  whom  all  equally  disliked. 
The  very  fact  that  the  Eomans  had  granted  special  favours  to  the  Jews, 
and  that  they  were  rivals  in  trade,  was,  indeed,  itself,  sufficient  to  account 
for  such  an  attitude  of  acrid  raillery  and  depreciation.  Things  had 
at  last  come  to  open  rupture,  and  the  Jewish  cominunity  of  Alexandria 
(ooked  forward  only  to  ultimate  expulsion  and  ruin.     It  is  no  wonder, 

H 


98  THE   LIFE    OF   GHEIST. 

tlierefore,  that  Joseph  and  Mary  sought  to  return  as  soon  as  possible  to 
their  own  country. 

The  Apocryphal  Gospels  are  full  of  extraordinary  miracles  wrought  by 
the  infant  Jesus  while  in  Egypt,  and  of  legends  respecting  Him  and  Mary, 
but  none  of  them  are  worth  reproducing.  Memphis  is  commonly  giveii  as 
the  place  where  Joseph  settled,  and  his  stay  is  variously  stated  as  having 
lasted  three  years,  two,  or  only  one. 

The  star  and  the  Magi  have  naturally  given  rise  to  many  legends.     The 
country,  the  number,  and  the  names  of  the  illustrious  visitors  are  as 
entirely  passed   over   by  the  Apocrypha  as   by   the   Gospels,  but  later 
tradition  abundantly  atones  for  the  omission.     They  were  said  to  be  the 
kings  of  Sheba  and  Seba,  in  Arabia,  come  to  offer  gifts  to  His  light  and  to 
the  brightness  of    His  rising,  but   Persia,  Chaldea,  Ethiopia,  and  India, 
have  each  had  their  advocates.    It  is  equally  undetermined  in  the  legends 
whether  they  were  Jews  or  heathen,  though  most  of  the  fathers  favour 
the  idea  that  they  were  the  latter,  and  the  Arabic  Gospel  of  the  Infancy 
represents  them  as  worshipping  fire,  and  as  referring  to  a  prophecy  of 
Zoroaster  respecting  the  Messiah.     Their  three  gifts  led  to  the  fancy  that 
they  themselves  were  only  three  in  number,  which  was  supposed  to  corres- 
pond to  the  three  divisions  of  the  earth  as  then  known,  Europe,  Asia,  and 
Africa.     Sometimes,  however,  they  are  spoken  of  as  twelve,  to  correspond 
with  the  Apostles,  and  their  names  given,  with  the  special  gift  which 
each  presented.     Their  kingdoms  also  are  mentioned,  and  their  very  ages, 
which  are   made  to  represent  youth,  manhood,  and   grey  hairs.      Bede, 
indeed,  is  able  to  tell  us  that  Melchior  was  an  old  man,  with  long  white 
hair,  and  a  sweeping  beard,  and  that  he  gave  the  gold  as  to  a  king;  that 
Caspar  was  a  beardless  youth,  with  a  ruddy  face,  aiid  that  he  presented 
the  frankincense  as  a  gift  worthy  the  God ;  while  Balthasar  was  a  swarthy 
strong-boarded  man,  and  gave  the  myrrh  for  the  burial.     In  the  cathedral 
at  Cologne,  visitors  may  yet  see  the  supposed  skulls  of  the  three,  set  in 
jewels,  and  exhiljited  in  a  great  gilded  shrine.     They  are  said  to  have  been 
discovered  by  Bishop  Reinald  of  Cologne  in  the  twelfth  century. 

Imagination  has  been  equally  busy  with  the  star.  The  Arabic  Gospel 
of  the  Infancy  says  it  was  an  angel  in  the  form  of  a  star,  and  several  of 
the  Fathers  were  of  the  same  opinion.  Origcn  believed  it  to  have  been  a 
comet.  One  tradition  is  beautiful.  In  the  farthest  East,  it  says,  lived  a 
people  who  had  a  book  which  bore  the  name  of  Seth,  and  in  this  was 
written  the  appearance  of  the  star  of  the  Messiah,  and  the  ofEering  of  gif  Ls 
to  Him.  This  book  was  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  generation  after 
generation.  Twelve  men  were  chosen  who  should  watch  for  the  star,  and 
when  one  died,  another  was  chosen  in  his  place.  These  men,  in  the  speech  of 
the  land,  were  called  Magi.  They  went,  each  year,  after  the  wheat- 
harvest,  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  which  was  called  the  Mountain  of 
Victory.  It  had  a  cave  in  it,  and  was  pleasant  by  its  springs  and  trees. 
At  last  the  star  appeared,  and  in  it  the  form  of  a  little  child,  and  over  him 
the  sign  of  a  cross  ;  and  the  star  itself  spoke  to  them,  and  told  them  to  go 
to  Judea.  For  two  years,  which  was  the  time  of  their  journey,  the  star 
moved  before  them,  and  they  wanted  neithov  food  nor  drink,     Gregory  of 


NAZAEETH,    AND   THE    EARLY   DAYS    OP   JESUS.  99 

Tours  adds  that  the  star  sank,  at  last,  into  a  spring  at  Bethlehem,  where 
he  himself  had  seen  it,  and  where  it  still  may  be  seen,  but  only  by  pure 
maidens. 

The  Gospel  of  Matthew,  which  was  written  for  the  Jewish  Christians  of 
Palestine,  has  for  its  primarj'  aim  the  proof  that  Jesus  was  the  promised 
Messiah,  and  as  nothing  would  weigh  so  much  in  the  minds  of  men  trained 
in  Jewish  ideas,  as  evidences  from  their  own  Scriptures,  it  abounds  with 
quotations  from  them  to  show  how  prophecy  was  fulfilled  in  our  Saviour. 
There  are  five  such  quotations  in  the  first  two  chapters,  some  of  which 
would  not  perhaps  have  struck  us,  of  themselves,  as  primarily  bearing  on 
the  Messiah.  In  Christ's  day,  a  system  of  allegorizing  was  in  vogue  with 
the  Rabbis  of  the  various  Jewish  schools,  as  it  afterwards  came  to  be  in 
the  Christian  Church,  and  this,  though  familiar  to  those  for  whom  the 
Gospel  was  first  written,  is  not  so  much  so  to  us.  How  far,  in  some  cases, 
it  is  intended  to  be  understood  that  the  passages  quoted,  originally  referred 
to  the  events  to  which  they  are  applied,  has  been  a  subject  of  much  con- 
troversy, for  the  sacred  writers  themselves  evidently  intend  them  to  be 
understood,  in  some  instances,  as  a  divine  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  but,  in 
others,  only  as  an  illustration  and  parallel.  Perhaps  the  rule  laid  down  by 
Tholuck  is  as  nearh^  right  as  any.  "  Whore  parallels  are  adduced  in  the 
New  Testament,"  says  he,  "  from  the  Old,  whether  it  be  in  words  of 
the  prophets,  or  in  institutions  or  events,  it  is  to  be  taken  for  granted,  in 
general,  that  the  intention  was  we  should  regard  them  as  divinely 
designed.  On  the  contrary,  there  are  other  cases,  as  for  example, 
Matthew  ii.  17,  where  the  phrase  'that  it  might  be  fulfilled'  is  not  used, 
but  only  'then.'  In  these  the  sacred  writer  is  to  be  regarded  as  following 
the  custom  of  his  day,  by  expressing  his  own  thoughts  in  the  words  of 
Scripture. 


Jn 


CHAPTER  XII. 

NAZATlEXn,   AND    THE   EAELY   DAYS   OF  JESUS. 

THE  exceeding  difficultj^  of  telling  the  story  of  a  life  like  that  of  Jesus 
Christ,  a  man  and  yet  divine,  one  having  all  power  given  Him  in 
heaven  and  in  earth,  and  yet  like  other  men  in  all  respects  except  sin,  is 
at  once  evident,  on  the  least  reflection.  Indeed,  it  is  not  so  much  difficult 
as  impossible,  to  tell  it  as  such  conditions  demand,  for  human  intellect 
can  only  comprehend  the  created,  not  the  Creator.  The  Eternal  still  dwells 
in  thick  darkness ;  no  eye  hath  seen  or  can  see  Him  :  His  very  attributes 
utterly  transcend  our  comprehension.  In  Jesus  Christ,  as  at  once  God 
and  Man,  we  have  opposite  conceptions  which  we  may  humbly  receive,  but 
can  neither  harmonize,  explain,  nor  adequately  express.  Man,  as  such,  is 
not  almighty,  but  frail  as  a  flower  ;  not  omniscient,  but,  even  at  his  highest 
wisdom,  a  child  on  the  shore  of  the  Infinite  ;  not  omnipresent,  but  fixed  at 
any  given  moment  to  one  minute  spot.  We  cannot  conceive  what  is 
implied  in  a  nature  of  which   almighty   power,   omniscience,  and  omni- 


100  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

presence  are  attributes  :  far  less  present  them,  adequately,  in  words,  as 

%  united  with  human  weakness  and  local  limitation.     The  Man  Christ  Jesus 

■'  may  be  realized.     His  acts  and  words  may  be  related ;  His  divine  powers 

I  may  be  illustrated  by  their  recorded  exhibitions,  and  there  may  be  the 

■'  most  sincere  admission  of  His  highest  claims  ;  but  the  narrative  must  still 

\  inevitably,  as  a  whole,  be  that  of  the  human  side  of  His  nature  only.^ 

\      It  seems  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  of  this  at  the  point  which  we 

have  reached,  to  prevent  misconceptions.     We  yield  to  none  in  reverence 

;■  to  Jesus  Christ  as  "God  manifest  in  the  flesh";  but  the  mystery  of  a 

j  nature  which  could  be  thus  described  must  ever  remain  beyond  the  power 

■  of  adequate  presentation  in  any  narrative  of  His  earthly  life. 

Having  heard  of  Herod's  death,  Joseph  determined  to  return  to  Pales- 
tine, with  the  intention  of  settling  permanently  at  Bethlehem.  On  reach- 
ing Judea,  however,  and  finding  Archelaus  had  been  appointed  ethnarch, 
the  dread  of  one  who,  of  all  the  family,  was  believed  to  be  most  like  the 
hated  tyrant,  his  father  Herod,— the  tumults  and  massacres  in  Jerusalem 
at  his  accession,  and  the  chronic  disturbance  of  the  country,  induced  him  to 
choose  his  former  place  of  residence,  in  Galilee,  instead. 

In  Nazareth,  he  was  still  under  the  rule  of  another  of  Herod's  sons, 
Herod  Antipas — a  man  of  no  higher  principle  than  his  brother,  as  his 
shameless  life  abundantly  proved,  but  less  likely  to  be  goaded  into  violent 
acts  towards  his  people,  from  receiving  less  irritation  at  their  hands  than 
Archelaus  had  to  bear  at  those  of  the  fiercely  orthodox  population  of 
Judea.  With  the  exception  of  the  dead  Antipater,  moreover,  Archelaus 
I  was  the  most  tyrannical  and  self-willed  of  the  sons  of  Herod,  and  he  was 
not  at  all  unlikely  to  follow  up  the  suspicious  cruelty  of  his  father,  which 
had  led  to  the  Bethlehem  massacre,  should  any  hint  betray  the  return  of 
1  the  supposed  rival  to  his  dominions.  Herod  Antipas,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  far  less  likely  to  trouble  himself  about  any  claimant  of  the  throne  of 
Judea,  a  province  unconnected  with  his  government.  Thus,  Nazareth 
became,  once  more,  a  year  or  two  before  the  commencement  of  our  pre- 
sent era,  the  habitation  of  the  infant  Jesus.  Here  He  was  to  spend  all 
His  future  life,  except  part  of  its  last  few  years. 

Nazareth  lies  among  the  hills,  which  extend  for  about  six  miles  between 
the  plains  of  El  Battauf  on  the  north,  and  Esdraelou  on  the  south.  It  is 
on  the  north  side  of  the  latter,  and  ovcT'looks  one  of  the  numerous  little 
folds  or  bays  of  the  great  plain,  which  are  seen  wherever  the  hills  open. 
The  village  lies  on  the  northern  side  of  this  green  bay,  and  is  reached  by 
a  narrow,  steep,  and  rough,  mountain  jiath,  over  which  the  villagers  have 
to  bring  their  harvests  laboriously  from  the  plain  beneath,  on  camels, 
mules,  and  donkeys.  If  the  traveller  ride  up  this  path  in  March,  when 
Palestine  is  in  its  glory,  he  will  be  charmed  by  the  bright  green  of  the 
plains  and  the  beauty  of  the  flowers,  everywhere  lighting  up  the  otherwise 
barren  hills,  which,  at  best,  yield  scanty  pasture  for  sheei^  and  goats. 
The  red  anemone  and  the  pink  phlox  are  the  commonest ;  rock  roses, 
white  and  yellow,  are  plentiful,  with  a  few  pink  ones ;  the  cytisus  here 
and  there  covers  the  ground  with  golden  flowers,  and  the  pink  convol- 
vulus, marigold,   wild   geranium,    and  red  tulip,    are  varied  by  several 


NAZARETH,  AND  THE  EARLt  DAYS  OF  JESUS.      101 

kinds  of  orchis — the  asphodel,  tlie  wild  garlic,  mignonette,  salvia,  pim- 
poniel,  and  white  or  pink  cyclamen.  As  the  path  ascends,  the  little 
fertile  valley  beneath,  running  cast  and  west,  gradually  opens  to  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  breadth,  covered  with  fields  and  gardens,  divided  by 
cactus  hedges,  and  running  into  the  hills  for  about  a  mile.  Near  the 
village,  beside  the  pathway,  about  an  hour  from  Esdraelon,  is  a  spring, 
from  which  the  water  pours  from  several  taps  in  a  slab  of  masonry,  fall- 
ing into  a  trough  below,  for  camels,  horses,  asses,  and  cattle. 

The  distant  view  of  the  village  itself,  in  spring,  is  beautiful.  Its  streets 
rise,  in  terraces,  on  the  slopes,  towards  the  north-west.  The  hills,  here 
and  there  broken  into  perpendicular  faces,  swell  above  it,  in  an  amphi- 
theatre round,  to  a  height  of  about  five  hundred  feet,  and  shut  it  in  from 
the  bleak  winds  of  winter.  The  flat-roofed  houses,  built  of  the  yellowish- 
white  limestone  of  the  neighbourhood,  shine  in  the  sun  with  a  dazzling 
brightness,  from  among  gardens,  and  fig-trees,  olives,  cypresses,  and  the 
white  and  scarlet  blossoms  of  the  orange  and  pomegranate.  A  mosque, 
with  its  graceful  minaret,  a  large  convent,  from  whose  gardens  rise  tall 
cypresses,  and  a  modest  cluirch,  are  the  princijaal  buildings.  The  streets 
are  narrow,  poor,  and  dirty,  and  the  shops  are  mere  recesses  on  each  side 
of  them,  but  the  narrowness  shuts  out  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  the  minia- 
ture shops  are  large  enough  for  the  local  trade.  Numbers  of  dogs  which 
belong  to  the  place,  and  have  no  owner,  lie  about,  as  in  all  Eastern  towns. 
Small  gardens,  rich  in  green  clumps  of  olive-trees  and  stately  palms, 
break  the  monotonous  yellow  of  the  rocks  and  houses,  while  doves  coo, 
and  birds  of  many  kinds  twitter,  in  the  branches,  or  flit  across  the  open. 
The  bright  colours  of  the  roller,  the  hoopoe,  the  sunbird,  or  the  bulljul, 
catch  the  eye  as  one  or  other  darts  swiftly  past,  and  many  birds  familiar 
in  England  are  seen  or  heard,  if  the  traveller's  stay  be  lengthened,  for  of 
the  322  birds  found  in  Palestine,  172  are  also  British.  The  song  of  the 
lark  floods  a  thousand  acres  of  sky  with  melody ;  the  restless  titmouse, 
the  willow-wren,  the  blackcap,  the  hedge-sparrow,  the  whitethroat,  or  the 
nightingale,  flit  or  warble,  on  the  hillside,  or  in  the  cactus  hedges,  while 
the  rich  notes  of  tlie  song-thrush  or  blackbird  rise  from  the  green  clumps 
in  the  valley  beneath.  The  wagtail  runs  over  the  pebbles  of  the  brook 
as  here  at  home  ;  the  common  sparrow  haunts  the  streets  and  house-tops  ; 
swallows  and  swifts  skim  the  hill-sides  and  the  grassy  meadows;  and,  in 
winter,  the  robin  redbreast  abounds.  Great  butterflies  flit  over  the  hill- 
sides, amongst  the  flowers,  while  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  dot  the  slopes 
and  the  little  plain  below.  Through  this  a  brook  ripples,  the  only  one  in 
tlie  valley,  and  thither  the  women  and  maidens  go  to  fetch  water  in  tall 
jars,  for  household  use.  It  is  the  one  spring  of  the  town,  and,  hence,  must 
have  been  that  which  the  mothers  and  daughters  of  Christ's  day  fre- 
quented. It  rises  under  the  choir  of  the  present  Greek  church,  and  is  led 
down  the  hill-side  in  a  covered  channel.  An  open  space  near  the  church 
is  the  threshing-floor  of  the  village,  where,  after  harvest,  the  yoked  oxen 
draw  the  threshing-sledges  slowly,  round  and  round,  over  the  grain,  in 
the  open  air.  No  Avonder  that  in  sjiring  Nazareth  should  have  been  thought 
a  paradise,  or  that  it  should  be  sjjoken  of  as  perhaps  the  only  spot  in 


102  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Palestine  where  the  mind  feels  relief  from  the  unequalled  desolation  that 
reigns  nearly  everywhere  else. 

Later  in  the  year,  the  hills  around  lose  the  charm  of  their  spring  flowers. 
They  are  then  grey  and  barren,  divided  by  dry  gullies,  with  no  colour  to 
relieve  their  tame  and  common-place  outlines,  the  same  on  every  side. 
But  even  then,  the  rich  hues  at  sunset,  with  its  tints  reflected  from  the 
rocks,  the  long-drawn  shadows  of  afternoon,  and  the  contrasts  of  light 
and  dark  on  a  cloudy  day,  give  frequent  charms  to  a  landscape  in 
itself  unattractive. 

Nazareth  lies  nearly  twelve  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  some  of  the 
hills  which  cluster  round,  and  shut  it  in,  rise,  as  has  been  said,  about  five 
hundred  feet  higher.  It  is  a  mountain  village,  only  to  be  reached  from 
the  plain  by  a  tedious  climb. 

The  Nazareth  hills  are  of  different  kinds  of  white  limestone.  A  thick 
bed  of  this  rock — containing  flints,  and  merging,  above,  into  the  marl 
which  is  still  found  at  Nablus,  and  into  a  more  thinly  bedded  soft  lime- 
stone beneath — originally  covered  the  whole  country,  from  Samaria  to 
Nazareth.  This  stone,  though  hard  when  exposed  to  the  air,  is  so  soft, 
where  fresh,  that  it  can  be  cut  like  chalk.  Beneath  it  lies  hard  dolomitic 
limestone.  The  hills  are  the  remains  of  these  different  rocks,  after 
denudation  through  a  long  geological  period,  their  strata  being  more  or 
less  disturbed  by  volcanic  upheaval  and  contortion.  Three  centres  of 
eruptive  outbursts  are  visible  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Esdraelon — one  in 
the  range  of  Gilboa,  on  the  south-east ;  another  at  Little  Hermon,  between 
Gilboa  and  Tabor  ;  and  the  third  in  the  south-eastern  part  of  the  Carmel 
range,  at  Jebel  Iskander— no  fewer  than  twenty-nine  outbursts  of  basalt, 
on  the  east,  west,  and  north  of  the  plain,  marking  their  former  activity. 
The  limestone  beds  arc  everywhere  more  or  less  tilted  up  by  this  volcanic 
energy.  The  rich  dark  soil  of  Esdraelon  has  been  formed  from  the 
wearing  down  of  the  basalt  which  now  forms  part  of  some  of  the  neigh- 
bouring hills,  and  from  strata  of  volcanic  mud  derived  from  it.  The 
smaller  plains  of  Palestine  are  of  a  more  clayey  soil,  the  hills  round  them 
being  of  limestone  or  basalt,  presenting,  at  times,  sudden  and  precipitous 
cliffs,  and  the  original  soft,  chalky  limestone  remaining  still  on  their 
tops. 

The  free  air  of  their  mountain  home  seems  to  have  had  its  effect  on  the 
people  of  Nazareth.  Its  bright-eyed  happy  children  and  comely  women 
strike  the  traveller,  and  even  their  dress  differs  from  that  of  other  parts. 
Through  Palestine  generally,  the  frequent  and  excessive  changes  of 
climate  expose  the  peasants,  or  the  fellahin,  to  rheumatism,  coughs,  and 
bronchitis  ;  and,  as  a  j^rotection,  the  men  in  many  parts  wear  a  sheepskin 
coat,  on  Avarm  days  as  Avell  as  cold.  The  women,  however,  make  no  change 
in  their  dress,  which  usually  consists  of  nothing  but  a  lonsr  blue  earment 
tied  m  round  the  waist,  a  bonnet  of  red  cloth,  decorated  with  an  edginsr  or 
roll  of  silver  coins,  bordering  the  forehead  and  extending  to  the  ears,  re- 
minding one  of  the  crescent-shaped  female  head-dress  worn  by  some  of 
the  Egyptian  priestesses.  Over  this,  a  veil  or  shawl  of  coarse  white  cot- 
ton is  thrown,  which   hangs   down  to  the    waist,    serving  to  cover  the 


NAZARETH,    Als'D    THE    EARLY    DATS    OF    JESUS.  103 

mouth,  while  the  bosom  is  left  exposed,  for  Eastern  and  Western  ideas 
of  decorum  differ  in  some  thin 2:3. 

The  peoi)lc  of  the  plain  of  Esdraelou  are  different.  Their  dark  skins,  bright 
eyes,  white  teeth,  and  wonderful  taste  in  the  combination  of  the  brightest 
colours,  draw  the  attention.  Nothing  more  picturesque  could  be  desired 
than  the  women,  in  their  red  veils,  and  long  pointed  sleeves,  carrying 
water ;  the  dark  camel-drivers,  in  black  head-dresses,  and  striped  brown 
and  white  abbas,  riding  on  diminutive  donkeys,  before  the  train  of  clumsy, 
swinging,  dull-coloured  camels  ;  the  rich  sheikh,  in  a  purple  jacket,  scarlet 
boots,  thin  white  cloak,  and  yellow  head-dress ;  his  grey  mare,  with  a 
scarlet  saddle,  set  off  by  long  brown  tassels  at  its  peaks ;  alternating  with 
the  herds  of  black  goats  and  diminutive  red  oxen. 

The  various  costumes  which  seem  peculiar  to  Nazareth  are  not  less 
striking.  The  short  abba  or  cloak  of  the  men,  and  their  gorgeous  kefiyehs, 
or  kerchiefs,  folded  triangularly  and  thrown  over  the  head,  so  as  to  fall 
over  the  neck  and  shoulders ;  the  white  veil,  the  silk  dresses,  the  broad 
scarves,  and  many-coloured  trousers,  red,  green,  blue,  and  yellow,  of 
the  women,  give  the  wearers  a  peculiarly  picturesque  appearance,  and 
differ  materially  from  the  sordid  dresses  of  the  poorer  southern  villages. 
In  a  country  where  nothing  changes,  through  age  after  age,  the  dress  of 
to-day  is  very  likely,  in  most  respects,  the  same  as  it  was  two  thousand 
years  ago,  though  the  prevailing  colour  of  the  Hebrew  dress,  at  least  in 
the  better  classes,  was  the  natural  white  of  the  materials  employed,  which 
the  fuller  made  even  whiter. 

One  charactftTistic  of  the  hills  round  Nazareth  existing  already  in 
Christ's  day,  and,  indeed,  much  earlier,  is  a  striking  proof  of  the  denseness 
of  the  population  of  Palestine  in  former  times,  and  of  its  restless  industry 
and  energy.  Many  of  them  are  honeycombed  with  countless  excavations 
of  various  kmds.  Cemeteries  of  over  two  hundred  tombs  cut  in  the 
soft  rock,  some  of  them  large  tunnelled  vaults,  with  separate  hollows  for 
twelve  todies  ;  large  numbers  of  Cisterns,  grape  and  olive  presses,  store 
or  dwelling  caves,  wells  and  quarries,  are  everywhere  abundant,  as, 
indeed,  they  are  over  the  whole  country,  but  especially  in  the  Shephejah  or 
Philistine  plain.  The  cisterns  are  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  deep,  shaped 
like  a  church  bell  or  inverted  funnel,  about  two  and  a  half  feet  across  at  the 
mouth,  and  fifteen  to  twenty-five  at  the  bottom,  the  whole  cut  out  of  the 
solid  limestone,  showing  that  Palestine  must  always  have  been,  for  a  good 
part  of  the  year,  a  waterless  country,  needing  to  store  up  the  rains  of 
autumn  and  spring.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  groups  of  from  three  to 
ten,  or  even  more,  of  these  fine  excavations  together.  What  must  have 
been  the  density  of  the  population,  what  its  civilization  and  industry,  to 
leave  such  remains  in  such  numbers  ? 

The  Nazareth  hills  are,  for  the  most  part,  neglected  now,  but  were 
utilized  in  Christ's  day  as  the  hill-sides  along  the  Rhine,  or  the  lime- 
slopes  of  Malta  are  at  present,  by  terrace  cultivation.  Traces  of  these 
ancient  terraces  may  still  be  seen.  All  the  loose  stones  were  gathered  and 
built  into  rough  walls  along  the  sides  of  the  hills,  like  so  many  steps,  as  at 
Bethlehem  still.     The  tops  of  the  strips  thus  gained,  after  being  levelled, 


lOi  a:iIE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

produced  grapes  and  all  kinds  of  fruit  in  great  abundance.  The  support- 
ing walls,  liaving  been  long  neglected,  have  fallen  down,  and  well-niglx 
disappeared ;  the  earth  once  behind  them  has  been  washed  away  by  the 
heavy  rains,  and  tlie  slopes,  except  in  spring,  when  the  flowers  are  in  their 
glory,  show  little  biit  barren  rock. 

The  view  from  ISTazareth  itself  is  limited,  as  might  be  expected  from  its 
nestling  in  an  amphitheatre  of  hills  that  shut  in  the  little  valley,  except  to 
the  west,  where  it  opens  on  Esdraelon.  From  the  top  of  the  hill  at  the 
back  of  the  village,  to  the  north,  however,  it  is  very  different.  Galilee 
lies  spread  out  like  a  map  at  one's  feet.  The  eye  wanders  over  the  plain 
of  Esdraelon  in  its  broad  western  sweep.  Three  hours  to  the  east,  it  rests 
on  the  round  outline  of  Tabor,  with  its  woods  of  oaks  and  pistachios,  and, 
beyond  it,  on  the  swelling  mass  of  Jebel  el  Dahy,  or  Little  Hermon,  which 
closes-in  the  i:)lain,  at  about  the  same  height  as  Tabor.  Ranging  south- 
wards, the  mountains  of  Gilboa,  four  or  five  hundred  feet  lower,  shut  in 
the  lowlands ;  while  far  beyond  them,  across  the  hidden  course  of  the 
Jordan,  rise  the  mountains  of  Gilead.  Looking  to  the  south,  across 
Esdraelon,  the  hills  of  Samaria  are  seen,  through  the  openings  of  the 
wooded  heights  of  the  Carmel  range,  reaching  northward  to  join  it. 
Turning  slowly  towards  the  west,  the  whole  length  of  the  Carmel  hills, 
running  thirty  miles  north-west,  to  the  coast,  seem,  in  the  pure  air  of 
these  parts,  as  if  close  at  hand.  About  twenty  miles  off,  almost  directly 
Avest,  rises  the  headland  of  Carmel ;  its  top  crowned  with  woods  of  oaks 
and  fig-trees,  its  slopes  varied  with  orchards,  laurels,  and  olives,  and  its 
seaward  face  sinking  abruptly  into  the  Mediterranean  waters.  Is'cstling 
at  the  northern  base  of  the  hill,  on  the  sea-shore,  the  white  houses  of 
Haifa  arrest  the  eye.  The  blue  waters,  specked  with  sails,  stretch  far 
awa}',  beyond,  to  the  distant  horizon.  The  whole  Bay  of  Acre  is  seen, 
though  Acre  itself  lies  too  low  to  be  visible.  The  brown  sandy  shores, 
sweeping  far  to  the  north,  are  hidden  only  here  and  there,  by  intervening 
hills.  Leaving  the  coast,  and  looking  from  north-west  to  north,  the 
panorama  shows  a  sea  of  hills— the  highlands  of  Galilee, — broken  by  the 
fertile  upland  plain  of  Buttauf,  close  at  hand,  with  the  ruins  of  the  once 
famous  Sepphoris,  on  a  solitary  hill  at  its  southern  edge,  and  beyond,  on 
its  northern  slope,  the  cottages  of  Cana  of  Galilee.  In  the  background, 
twenty  miles  away,  tower  the  hills  of  Safed,  2,770  feet  above  the  sea, 
rising  over  the  ever-heightening  summits  of  the  highlands  of  Upper 
Galilee.  But  Safed  itself  is  only  midway  in  the  landscape.  Mountains 
rise  beyond  mountains,  to  the  north,  till  they  culminate  more  than  sixty 
miles  off,  as  the  crow  flies,  in  the  highest  peaks  of  Hermon,  ten  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea-level.  As  the  eye  wanders  round  to  the  point  from 
which  it  began  its  survey,  hills  beyond  hills  still  meet  the  view,  stretch- 
ing away,  Avith  rounded  tops,  towards  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  rising  again, 
beyond  it,  to  a  greater  height  on  its  eastern  shores. 

In  the  town  of  Nazareth,  then  doubtless  much  larger,  Jesus  spent  most 
of  His  life.  Amidst  those  hills,  in  these  streets.  He  was  brought  up  as  a 
child  ;  and  "  grew,"  as  a  bo}^  "  in  wisdom  and  stature."  Here,  for  many 
years,  He  laboured  as  a  man  for  His  daily  bread.     This  was  the  landscape 


NAZARETH,    AND    IllE    EAKLY   DAYS    OV   JESUS.  105 

oil  which  He  daily  gazed,  and  it  Avas  along  these  mountain  paths  He 
walked.  He  must  often  have  stood  on  the  hill-top  from  Avhich  the  whole 
country  is  seen,  and  the  little  bay  of  the  great  i)lain  below  the  village, 
with  its  encircling  heights,  must  have  been  familiar  to  Him  in  its  least 
detail.  If  there  bo  a  spot  to  which  a  Christian  pilgrim  might  rightly  turn 
as  the  most  sacred  in  the  history  of  his  faith,  it  is  Nazareth. 

The  influence  of  such  a  home  on  the  character  of  its  jjeople  must  have  been 
marked.  Less  lovely,  perhaps,  than  the  plain  of  Genuesarcth,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hills  on  the  north-east,  it  was  yet  a  j^lace  fitted  alike  by  the 
dreamy  quiet  of  its  environment  of  heights,  the  surpassing  view  from  the 
hill  above  it,  the  beauty  of  earth  and  sky,  and  the  soul-inspiring  purity  of 
its  mountain  air,  to  form  true-hearted  and  generous  children  of  nature, 
quick  in  intellect,  bright  in  imagination,  and  noble  in  higher  character- 
istics. Yet,  with  all  its  seclusion,  the  position  of  Nazareth  checked  any 
narrow  onesidedness.  The  wonderful  landscape  from  its  hill-top  made 
this  impossible.  The  great,  rich,  Sepphoris,  the  capital  of  Galilee,  at  once 
a  town  and  a  fortress,  was  scarcely  three  hours  distant,  Tiberias  was  only 
eight,  and  a  crown  of  populous  villages  rose  on  all  sides,  around.  The 
great  high  road — known  even  in  the  days  of  Isaiah  as  "  the  way  of  the 
sea"  —  ran  across  the  plain  of  El  Buttauf,  just  behind  Nazareth,  from 
Damascus  to  Ptolemais.  Another  caravan  road,  from  Damascus  to  Judea 
and  Egypt,  crossed  Esdraelon  at  the  foot  of  the  Nazareth  hill,  meeting  a 
third,  from  the  north,  at  Megiddo,  on  the  other  side  of  the  plain.  The 
Roman  road  from  Syria,  moreover,  after  passing  through  Berytus,  Sidon, 
Tyre,  and  Ptolemais,  on  the  coast,  ran,  by  way  of  Sepphoris,  through 
Nazareth,  to  Samaria,  Jerusalem,  and  the  south.  Nazareth  was,  thus,  at 
the  crossiieg  place  of  the  nations,  where  commerce  or  military  changes 
gave  daily  familiarity  with  all  the  neiglibouring  races — the  Syrian,  the 
Phenician,  the  Arab,  and  the  Eonian  ;  and  where  there  was  so  much  inter- 
course, there  must  have  been  greater  liberality  of  mind  than  in  other  parts 
of  Jewish  territory. 

It  has  been  usual  to  think  of  Nazareth  as  a  rough  and  fierce  place,  with 
a  doubtful  character  even  for  morals.  The  rejection  of  its  greatest  Son 
by  His  fellow-townsmen  has  been  thought  to  show  their  rude  coarseness ; 
but  Jesus  offers  a  milder  explanation — that  a  prophet  has  no  honour  in 
his  own  country.  Yet,  even  in  rejecting  Him,  only  a  rough  and  coarse 
people  would  have  acted  so  rudely.  The  exclamation  of  Nathanael  seems 
to  imply  the  doubtful  morality  of  the  town,  perhaps  from  its  position  in 
the  midst  of  constant  heathen  traffic  on  the  great  roads  ;  and  this  appears 
to  correspond  with  the  other  notices  of  it  in  the  Gospels.  If  it  were  so,  it 
would  only  heighten  the  wonder  that  such  a  shoot  should  grow  from 
ground  so  dry  ! 

Of  the  first  thirty  years  of  Christ's  life  we  know  nothing  except  the  one 
incident  of  His  visit  to  Jerusalem,  with  Joseph  and  Mary,  when  a  boy  of 
twelve  years  old.  It  is  not  difficult,  however,  to  imagine  at  least  some  of 
the  influences  which  must  have  had  their  part  in  the  development  of  that 
"wisdom"  in  which  He  "grew,"  as  His  childhood  and  boyhood  passed  away. 

"It  must   be   granted,"  says    Ewald,  "that  in  no  ancient  people  has 


106  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

family  life  maintained  itself  so  powerfully  as  in  Israel,  during  the  early 
days  of  the  outward  strength  of  the  nation,  or  with  so  little  weakening  and 
detei'ioration  as  during  the  period  of  its  gradual  decline."  In  their 
patriarch  Isaac  and  his  Avife  Eebecca,  they  had  an  abiding  ideal  which  it 
seemed  the  highest  felicity  to  copy.  Woman,  among  the  Jews,  was  never 
so  dependent  and  despised  as  among  other  Eastern  races,  for  the  Law 
proclaimed  that  she  was  bone  of  man's  bone,  and  flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  de- 
signed to  be  a  help  meet  for  him.  In  the  picture  of  Eve  as  the  one  wife 
of  Adam  polygamy  was  indii'ectly  censured,  and  it  was  no  less  so  in  the 
command  given  in  Eden,  that  "  a  man  should  leave  his  father  and  mother 
and  cleave  unto  his  wife,  and  that  they  should  be  one  flesh."  Hence  it 
was  never  in  much  favour  among  the  Jews,  and  gradually  gave  place  to 
the  original  law.  Indeed,  it  was  at  any  time  rather  a  feature  of  royal  or 
princely  ostentation  than  a  characteristic  of  ordinary  life. 

The  Book  of  Proverbs  throws  great  light  on  the  position  of  women  in 
Israel,  and,  incidentally,  on  her  place  and  occupations  in  the  household- 
"A  gracious  woman,"  we  are  told,  "retaineth  honour;  "  "a  wise  woman 
buildeth  her  house,"  that  is,  establishes  her  family;  and  "the  price  of  a 
virtuous  woman  is  set  far  above  that  of  rubies."  Instead  of  beingj  the 
playthings  or  slaves  of  men,  women  are  taught  that  they  may  be  his 
helpers  and  noblest  friends.  "  The  heart  of  the  husband  of  the  virtuous 
woman,"  says  King  Lemuel, 

"  Doth  safely  trust  in  her,  so  that  he  shall  not  want  for  gain. 
She  will  do  him  good  and  not  harm  all  the  days  of  her  life. 
She  seeketh  wool,  and  flax,  and  worketh  with  diligent  hands. 
She  is  like  the  merchant  ships  ;  she  bringeth  her  food  from  afar. 
She  riseth  also  while  it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth  meat  to  her  household. 
And  the  day's  work  to  her  maidens. 
She  considercth  a  field  and  buyeth  it;  with  the  fruit  of  her  hands  she 

plantetli  a  vineyard. 
She  girdcth  her  loins  with  strength,  and  maketh  strong  her  arms. 
She  sees  that  her  trading  yields  good  profit :  her  lamp  is  kept  burning  by 

nis-ht. 
She  lays  her  hands  on  the  spindle,  and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff. 
She  stretcheth  out  her  hand  to  the  poor;  yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands 

to  the  needy. 
She  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for  her  household ;  for  all  her  children  are 

clothed  with  scarlet  wool. 
She  maketh  herself  robes  :  her  clothing  is  silk  and  purple. 
Her  husband  is  known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sitteth  among  the  elders  of 

the  land. 
She  maketh  fine  linen,  and  selleth  it  ;    and  delivereth  girdles   unto  the 

merchant. 
Strength  and  honour  are  her  clothing  ;  and  she  smiles  at  days  to  come. 
She  opcneth  her  mouth  with  wisdom ;  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of 

kindness. 
She  looketh  well  to  the  ordering  of  her  household,  and  eateth  not  the 

bread  of  idleness. 


NAZAEETH,   AND    THE    EAELY   DAYS    OF   JESUS.  107 

Her  sons  rise  up  and  praise  her  ;  her  husband  also,  and  he  extols  her ; — 
'  Many  daughters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest  them  all.' 
Gracefulness  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  a  breath,  but  a  woman  that  fears 

Jehovah,  she  shall  be  praised. 
Give  her  the  honour  that  the  fruit  of  her  hands  deserves  ;  her  works  are 

the  praise  of  all,  in  the  gates." 

ISTo  literature  of  any  age  offers  a  finer  ideal  of  the  Wife  and  Mother  than 
this  Hebrew  poem,  written  not  less  than  two  thousand  five  hundred  years 
ago,  when  the  history  of  Greece  was  still  the  era  of  fable,  and  Eome  was 
little  more  than  a  rude  fort  on  the  top  of  the  Palatine  hill.  That  it  is  a 
sejiarate  poem,  inserted  in  this  collection  of  Proverbs,  is  seen  from  its 
construction,  each  verse  beginning  with  the  successive  letters  of  the 
Hebrew  alphabet,  in  regular  order,  with  the  design,  no  doubt,  of  helping 
the  memory  to  retain  it.  For  hundreds  of  yeai's  before  Mary's  day  it  had 
been  on  the  lips  of  many  Jewish  maidens,  for  the  words  of  the  sacred 
))ooks  were  familiar  to  the  whole  Jewish  race,  as  no  part  of  any  other 
literature,  so  far  as  we  know,  has  ever  been  to  any  people.  The  picture  of 
loving  fidelity,  ceaseless  industry,  prudence,  management,  charity,  thrift, 
wisdom,  self-respect ;  of  noble  reverence,  rising  from  the  husband  on 
earth  to  God  above,  and  of  motherly  virtues  towards  her  children,  must 
have  kindled  high  aspirations  in  many  a  Jewish  wife.  It  cannot  be  wrong 
to  believe  that,  in  her  sphere,  Mary  realized  this  ideal,  both  in  her  activi- 
ties and  in  her  character,  and  that  it  had  its  share  in  the  spiritual  develop- 
ment of  her  wondrous  child. 

The  relation  of  the  Jewish  husband  to  his  wife  was  equally  striking.  If 
he  were  her  Isaac,  she  was  his  Rebecca.  "  A  good  wife  is  a  great  gift  of 
God,"  says  the  son  of  Sirach,  "to  him  that  fears  God  is  she  given." 
"  Joy  to  the  man  who  has  such  a  wife,"  says  he  again,  "  for  the  number  of 
his  days  is  doubled."  "  Honour  your  wife,  that  you  may  be  rich  in  the 
joy  of  your  home,"  says  the  Talmud.  "  Is  your  wife  little  ?  "  says  another 
Jewish  proverb,  also  quoted  in  the  Talmud,  "  then  bow  down  to  her  and 
speak" — that  is,  do  nothing  without  her  advice.  "In  eating  and  drink- 
ing," says  a  Rabbi,  "let  a  man  keep  within  his  means;  in  his  own  dress 
let  him  spend  as  his  means  allow;  but  let  him  honour  his  wife  and  children 
to  tlie  very  edge  of  his  power,  for  they  are  dependent  on  him,  but  he  him- 
self is  dependent  on  God  whose  word  made  the  world."  The  humour  that 
marks  the  Jew  in  all  ages  made  a  butt  of  the  man  who,  contrary  to  the 
better  feeling  of  his  people,  ventui'ed  to  take  two  wives.  "  Bald  here,  and 
bald  there,"  says  a  Jewish  proverb,  in  allusion  to  one  who  had  two  wives 
one  young  and  one  old.  The  young  one,  said  Jewish  wit,  pulled  out  the 
white  hairs,  and  the  old  one  the  black,  till  his  head  was  as  smooth  as  an 
ivory  ball ! 

The  reverence  of  children  towards  their  parents  Avas  carried  to  the 
sublime  in  Hebrew  families.  The  child  found  the  ideal  of  his  obedience 
in  Isaac's  willingly  yielding  himself  to  death  at  his  father's  command. 
Every  young  Hebrew  heard,  from  his  earliest  years,  how  the  finger  of  God 
Himself  had  written  on  the  taljles  of  stone,  "  Honour  thy  father  and  tliy 
mother,  that  thy  days  may  be  long  upon  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God 


103  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

givcth  tlice ;  and  this  command  he  found  repeated  again  and  again  in  the 
sacred  Law.  Disobedience  to  a  father  or  mother  was  made  a  public 
crime,  which  the  community  might  punish  with  death.  Unworthy  cliil- 
dren  were  laid  under  the  most  awful  threatenings  of  divine  displeasure. 
Childhood  read  hoAV  Joseph,  "  when  he  met  his  father,  fell  on  his  neck  and 
wept  a  good  while,"  and  "  bowed  himself  to  the  earth  before  him,"  and 
how  the  great  lawgiver  "  did  obeisance  to  his  father-in-law  and  kissed 
him."  It  knew  the  curse  that  fell  on  the  son  of  ISToah  who  failed  in 
respect  to  his  father,  and  read  that  the  young  were  to  "  rise  up  before  the 
hoary  head,  and  honour  the  face  of  the  old  man."  The  tender  care  of  an 
aged  parent  was  regarded  by  every  Jew  as  a  sacred  duty.  The  son  of 
Sirach  only  repeated  the  sentiment  of  all  Scripture  when  he  said,  "  Honour 
thy  father  with  thy  whole  heart,  and  forget  not  the  sorrows  of  thy  mother. 
Remember  that  thou  wast  begotten  of  them ;  and  how  canst  thou  recom- 
pense them  the  things  that  they  have  done  for  thee?"  That  a  father 
and  a  mother's  blessing  was  prized  as  sacred,  and  its  being  withheld  re- 
garded as  the  saddest  loss,  shows  how  deeply  such  teaching  had  sunk  into 
the  Jewish  mind. 

Family  life,  resting  thus  on  the  holiest  duty  and  reverence,  has  been 
nowhere,  in  any  age,  more  beautiful  than  it  was,  and  still  is,  among  the 
Jews.  In  the  parents,  moreover,  the  passionate  love  of  offspring,  charac- 
teristic of  the  race,  doubtless  hallowed  these  lofty  sanctions.  The  children 
of  a  Jewish  household  were  the  centre  round  which  its  life  and  love  moved. 
Full  of  affection  and  sensibility,  the  heart  of  a  Jew  was  not  content  with 
loving  only  those  of  his  own  generation,  but  yearned  to  extend  itself  to 
others  who  would  inherit  the  future.  A  childless  marriage  was  the 
bitterest  trial.  The  Rabbis  went  even  so  far  as  to  say  that  childless 
parents  were  to  be  lamented  as  one  would  lament  the  dead.  The  purity 
of  Jewish  family  life  was  proverbial  even  in  antiquity.  The  surpassing 
morality  of  the  ancient  Scriptures,  and  the  illustrations  of  ideal  virtue 
presented  by  such  mothers  in  Israel  as  Sarah,  Rachel,  Hannah,  and 
Susanna,  shed  a  holiness  over  household  relationship  in  Israel  that  Avas 
unknown  elsewhere.  The  Talmud  hardly  goes  too  far  when  it  ascribes  to 
the  fidelity  of  the  wives  of  the  nation  in  Egypt  its  first  deliverance  and 
its  national  existence,  and  a  modern  Jew  is,  perhaps,  justified  in  believing 
that  the  bond  of  family  love  among  his  people  is  stronger  than  in  any 
other  race.  "  From  the  inexhaustible  spring  of  Jewish  family  love,"  he 
affirms,  "  rise  the  saviours  of  the  human  race."  "  The  Jewish  women 
alone,"  says  he  justly,  elsewhere,  "have  the  sound  principle  to  subordinate 
all  other  love  to  that  of  the  mother."  Alexander  Weill  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Jewish  mother  the  words,  "  Dare  any  Jewish  mother,  worthy  of  the 
name,  let  the  thought  of  '  love '  in  its  ignoble  sense  ever  cross  her  mind  ? 
It  seems  to  her  no  better  than  a  vile  ajDostasy.  A  Jewess  dares  love  only 
God,  her  parents,  her  husband,  and  her  children."  Kompert  ventures  to 
repeat  the  audacious  Jewish  saying — "  God  could  not  be  everywhere,  and 
therefore  He  made  mothers."  "  The  mother's  love,"  he  continues,  "  is  the 
basis  of  all  family  life  in  Jewish  romances  ;  its  i^assion,  its  mystery.  The 
same  type  of  the  Jewish  mother  is  foiind  in  all  alike."     It  is  true  in  all 


NAZAllETH,    AND    THE    EAELY   DAYS    OF   JESUS.  109 

ages,  as  Douglas  Jerrold  puts  it,  tliat  she  who  rocks  the  cradle  rules  the 
world.  The  earliest  years  of  a  child  are  the  most  receptive.  "  It  leai-ns 
more  in  the  first  three  or  four  thau  in  all  its  after  life,"  saj-s  Lord 
Brougham.  The  character  of  the  mother,  her  care,  her  love,  her  looks, 
her  soul,  repeat  themselves  in  the  child  while  it  is  yet  in  her  arms  or  at 
her  knees. 

It  is  not  too  much,  then,  to  ascribe  supreme  influence  to  Mary  in  the 
development  of  her  wondrous  child.  Wordsworth's  sonnet  is  only  the 
adequate  utterance  of  what  must  have  been  daily  realized  in  the  cottage  of 
Nazareth : — 

"  Mother !  wliose  virgin  bosom  was  uncross'd 
With  the  least  shade  or  thought  to  sin  allied  j 
Woman  !  above  all  women  glorified ; 
Our  tainted  Nature's  solitary  boast ; 
Purer  than  foam  on  central  ocean  toss'd : 
Brighter  than  Eastern  skies  at  daybreak  strewn 
With  fancied  roses,  thau  the  unblemish'd  moon. 
Before  her  wane  begins  on  heav'n's  blue  coast ; 
Thy  image  falls  to  earth.     Yet  some,  I  ween, 
Not  uuforgiven  the  suppliant  knee  might  bend, 
As  to  a  visible  Power,  in  whom  did  blond 
All  that  was  mix'd  and  reconciled  in  thee 
Of  mother's  love  with  maiden  purity. 
Of  high  with  low,  celestial  with  terrene  !  " 

That  both  parents  of  a  Jewish  child  took  an  active  part  in  its  early 
education  is  shown  by  the  instance  of  Susanna,  of  whom  we  are  told  that 
"  her  parents  also  were  righteous,  and  taught  their  daughter  according 
to  the  law  of  Moses,"  and  by  that  of  Timothy,  who,  from  a  child,  had 
"known  the  Holj''  Scriptures";  his  grandmother,  Lois,  and  his  mother, 
Eunice,  having  been,  by  implication,  his  teachers.  But  it  was  on  the 
father,  especially,  that  the  obligation  lay  to  teach  his  children  of  both  sexes 
the  sacred  Law  and  the  other  Scriptures,  the  knowledge  of  which  consti- 
tuted almost  exclusively  the  sum  of  Jewish  education.  Abraham  had 
found  divine  favour  on  the  express  ground  that  he  "  would  command  his 
children  and  his  household  after  him,  and  they  should  keep  the  waj'  of 
Jehovah";  and  express  injunctions  required  every  father  to  teach  the 
sacred  history  of  his  nation,  with  the  great  deeds  and  varying  fortunes  of 
his  ancestors,  and  the  words  of  the  Law,  "  diligently  "  to  his  children,  and 
to  talk  of  them  while  sitting  in  the  house,  or  walking  by  the  way,  when 
they  retired  to  rest,  and  when  they  rose  for  the  daj*.  It  was,  in  fact, 
required  by  the  Rabbis  that  a  child  should  begin  to  learn  the  Law  hy  heart 
when  five  years  old.  As  soon  as  it  could  speak  it  had  in  the  same  way  to 
learn  the  lessons  and  petitions  of  the  morning  service.  At  the  frequently 
recurring  household  religious  feasts,  special  rites,  wh.icli  should  stir  the 
child  to  ask  their  meaning,  formed  a  regular  part.  The  book  of  Proverbs 
abounds  with  proofs  of  the  fidelity  with  which  these  commands  were 
carried  out  by  both  fathers  and  mothers.  In  a  virtuous  family  no  oppor- 
tunity  was  lost — at  the  table,  at  home,  or  abroad,  evening  or  morning— of 
instilling  reverence  for  God's  law  into  the  minds  of  the  family,  and  of 
teaching  them  its  express  words  throughout,  till  they  knew  them  by  heart. 
When   \VQ   remember   that  the  festivals   made  labour   unlawful  for  two 


110  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

months  in  each  year,  in  the  aggregate,  it  is  evident  that  the  leisure  thus 
secured  would  give  great  facilities  for  domestic  instruction. 

Such  had  been,  for  ages,  the  rule  in  Israel,  and  it  doubtless  still  pre- 
vailed in  many  households.  Elementary  schools,  however,  gradually  came 
to  be  felt  a  necessity  for  orphan  children,  and,  in  the  decline  of  manners, 
even  for  those  of  many  living  parents.  Whether  they  had  been  generally 
established  in  the  days  of  Christ's  childhood  has,  nevertheless,  been 
questioned.  "  If  any  man,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  deserves  that  his  name 
should  be  handed  down  to  posterity,  it  is  Joshua,  the  son  of  Gamaliel. 
For,  but  for  him,  the  knowledge  of  the  Law  wovild  have  perished  in  Israel. 
In  early  times  he  who  had  a  father  was  taught,  but  he  who  had  not,  did 
not  learn  the  Law.  For  they  were  commanded  in  the  words  of  the  Law, 
<  you'— doubtless  the  fathers—'  shall  teach  them.'  At  a  later  date  it  was 
ordered  that  schoolmasters  should  be  appointed  to  teach  the  youth  of 
Jerusalem,  because  it  is  written,  'The law  shall  go  forth  from  Zion.'  But 
this  plan  did  not  remedy  the  evil,  for  only  the  child  that  had  a  father  was 
sent  to  school,  while  he  who  had  none  was  not  sent.  It  was  therefore 
provided  that  higher  teachers  should  be  appointed  in  every  district,  and 
that  the  youth  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  age  should  attend  their 
schools.  But  this  plan  failed,  because  any  scholar  whom  the  master 
chastised  presently  ran  off.  Then,  at  last,  Joshua,  the  son  of  Gamaliel, 
ordained  that  teachers  should  be  appointed,  as  in  every  district,  so  in 
every  town,  to  whom  the  boys  from  the  sixth  or  seventh  year  of  their  age 
should  be  committed."  But  such  a  law  must  have  been  only  supplemen- 
tary to  already  existing  customs,  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  boys' 
schools  were  already  general  in  the  time  of  Christ. 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  Jews  for  education,  which,  in  their  sense  of  the 
word,  was  the  learning  to  read  "  the  Law,"  and  the  committing  it  to 
memory,  was  amazing.  "  A  town  in  which  there  is  no  school  must  perish." 
"  Jerusalem  was  destroyed  because  the  education  of  the  children  was 
neglected,"  says  the  Talmud.  Joscphus  tells  us  that  "  Moses  com- 
manded that  the  children  be  taught  to  read,  and  to  walk  in  the  Avays  of  the 
Law,  and  to  know  the  deeds  of  their  fathers,  that  they  might  imitate  them, 
and  that  they  might  neither  transgress  the  Law,  nor  have  the  excuse  of 
ignorance."  He  re^Deatedly  boasts  of  the  universal  zeal  that  prevailed  for 
the  education  of  the  young.  "  We  interest  ourselves  more  about  the 
education  of  our  children  than  about  anything  else,  and  hold  the  obser- 
vance of  the  laws,  and  the  rules  of  piety  they  inculcate,  as  the  weightiest 
business  of  our  whole  lives.  "  If  you  ask  a  Jew  any  matter  concerning 
the  Law,  he  can  more  readily  explain  it  than  tell  his  own  name.  Since  we 
learn  it  from  the  first  beginning  of  intelligence,  it  is,  as  it  were,  graven  on 
our  souls."  "Our  legislator  neither  left  joractical  enforcement  to  go  on 
without  verbal  instruction,  nor  did  he  permit  the  hearing  of  the  Law  to 
proceed  without  its  illustration  in  practice ;  but  beginning  his  laws  from 
the  earliest  infancy,  with  the  appointment  of  every  one's  diet,  he  left  no 
act  of  life,  of  the  very  smallest  consequence,  at  the  pleasure  and  disposal 
of  the  person  himself."  This  jjassage  throws  light  on  the  kind  of  in- 
struction imparted.     Philo,  a  contemporary  of  Christ,  bears  similar  testi- 


NAZARETH,   AND   THE   EAELY  DATS   OF   JESUS.  Ill 

mony.  '"  Since  the  Jews,"  says  he,  "  look  on  their  laws  as  revelations  from 
God,  and  are  taught  them  from  their  earliest  childhood,  they  bear  the  image 
of  the  Law  on  their  souls.  "  They  are  taught,"  adds  he  elsewhere,  "so  to 
speak,  from  their  very  swaddling  clothes,  by  their  parents,  masters,  and 
teachers,  in  the  holy  laws,  and  in  the  unwritten  customs,  and  to  believe  in 
God,  the  one  Father  and  Creator  of  the  world.  Josephus  boasts  that  at 
fourteen  he  had  so  thorough  a  knowledge  of  the  Law,  that  the  high  priests 
and  first  men  of  the  town  sought  his  opinion.  There  can,  indeed,  be  no 
question  that  a  boy  was  trained,  from  the  tenderest  years,  with  sedulous 
care,  in  a  knowledge  of  the  moral  and  ceremonial  laws  of  Judaism,  not 
only  as  written  in  Scripture,  but  as  explained,  in  endless  detail,  by  the 
"  traditions  "  and  rules  of  the  Eabbis.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he  became 
a  "  son  of  the  Law,"  and  was  bound  to  practise  all  its  moral  and  ritual 
requirements. 

The  age  at  which  children  were  to  be  sent  to  school  is  fixed  in  the 
Mischna.  Eaf  said  to  Samuel,  the  son  of  Schilath,  a  teacher,  "  Do  not 
take  a  boy  to  be  taught  before  he  is  six  years  old,  but  from  that  year 
receive  him,  and  train  him  as  you  do  the  ox,  which,  day  by  day,  bears  a 
heavier  load."  Even  the  number  of  scholars  a  teacher  might  take  is 
rigidly  fixed.  "  Eabba  (or  Eaf)  has  said,  a  schoolmaster  may  receive  to 
the  number  of  twenty-five  scholars.  Lf  there  be  fifty,  there  must  be  two 
schoolmasters ;  if  only  forty,  there  must  be  an  assistant,  who  is  to  be  paid 
half  by  the  congregation,  half  by  the  schoolmaster."  The  few  children 
who  were  not  sent  to  school,  from  whatever  cause,  were  called  Am-ha- 
aretzin,  or  boors— it  being  taken  for  granted  that  they  must  have  lived 
in  some  rude  district  whei'e  schools  were  not  easy  of  access.  Neither 
unmarried  men  nor  women  were  allowed  to  be  teachers.  The  Hazaia  or 
"minister"  of  the  nearest  synagogue  was,  in  general,  the  master,  and 
the  synagogue  itself,  in  a  great  many  cases,  served  as  the  schoolhouse. 

In  school,  the  children,  according  to  their  age,  sat  on  benches,  or  on 
the  ground,  as  they  still  do  in  the  East,  the  master  sitting  on  a  raised 
seat.  The  younger  children  had,  as  text-books,  some  simple  passage  from 
the  Bible,  carefully  written  out — for,  of  course,  there  were  no  books,  in  our 
sense,  then — and  they  seem  to  have  repeated  it  in  a  sing-song  cadence  till 
they  learned  it  by  heart.  In  Eastern  schools,  at  this  time,  some  of  the 
lessons  are  written  by  each  scholar,  with  chalk,  on  tablets  of  wood,  like 
our  slates  in  shape ;  and  these  are  cleaned  after  each  lesson.  Some  cen- 
turies after  Christ,  the  boys,  having  had  portions  of  the  "LaAv"  as  the^r 
class-book  till  they  were  ten  years  old,  began  at  that  age  to  read  the 
Mischna,  or  Eabbinical  comments,  and  at  fifteen  entered  on  the  reading  of 
the  Gemara,  or  the  collected  comments  on  both  the  Law  and  the  Jlisclina. 
In  Christ's  day,  advanced  education  was,  no  doubt,  much  the  same,  but  it 
must  have  been  given  by  oral  instruction,  for  the  sayings  of  the  Eabbis 
■were  not  as  yet  committed  to  writing. 

The  early  years  of  Christ  were,  doubtless,  spent  in  some  such  school, 
after  He  had  passed  from  the  first  lessons  of  Maiy,  and  the  instructions  of 
Joseph.  Mysterious  as  it  is  to  us,  we  must  never  forget  that,  as  a  child. 
He  passed  through  the  same  stages   as  other  children.     The  Apocryphal 


112  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Gospels  are  full  of  miracles  attributed  to  these  opening  years,  describing 
the  infant  as  already  indefinitely  beyond  His  age.  There  is  no  warrant 
for  this  in  Scripture.  Nothing  was  out  of  keeping  in  the  life  of  our  Lord. 
As  Irenteus  says,  "  He  sanctified  childhood  by  passing  through  it."  Neither 
His  words  nor  acts,  His  childish  pleasures  nor  His  tears,  were  different 
from  those  of  His  age.  Evil  alone  had  no  growth  in  Him  :  His  soul  gave 
back  to  the  heavens  all  their  saci'cd  brightness.  The  ideal  of  humanity 
from  His  birth,  He  never  lost  the  innocence  of  childhood,  but  He  was  none 
the  less  completely  like  other  children  in  all  things  else.  "We  are  told 
that  "  the  child  grew,  and  waxed  strong  in  spirit,"  that  "the  favour  of 
God  was  upon  Him,"  and  that  "He  kept  on  increasing  in  wisdom  and 
stature,  and  in  favour  with  God  and  man  "  ;  and  this  can  only  mean  that, 
with  a  sweet  attractiveness  of  childish  nature.  He  spoke,  and  understood 
and  thought,  as  simply  as  His  playmates,  in  the  fields,  or  on  the  hill-sides 
of  Nazareth.  The  earlier  words  are  the  same  as  are  used  of  John  the 
Baptist  in  his  childhood  and  can  bear  only  the  same  meaning.  Both  grew 
in  the  shade  of  a  retired  country  life,  in  the  sanctuary  of  home,  apart  from 
the  great  world,  under  the  eyes  of  God,  and  with  His  grace  upon  them.  It 
was  only  in  later  years  that  the  mighty  difference  between  them  was  seen, 
when  the  fresh  leaves  of  childhood,  much  alike  in  all,  passed  into  flower. 
There  was  no  moment  in  Christ's  life  when  the  higher  light  began  to 
reveal  itself  in  His  soul :  life  and  "  grace  "  dawned  together,  and  grew  in 
a  common  increase  to  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

EARLY  BOYHOOD. 

r  I  THE  religious  life  of  the  home,  the  Church,  and  the  community  neces- 
-■-  sarily  mould,  more  or  less,  the  susceptible  nature  of  childi'en,  and  we 
may  be  certain  that  "  the  child  Jesus  "  was  no  exception,  in  this  respect, 
more  than  in  others,  to  the  general  law.  His  opening  being  must  have 
reflected  all  that  was  good  around  Him,  as  the  flower  reflects  the  colours  of 
the  light. 

Eabbinism  was  then  in  its  full  glory.  The  strong  hand  of  Herod  the 
Great  had  suppressed  all  political  agitation  for  more  than  a  generation, 
with  the  result  of  turning  the  attention  of  the  Eabbis  supremely  to 
religious  questions,  which  alone  were  left  for  their  discussion.  The  ten 
thousand  legal  definitions  and  decisions,  which  are  now  comprised  in 
Jewish  religious  jurisprudence,  were  for  the  most  part  elaborated  in  those 
years,  and  every  devout  Israelite  made  it  the  labour  of  his  life  to  observe 
them  faithfully,  as  far  as  possible.  It  must  not,  therefore,  shock  us, 
accustomed  as  we  are  to  feel  that  religious  acts  lose  their  value  when  not 
free  and  spontaneous,  to  find  minute  prescriptions  laid  down  and  observed 
in  Judea,  for  every  detail  of  public  and  private  life  and  worship.  The 
whole  existence  of  a  Jew  was  religious,  but  it  was  a  religiousness  which. 


EARLY   BOYHOOD.  '  113 

while  the  right  spirit  might  not  be  wanting,  was  yet  claboi'atelj'  mechani- 
cal at  every  step. 

The  East  is  essentially  different  in  its  spirit  from  the  West.  Here,  the 
idea  of  improvement  and  advancement  leads  to  incessant  changes  ;  there, 
an  intense  conservatism  retains  the  past  with  superstitious  tenacity. 
Orientals  cling,  by  nature,  to  the  old,  merely  as  such.  Xovelty  of  any  kind 
is  painful  and  annoying.  They  resist  the  least  innovation.  The  customs 
of  their  fathers  are  law  ;  use  and  wont  are  sacred.  They  are  graver  and 
quieter  than  we.  Noisy  amusements  have  little  attraction  for  them  :  they 
seldom  laugh  or  joke.  The  play  of  wit,  dreamy  thoughtfulness,  atti-active 
narrations  and  inventions,  religious  observances,  and  the  display  of  re- 
ligious festivals,  are  their  sufficing  delights.  "We  must  guard,  therefore, 
against  looking  at  Oriental  life  through  Western  eyes. 

A  devout  Jew  began  his  daily  religious  life  with  his  first  waking  mo- 
ments. "  Every  Israelite,"  says  Maimonides,  "  should  be  penetrated  at 
all  times  by  reverence  for  his  Almighty  Creator.  The  central  thought  of 
the  godly  and  devout  man  is — '  I  have  set  the  Lord  continually  before 
me.'  As  if  he  stood  before  a  king  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  should  never 
forget  the  requirements  of  right  conduct  and  ceremonial  purity."  He 
was  taught  that  his  first  thoughts,  as  soon  as  he  waked,  should  be  directed 
to  the  AYorship  of  God.  Sleep  was  regarded  as  a  kind  of  death,  in  which 
the  soul  leaves  the  body,  to  return  to  it  on  its  awaking,  and  hence  the  first 
words  of  revived  consciousness  were  an  acknowledgment  before  "the 
living  and  everlasting  King,  of  His  having  given  back  the  soul  for  another 
day,  in  His  great  mercy  and  faithfulness."  Thanks  for  new  life  thus 
granted  followed  in  something  like  this  form  : — "  My  God,  the  soul  which 
Thou  hast  given  me  is  clean.  Thou  hast  created  it,  formed  it,  and 
breathed  it  into  me,  and  Thou  wilt  take  it  from  me,  and  restore  it  mc 
again.  While  this  soul  lives  in  me,  I  thank  Thee,  0  Eternal  One,  my  God, 
and  the  God  of  my  fathers !  Lord  of  all  works !  King  of  all  souls ! 
Praised  be  Thou,  O  Eternal,  Thou  who  puttest  the  souls  again  into  dead 
bodies ! " 

Having  risen  from  bed,  it  was  not  lawful  to  move  four  steps  before 
washing  the  hands  and  face,  which  the  Rabbis  taught  was  needed  to 
cleanse  one  from  the  defilement  of  sleep,  as  the  image  of  death.  It  was 
unlawful  to  touch  the  face,  or  any  other  part  of  the  body,  till  this  was 
done,  nor  could  it  be  done  except  in  the  form  prescribed.  Lifting  the 
ewer,  after  dressing,  with  the  right  hand,  it  must  be  passed  into  the  loft, 
and  clear  cold  water,  Eabbinically  clean,  must  be  poured  thrice  over  the 
right  hand,  the  fingers  of  which  must  be  open,  and  must  point  to  the 
ground.  The  left  hand  must  then  be  washed  in  the  same  way,  with  water 
poured  on  it  from  the  right,  and  then  the  face  must  be  washed  three  times. 
The  palms  of  the  hands  must  then  be  joined,  with  the  thumbs  and  fingers 
outstretched,  and  the  Avords  must  be  uttered—"  Lift  up  your  hands  to  the 
sanctuary,  and  praise  the  Lord ! "  Then  followed  the  prayer,  "  Blessed 
art  Thou,  O  Lord,  our  God!  King  of  the  universe!  Thou  who  hast 
sanctified  us  through  Thy  commandments,  and  hast  required  us  to  wash 
the  hands.     Blessed  art  Thou,  0  Eternal,  our  God,  King  of  the  universe! 

I 


114  •  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

wlio  hasfc  formed  man  in  -wisdom,  and  hast  made  in  him  many  vessels.  If 
but  one  of  these  stood  open,  or  was  stopped,  man  conki  not  live  and  remain 
before  Thee.  This  is  evident,  and  confessed  before  the  throne  of  Thy 
majesty.  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Eternal  One,  maintainor  of  all  flesh,  who 
in  Thy  Creation  doest  wonders  !  " 

"With  some  such  forms  and  words,  the  morning  began  in  Joseph's  house 
in  iSTazareth.  But  this  was  only  the  preparation  for  morning  prayers.  It 
was  not  lawful  to  do  any  work,  or  to  eat  any  food,  till  these  had  been 
repeated,  either  at  home,  or  more  properly,  in  the  synagogue,  where  they 
formed  the  daily  morning  service.  I  shall  describe  them  when  I  come  to 
speak  of  the  synagogue  worship. 

The  religiousness  of  the  first  moments  of  the  day  was"  only  in  keeping 
with  the  whole  life  of  a  devout  Jew  like  Joseph.  I  have  mentioned  the 
morning  first  because  our  day  begins  then,  but  that  of  the  Jew  began  in  the 
evening.  From  the  beginning  of  each  day — that  is,  from  the  appearance 
of  the  first  star — to  its  close,  and  from  the  first  day  of  the  week  till  the 
Sabbath :  from  the  be!2;inning  of  each  month  to  its  feasts  and  half -feasts  ; 
from  each  New  Year's  Day  to  the  next ;  and  from  one  Sabbath  year — that 
is,  each  seventh  yeai' — till  another,  the  attention  of  every  Jew  was  fixed 
unintermittedly  on  the  sacred  usages  which  returned  either  daily,  weekly, 
or  at  set  times,  and  kept  his  religion  continually  in  his  mind,  not  only  by 
symbolical  rites,  but  by  prescribed  words.  There  was  little  leisure  for  the 
lighter  jileasures  of  life,  and  little  taste  for  them.  Lengthened  prayers  in 
set  forms  had  to  be  repeated  three  times  each  day,  and  also  at  all  feasts,  half- 
feasts,  and  fast  days;  each  kind  of  day  having  its  special  prayers.  In 
every  week  there  was  a  preparation  day  for  the  Sabbath,  and  there  were 
similar  preparation  days  for  each  feast  in  the  difilerent  months;  public 
worship  was  held  twice  weekly,  each  Monday  and  Thursday,  and  on  feast 
days  and  holy  days.  Three  pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem  were  required  yearly, 
and  others  were  often  undertaken.  A  whole  week  was  occupied  by  "the 
Feast  of  Unleavened  Bread,  and  by  that  of  Tabernacles  and  by  the  Feast 
of  the  Dedication.  Every  Jew  was,  moreover,  occupied  to  a  large  extent, 
through  his  connection  with  the  Temple,  by  tithes,  sacrifices,  and  vows. 
He  visited  the  Holy  Place  as  often  as  possible,  for  prayer,  and  to  offer 
special  gifts.  Ho  had  to  pay  the  most  minute  attention,  continually,  to 
permitted  and  forbidden  food  and  clothing,  and  to  the  strict  observance  of 
all  laws  resioecting  the  accessories  of  his  public  and  private  worshijo,  his 
rolls  of  the  Law,  his  phylacteries,  the  blowing  of  trumpets,  the  gathering 
of  palm  twigs  at  the  right  times,  and  much  more.  The  endless  rules 
respecting  tlie  cleanness  and  uncleanness  of  persons  and  things,  demanded 
the  greatest  care  every  hour.  Both  men  and  Avomen,  as  such,  had  many 
details  to  observe.  Then,  there  were  the  ever-recurring  iisages,  festivities, 
or  events  of  family  life— circumcisions,  betrothals,  marriages,  divorces, 
deaths,  and  mourning;  the  laws  of  the  Sabbath  year,  recurring  periodi- 
cally, and  many  other  diversified  occurrences,  which  had  each  its  prolixity 
of  religious  form,  not  to  be  overlooked.  Besides  all,  extraordinary 
solemnities  were  appointed  on  special  occasions,  and  these,  again,  made 
grave  demands  on  the  thoughtful  care  of  the  whole   population.      No 


EAELY   BOYHOOD.  115 

wonder  that  tli3  Law  v/as  almost  the  one  thing  in  a  Jew's  mind,  or  that  a 
child  brought  up  in  such  an  atmosphere  should,  in  most  cases,  be  blindly 
conservative  and  narrow. 

Opportunity  will  be  taken  hereafter  to  illustrate  what  life  under  the 
Law  really  was,  but  even  without  the  statement  of  details,  it  is  evident  that 
a  system  which  spread  its  close  meshes  over  the  whole  of  life,  must  have 
been  a  heavy  burden  on  the  conscientious,  and  a  fruitful  source  of  hypocrisy 
and  dead  formality  to  the  mass.  The  hedge  invented  by  Eabbinism  was 
a  unique  expansion  of  a  few  written  precepts  to  infinite  detail.  Artificial 
interpretations  of  Scripture,  often  contrary  to  the  sense  and  even  to  the 
letter  of  the  Law,  were  invented  as  occasion  required,  and  then  enforced 
as  of  more  authority  than  the  Law  itself.  The  Rabbi  could  "  bind  and 
loose  " ;  no  case  escaped  his  casuistry :  religion  was  turned  into  a  lifelong 
slavery,  so  burdensome,  that  even  the  Talmud'itself  speaks  of  "the  vexa- 
tious worry  of  the  Pharisees."  Ethics  and  theology  were  refined  into  an 
elaborate  system  of  jurisprudence,  till  even  where  the  requirements  were 
right,  their  morality  was  poisoned  in  its  principles,  and  deadened  the  fresh 
pulses  of  spiritual  life. 

Still  there  were  many  in  Israel  who  retained  more  or  less  of  the  primitive 
godliness  of  the  nation.  If  Eabbinism,  as  a  system,  had  fallen  from  its 
earlier  and  nobler  idea  of  binding  the  nation  permanently  to  the  true 
faith ;  if  it  had  substituted  teaching  for  a  change  of  heart ;  legality  for 
spontaneous  fidelity  ;  endless  prescriptions  for  the  life-giving  spirit,  there 
were  not  a  few,  alike  among  the  Rabbis  and  the  people,  to  whom  the  ex- 
ternal v/as  not  all.  There  may  have  been  a  Rabbi  at  ISTazareth  as  self- 
righteous  as  l^echimza  Ben  Hakana,  who,  when  he  left  his  school,  was 
wont  to  pray—"  I  thank  Thee,  0  Lord,  my  God,  that  Thou  hast  given  me 
my  portion  among  those  who  frequent  the  House  of  Instruction,  and  not 
among  those  who  are  busy  at  the  street  corners,  for  I  rise  early,  and  they 
rise  early;  I  apply  myself  early  to  the  Law,  and  they  to  vain  things;  I 
work,  and  they  work;  I  work,  and  receive  my  reward;  they  work  and 
receive  none ;  I  run,  and  they  run ;  I  ruir  after  eternal  life,  and  they  to 
the  pit."  But  there  may  have  been,  also,  another,  like  the  Rabbi  of 
Jamnia,  who  told  his  scholars,  "  I  am  a  creature  of  God,  and  my  fellow- 
man  is  no  less  so.  I  have  my  calling  in  the  town,  he,  his,  in  the  field.  I 
go  early  to  my  work,  and  he  to  his.  As  ho  is  not  made  proud  )jy  his 
labour,  I  am  not  made  proud  by  mine.  If  you  think  that  I  am  busied  with 
great  matters  and  he  with  small,  rememlDcr  that  true  woi'k,  whether  great 
or  small,  leads  to  the  same  end." 

The  child  Jesus  must  have  often  heard  in  the  house  of  such  a  man  as 
Joseph,  and  in  those  of  his  neighbours  of  like  mind  with  him,  whom  he 
visited,  a  healthy  intelligent  religiousness,  beautiful  in  any  age.  The 
popular  proverbs  and  sayings  Avhich  have  come  down  to  us  may  easily 
bring  back  many  an  evening  scene  in  Nazareth,  when  friends  or  neighbours 
of  Joseph's  circle  met  for  an  hour's  quiet  gossip,  when  their  day's  toil  was 
over.  "  Quite  true,  neighbour,"  we  may  fancy  one  of  such  a  group  saying, 
"he  who  knows  the  Law,  and  has  no  fear  of  God,  is  like  the  ruler  of  the 
synagogue  who  has  only  the  key  of  the  inner  door,  but  not  of  the  outer." 


116  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

"Yes,  Zechariali,  a  God-fearing  Rabbi  is  lilce  a  good  player  who  has  his 
harp  with  him,  but  a  godless  Rabbi  is  like  one  who  has  nothing  on  which 
to  make  music."  "You  speak  truly,  Mcuahcm;  a  godly  man  is  the  glory 
of  a  town,  its  reward,  and  its  ornament ;  if  he  leave  it,  its  glory,  its  re- 
ward, and  its  ornament,  leave  it  with  him."  "  My  father  used  to  tell 
me,"  chimes  in  Hananyah  Ben  Hizkiyah,  "  that  there  are  four  who  never 
have  the  face  of  God  lifted  vipon  them— the  scoffer,  the  liar,  the  hypocrite, 
and  the  slanderer."  "  Rabbi  Nathan,"  says  the  fifth,  "  is  right,  I  think ; 
I  have  heard  him  say  that  the  man  who  stands  firm  in  temptation,  and 
the  hour  of  whose  death  is  like  that  of  his  birth,  is  the  only  man  to  be 
envied." 

Good  counsels  to  the  young  were  not  wanting.  The  Hazaii  who  taught 
the  Nazareth  school  in  the  synagogue,  may  have  told  liis  scholars — "  Get 
close  to  the  seller  of  perfumes  if  you  want  to  be  fragrant."  He  may 
have  given  the  groups  of  little  ones  at  his  feet  words  of  wisdom  such  as 
these— that  "  grapes  on  vines  are  beautiful,  and  in  their  right  place;  but 
grapes  among  thorns  arc  neither."  "  A  Nazarite  should  go  round  about, 
rather  than  corns  near  a  vineyard."  "  A  friend  who,  as  often  as  he 
meets  you,  tells  you,  in  secret,  your  faults,  is  better  than  one  who,  when- 
ever he  meets  you,  gives  you  a  gold  yy'iece."  "  If  you  see  an  humble 
man,  you  may  almost  take  for  granted  that  he  fears  God,  but  a  proud 
man  is  no  better  than  an  idolater."  "  Make  the  best  of  your  childhood  ; 
youth  is  a  crown  of  roses  ;  old  age  of  thorns.  Yet  do  not  fear  death ;  it  is 
only  a  kiss,  if  you  fear  God."  "  Truth  is  the  seal  of  God."  "  Trust  in 
the  mercy  of  God,  even  if  the  sharp  sword  be  at  your  throat ;  He  forsakes 
none  of  His  creatures  to  give  them  up  to  destruction."  "  Take  a  lesson 
from  Jose  Ben  Joezer,  who  was  the  first  Jew  ever  crucified.  He  died  for 
his  faith  in  the  evil  time  of  the  Syrian  kings.  As  he  was  being  led  to 
death,  his  sister's  son,  Alkim,  tried  to  make  him  believe  that  God  showed 
more  favour  to  transgressors  of  the  Law  than  to  the  godly.  He  could 
have  saved  Jose's  life,  if  the  martyr  had  yielded  to  him.  But  Jose  only 
answered,  '  If  God  prepares  such  a  fate  as  mine  for  the  godly,  what  will 
become  of  the  wicked  ?  '—and  passed  on  to  the  cross."  "  The  humble 
man  is  he  who  is  as  reverent  before  God  as  if  he  saw  Him  with  his  eyes.'' 

A  wise  teacher  may  have  spoken  thus  to  the  children  in  the  school,  but 
wise  counsels  would  not  be  wanting  at  home.  Like  all  Orientals,  Joseph 
was,  doubtless,  given  to  speak  in  proverbs  and  parables.  "  One  sheep 
follows  another,"  he  might  have  said.  "As  is  the  mother,  so  is  the 
daughter."  "A  man  without  friends  is  like  the  left  hand  without  the 
right."  "The  road  has  ears,  and  so  has  the  wall."  "It  is  no  matter 
whether  a  man  have  much  or  little,  if  his  heart  be  set  on  heaven."  "A 
good  life  is  better  than  high  birth."  "  The  bread  and  the  rod  came  from 
heaven  together."  "  Seeking  wisdom  when  you  are  old  is  like  writinf 
on  water;  seeking  it  when  you  are  young  is  like  graving  on  stone." 
"  Every  word  you  speak,  good  or  bad,  light  or  serious,  is  "written  in  a 
book."  "Fire  cannot  keep  company  with  flax  without  kindling  it." 
"  In  this  world  a  man  follows  his  own  will ;  in  the  next  comes  the  .judg- 
ment."    "  With  the  same  measure  with  Avhich  a  man  measures  to  others 


EARLY   BOYHOOD.  117 

it  ■will  be  measurecl  to  liim  again."  "  Patience,  and  silence  in  sti'ife,  are 
the  sign  of  a  noble  niiud."  "  lie  who  makes  the  pleasures  of  this  world 
his  portion,  loses  those  of  the  world  to  come ;  but  he  who  seeks  those  of 
heaven,  receives,  also,  those  of  earth."  "  He  who  humbles  himself  will 
be  exalted  by  God;  but  he  who  exalts  himself,  him  will  God  humble." 
'"Whatever  God  docs  is  right."  "Speech  is  silver;  silence  is  worth 
twice  as  much."  "  Sin  hardens  the  heart  of  man."  "  It  is  a  shame  for 
a  plant  to  speak  ill  of  him  who  planted  it."  "  Two  bits  of  dry  wood  set 
a  moist  one  on  fire."  All  these  are  Jewish  sayings,  which  Jesus  may 
well  have  heard  in  His  childhood. 

Nazareth  Avould,  no  doubt,  have  its  finer  sjiirits  who,  from  time  to  time 
shed  the  light  of  their  higher  nature  over  family  gatherings,  and  none  of 
this  could  be  lost  on  such  a  child  as  Jesus.  On  some  glorious  night,  when 
the  moon  was  walking  in  brightness,  a  mind  like  this  may  have  told  the 
children  round  him  some  such  fine  Hebrew  apologue  as  follows  : — 

"The  Eternal  sent  forth  His  creating  voice,  saying,  'Let  two  lights 
shine  in  the  firmament,  as  kings  of  the  earth,  and  dividers  of  the  revolving 
year.' 

"He  spake,  and  it  was  done.  The  sun  rose  as  the  first  Light.  As  a 
bridegroom  comes  forth  in  the  morning  from  his  chaniber;  as  a  hero 
rejoices  on  his  triumphal  march,  so  rose  he,  clothed  in  the  splendour  of 
God.  A  crown  of  all  hues  encircled  his  head;  the  earth  i-ejoiced,  the 
plants  sent  up  their  odours  to  him,  and  the  flowers  put  on  their  best 
array. 

"  The  other  Light  looked  on  with  envy,  as  it  saw  that  it  could  not 
outvie  the  Glorious  One  in  splendour.  '  What  need  is  there,'  it  asked, 
murmuring  to  itself,  'of  two  kings  on  one  throne  ?  Why  was  I  the  second 
instead  of  the  first  ?  ' 

"  Forthwith  its  brightness  faded,  chased  away  by  its  inward  chagrin. 
It  flew  from  it  high  through  the  air,  and  became  the  Host  of  Stars. 

"  The  Moon  stood  pale  as  the  dead,  ashamed  before  all  the  heavenly 
ones,  and  wept — '  Have  pity  on  me.  Father  of  all  creatures,  have  ])ity.' 

"  Then  the  angel  of  God  stood  before  the  Sad  One,  and  told  her  the 
decree  of  the  Highest.  '  Because  thou  hast  envied  the  light  of  the  Sun, 
unhappy  one,  henceforth  thou  Avilt  only  shine  by  his  light,  and  when 
yonder  earth  comes  between  thee  and  him  thou  wilt  stand  darkened,  in 
part,  or  entirely,  as  now. 

"  '  Yet,  Child  of  Error,  weep  not.  The  Merciful  One  has  forgiven  thy 
sin,  and  turned  it  to  good  for  thee.  "  Go,"  said  He,  "  speak  comfortably 
to  tlie  Sorrowful  One ;  she  will  be,  at  least,  a  queen,  in  her  brightness. 
The  tears  of  her  sorrow  will  be  a  balm  to  quicken  all  living  things,  and 
renew  the  strength  which  the  beams  of  the  Sun  have  made  faint."  ' 

"The  Moon  went  away  comforted,  and,  lo,  there  streamed  round  her 
that  briglitness  in  which  she  still  shines :  she  set  forth  on  that  peaceful 
path  in  which  she  still  moves,  as  Queen  of  the  Night  and  leader  of  the 
stars.  Lamenting  her  sin,  and  pitying  the  tears  of  men,  she  seeks  whom 
she  can  revive,  and  looks  for  any  one  she  can  cheer." 

Such,  no  doubt,  would  be  some  of  the  characteristics  of  Nazareth  life. 


118  THE   LIFE    OP   CHEIST. 

Every  oue  would  know  every  oue ;  industry  and  idleness ;  worth  and 
vice;  pleasure  and  sadness;  would  be  around  the  growing  Child.  The 
oxen  ploughing  the  little  valley  below  the  town  and  the  great  plain 
outside,  would  often  arrest  His  eyes ;  the  asses  and  mules,  and  camels 
laden  with  goods  or  produce,  would  pass  then,  as  now,  np  the  raountain 
track  to  the  narroAV  Nazareth  streets  :  the  different  trades  of  the  village 
would  be  busy,  as  they  are  still.  The  wise  and  the  simple  :  the  clown  and 
the  scholar  :  the  poor  and  the  rich  :  the  soiled  workman  and  the  proud 
squire  :  helpless  infancy,  and  as  helpless  age ;  the  school,  the  playground, 
the  market,  the  court,  the  synagogue,  and  the  cemetery,  would  each  in 
turn  be  prominent  for  the  time.  But  it  would  be  under  Joseph's  roof,  as 
in  a  silken  nest,  with  the  counsels  of  Joseph,  and  the  gentle  and  lofty 
devoutncss  of  Maiy,  that  the  young  soul,  destined  one  day  to  be  so  great, 
would  learn  its  richest  lessons  of  childhood. 

At  a  very  early  age,  Jesus  would  be  taken  to  the  synagogue  with 
Joseph  and  Mary,  and  the  other  children  of  the  ISI'azareth  family  circle, 
for  even  then  that  institution  had  become  the  banner  of  Jewish  nationality, 
the  centre  of  national  life,  and  the  regis  of  the  Jewish  faith,  whose 
services  no  Israelite  would  thhik  of  neglecting. 

The  importance  of  the  Synagogue  dates  not  later  than  the  age  of  the 
Maccabees.  It  rose  from  the  institution,  by  Ezra,  of  periodical  readings 
of  the  Law  in  public.  Its  eaidiest  history  is  not  known,  for  we  can  hardly 
trust  the  Rabbinical  traditions,  that  there  were  hundreds  in  Jerusalem 
under  the  second  Temple.  But  the  germ  of  the  Synagogue  doubtless 
existed  in  Babylon.  The  exiles  could  no  longer  offer  their  sacrifices,  for 
this  could  be  done  only  in  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  Hence  they  naturally 
betook  themselves  to  prayer,  and  lifted  their  hands,  in  their  loneliness,  to 
God,  at  the  times  when  their  sacrifices  were  wont  to  be  consumed.  Instead 
of  these  they  presented  their  prayers,  and  prophets  like  Ezekiel,  on  the 
Sabbath,  spoke  to  them  of  their  duty.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  Law  itself 
had  been  well-nigh  unknown  during  the  exile,  from  the  fact  of  Ezra 
summoning  the  people  to  hear  it,  as  something  which  they  had  trans- 
gressed, from  ignorance  of  its  requirements.  To  him,  apparently,  belongs 
the  signal  honour  of  introducing  the  custom  of  constant  public  reading  of 
the  sacred  books  before  the  congregations  of  the  people,  and  of  taking  care 
that,  as  Hebrew  was  no  longer  understood,  interpreters  should  be  provided, 
to  translate  the  Scripture  lessons,  at  the  public  services,  into  the  spoken 
dialect.  Established,  first,  in  Jerusalem,  synagogues  soon  spread  over 
the  land,  and  even  beyond  it,  wherever  Jews  had  settled,  till  they 
gradually  became  the  great  characteristic  of  the  nation.  For,  thoucrh 
the  services  of  the  Temple  were  yet  cherished,  the  Synagogue,  by  its 
local  convenience,  its  supreme  influence  in  fixing  Jewish  religious  opinion, 
and  its  natural  importance  as  the  centre  of  each  community,  and  the  basis 
of  their  social  life,  carried  with  it  the  seeds  of  the  destruction  of  the 
strictly  local  Temple  service.  The  priest,  henceforth,  was  of  less  import- 
ance than  the  lay  Babbi,  for  while  the  one  touched  life  at  only  a  few 
points,  the  other  directed  its  every  movement.  In  Christ's  day  there 
were  synagogues  everywhere.     In  Jerusalem,  alone,  there  gradually  rose. 


EARLY   BOYHOOD.  '  119 

according  to  tlie  Talmud,  no  fewer  than  480.  Tiberias  had  thirteen, 
Damascus  ten,  and  other  cities  and  towns,  in  proportion  to  their  popula- 
tion. But  the  Mother  Synagogue  in  the  Temple  still  remained,  as  it  were, 
the  model  after  which  all  other  synagogues  were  organized. 

Whei'ever  ten  Jews  were  settled,  it  was  incumbent  on  them  to  forn? 
themselves  into  a  congregation,  and  have  synagogue  service  Where  tlr 
Jewish  population  was  small,  open  structures  on  the  banks  of  rivers,  or  ot 
the  seashore  were  preferred,  from  their  convenience  for  the  necessary 
purifications ;  but,  whenever  it  was  possible,  a  synagogue  was  erected  by 
the  free  contributions  of  the  people.  Sometimes,  indeed,  a  rich  man 
built  one  at  his  own  expense.  The  ruins  of  tliose  in  Galilee,  Christ's  own 
country,  enable  us  to  learn  many  particulars  respecting  this  locality  at 
least.  In  selecting  sites,  the  builders  by  no  means  always  chose  prominent 
jDositions.  If,  in  some  cases,  the  Rabbinical  requirements  were  observed 
that  the  synagogue  should  be  raised  on  the  highest  part  of  the  town,  and 
its  entrance  be  on  the  western  side,  they  were,  seemingly,  more  frequently 
neglected.  The  ruins  of  the  old  synagogues  in  the  district  on  the  Sea  of 
Galilee,  and  north  of  it,  are  sometimes  in  the  lower  part  of  the  town,  and 
at  others  have  had  a  site  excavated  for  them  in  the  rocky  side  of  a  hill. 
Their  entrances  are  almost  always  at  the  southern  end,  an  arrangement 
hardly  to  have  been  expected,  as  it  required  every  Jew,  on  entering,  to 
turn  his  back  to  Jerusalem. 

The  building  was  always  rectangular,  with  its  longest  dimension  in  a 
nearly  south  and  north  direction,  and  its  interior  divided  into  five  aisles, 
by  four  rows  of  columns,  unless  it  was  very  small,  when  two  rows  of 
columns  were  used,  making  only  three  aisles.  The  walls  were  well  and 
solidly  built  of  native  limestone  :  the  stones  "  chiselled  "  into  each  other, 
without  mortar,  and,  while  finely  dressed  outside,  left  rough  on  the  inner 
side,  for  plastering.  The  entrances  were  three  in  number ;  one  large 
doorway,  opening  into  the  central  aisle,  and  a  smaller  one  on  each  side, 
though  sometimes,  in  small  synagogues,  there  was  only  one  entrance. 
Folding  doors,  with  socket  hinges,  closed  by  bars  on  the  inside,  gave  them 
security.  Over  the  doors  was  more  ornament  than  Ave  might  have  ex- 
pected— sculptures  of  the  golden  candlestick — or  of  the  pot  of  manna — or 
of  the  paschal  lamb — or  the  vine.  The  fioors  were  paved  with  slabs  of 
white  limestone,  and  the  arrangement  of  the  columns  was  the  same  in  all. 
The  spaces  between  these  were  very  small,  though  the  columns  themselves 
were  sometimes  elaborately  finished  with  Corinthian  and  Ionic  capitals. 
Blocks  of  stone  laid  from  column  to  column  received  the  wooden  rafters, 
which  were  bedded  deeply  in  these  supports,  for  strength,  and  were  very 
broad  as  well  as  thick,  to  bear  up  a  flat  roof,  covered  heavily  with  earth, 
which  was  the  fashion  in  private  houses  also,  as  it  still  is  in  nearly  all 
Arab  dwellings,  as  best  adapted  for  keeping  out  the  intense  heat  of  the 
sun.  The  ruins  are  too  imperfect  to  show  the  arrangement  of  tho 
windows. 

The  synagogues  wei'e  open  every  day  for  three  services ;  but  as  those 
of  the  afternoon  and  evening  were  always  "joined,  there  were,  in  reality, 
only  two.     It  was  the  duty  of  every  godly  Jew  to  go  to  each  service,  for 


120  ■         THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

so  sacred  was  daily  attendance,  that  the  Eahbis  taught  that  "he  who 
practised  it  saved  Israel  from  the  heathen."  The  two  market  days, 
Monday  and  Thursday,  when  the  country  people  came  into  town,  and  when 
the  courts  were  held,  and  the  Sabbaths,  were  the  special  times  of  public 
worshi]5.     Feast  days,  and  fasts,  were  also  marked  by  similar  sacredness. 

The  interior  of  the  synagogues  was  arranged,  as  far  as  possible,  after 
the  model  of  the  Tabernacle  or  the  Temple.  Before  the  doors  of  some,  a 
sunken  space  for  a  porch  formed  a  counterpart  to  the  forecourt  of  the 
sanctuary.  The  space  immediately  inside  was  for  the  congregation.  A 
little  beyond  the  middle,  a  raised  and  enclosed  platform,  in  the  centre  of 
the  floor,  in  some  measure  corresponded  to  the  altar.  Here  the  official 
stood  to  conduct  the  services,  by  reading  from  the  sacred  books  and 
chanting  the  prayers.  In  the  wall  at  the  farther  end  was  a  recess,  before 
which  hung  a  veil ;  the  recess  the  equivalent  of  the  Holy  of  Holies ;  the 
veil,  of  the  one  before  that  mysterious  chamber  in  the  Temple.  In  this 
niche  were  kept  the  Sacred  Rolls,  wrapped  in  several  covers  of  linen  and 
silk  ;  the  outer  one  adorned,  as  means  allowed,  with  gold  and  silver.  The 
Rabbis  required  that  the  shrine  should  look  towards  Jerusalem,  but  this 
was  not  generally  provided  for  in  the  Galilean  synagogues  of  Christ's  day. 
Before  it  always  hung  an  ever-burning  lamp — the  I'epresentative  of  the 
"eternal  fire"  in  the  holy  place  in  the  Temple,  and  at  its  side  stood  a 
large  eight -branched  lamp,  like  the  "  golden  candlestick  "  of  the  Temjjle, 
which  is  sculptured  on  the  Arch  of  Titus.  It  was  adorned  with  inscrip- 
tions, and  was  kept  for  the  illumination  made  at  the  Feast  of  the 
Dedication,  each  December,  when  the  joy  of  the  nation  at  the  rekindling 
of  the  lamps  in  the  Temple,  after  the  triumph  of  Judas  Maccabaeus,  was 
celebrated  for  eight  days  together.  Other  lamps  hung  up  and  down  the 
synagogue  to  illuminate  it  during  the  Sabbath  evening  service,  whether 
needed  or  not,  in  honour  of  the  day,  as  was  done  also  in  private  houses. 
Rabbis  and  the  elders  of  the  synagogue  sat  on  raised  cushions  in  the 
"  chief  seats,"  next  the  shrine,  facing  the  people.  The  men  of  the  congre- 
gation filled  the  open  floor  next  these,  and  in  small  synagogues,  the  women, 
separated  by  a  lattice,  sat  with  their  backs  to  the  men.  Where  space 
allowed,  however,  a  flat  gallery  was  built  for  them,  but,  in  any  case,  they 
were  not  visible  to  the  other  sex.  Trumpets  for  proclaiming  the  new 
moon,  and  for  publishing  sentences  of  excommunication,  formed  part  of 
the  furniture,  but  were  kept  in  the  house  of  the  Hazan.  In  the  porch  was 
a  tablet  with  prayers  for  the  reigning  prince,  and  another  with  the  names 
of  any  who  had  been  excommunicated,  while  below  them  were  boxes  to 
receive  the  alms  of  the  congregation,  as  they  entered,  for  the  poor. 

The  greatest  reverence  was  paid  by  every  Jew  to  his  synagogue.  It 
could  not  be  built  near  a  public  bath,  or  a  wash-house,  or  a  tannery,  and, 
if  it  were  taken  down,  no  one  would  on  any  account  cross  the  ground  on 
which  it  had  stood. 

The  chief  authorities  of  the  Synagogue  were  a  council  of  elders,  of 
whom  one  acted  as  head,  though  only  the  first  among  equals.  They 
pronounced  excommunications,  delivered  sentences  on  offenders  of  various 
kinds,  managed  the  charities  of  the  congregation,  and  attended  to  the 


EARLY   BOYHOOD.  121 

wants  of  strangei's,  forming  a  local  counterpart  of  the  "  oklers  of  the 
people,"  who,  through  the  whole  history  of  Israel,  formed  a  kind  of 
national  senate, — and  of  those  humbler  "elders"  who  constituted  the 
ruling  body  over  towns  and  districts,  as  their  predecessoi's  had  done  over 
the  different  tribes.  It  marks  the  simple  and  healthy  basis  of  society 
in  Israel,  that  the  one  idea  of  the  family  and  household,  ruled  by  its  head, 
thus  lay  at  its  root,  as  is  indeed  implied  in  the  very  name — House  of 
Israel— by  which  the  nation,  as  a  Avhole,  was  known.  The  head  ruler  or 
elder  of  the  Synagogue  was  formally  consecrated  by  the  laying  on  of 
hands. 

The  inferior  offices  were  held  by  various  officials.  The  Hazan,  or 
"minister,"  had  the  charge  of  the  building,  of  cleaning  the  lamps, 
opening  and  closing  the  doors,  and  doing  any  other  necessary  servile  work, 
like  a  modern  sexton ;  besides  acting  as  messenger  to  the  rulers.  But 
he,  also,  in  many  cases,  led  the  prayers  and  chants.  It  was  his  part  to 
hand  the  roll  of  the  Law  to  the  Eeader  for  the  time,  pointing  out  the 
proper  lesson  of  the  day.  The  Eeader,  as  representative  of  the  congrega- 
tion, had  to  blow  the  trumpet  at  the  new  moon,  and  to  strew  ashes  on  his 
head  on  fast  days.  The  alms  of  the  congregation  were  collected  and 
distributed  by  special  officers,  of  Avhom  two  were  required  to  act  together 
in  the  receiving :  three  in  the  distribution.  There  seems  to  have  been 
no  functionary  for  reading  the  prayers,  which  was  done  iu  the  name  of 
the  congregation,  and  by  its  authority,  by  any  one  empowered  for  the 
time.  Any  memljer  of  the  congregation,  unless  he  were  a  minor,  was 
qualified  to  do  so.  As  a  rule,  however,  it  is  likely  that  the  Hazan  generally 
led  the  chanting,  and  read  the  ordinary  lessons.  A  curious  feature  in  the 
organization  was,  that  in  each  synagogue,  ten  men,  known  as  Batlanim, 
were  paid  to  attend  every  service  fi'om  its  opening  to  its  close,  that  there 
might  never  be  fewer  present  than  the  Rabbis  required  to  constitute  a 
lawful  service. 

There  seems  to  have  been  only  one  synagogue  in  Nazareth,  so  that,  as 
all  the  Jews  in  the  town  doubtless  attended  it,  a  large  proportion  of  the 
population  must  have  been  other  than  Israelites,  or  the  town  itself  must 
have  been  small,  to  judge  from  the  size  of  other  synagogues  of  Galilee, 
whose  ruins  have  been  discovered.  The  congregation  would,  in  many 
respects,  be  very  different  from  Western  notions.  The  men  came  in  the 
long,  flowing,  and,  to  us,  feminine-looking  dress  of  the  East;  their  heads 
covered  with  turbans  of  various  colours — some  simple,  others  costly— or 
with  the  plain  kcfij^eh,  a  kerchief  of  cotton,  linen,  or  silk,  of  various 
colours,  folded  so  that  three  of  the  corners  hung  over  the  back  and  shoul- 
ders, leaving  the  face  exposed,  and  loosely  held  round  the  head  by  a  cord 
— as  is  still  the  Arab  custom ;  their  clothing,  only  a  long  white  or  striped 
tunic,  of  linen  or  cotton,  with  sleeves,  next  the  body — bound  at  the  loins 
by  a  sash  or  girdle, — and  a  loose  abba  or  cloak  thrown  over  it ;  their  bare 
feet  shod  with  sandals.  Over  the  abba  some  would  wear  a  wide  scarf  of 
white  wool,  thin  and  light;  with  bars  of  red,  purple  and  blue;  but  with 
many,  this  scarf,  enlarged  to  an  abba,  would  be  the  only  outer  garment. 
A  few  rich  men^  might,  perhaps,  wear  one  of  silk,  adorned  with  silver  or 


122  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

gold.     This  %yas  the  Tallith,  an  indispensable  part  of  the  clothing  of  a 
Jew.      From  its  four  corners  hung  four  tassels  of  eight  threads  a-piece, 
of  hyacinth  blue,  of  wool  alone,  woven  and  made  up  with  superstitious 
care,  as  a  half  religious  art,  by  a  Jew  only.     These  were  the  Zizitli,  or 
fringes,  woi-n  in  fulfilment  of  an  express  commandment  of  Moses,  that  the 
sight  of  them  might  make  the  wearer  "  remember  all  the  commandments 
of  the  Lord,  and  do  them."     So  sacred,  indeed,  were  they,  that  a  smaller 
Tallith,  as   well,   duly  provided   with   them,  was   worn   underneath  his 
clothing  by  every  Jew,  from  his  earliest  years,  and  he  had  been  taught, 
even  in  childhood,  never  to  put  it  on  without  repeating  the  prayer— 
"  Blessed  art  Thou,  0  Lord,  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  hast  sanc- 
tified us  with  Thy  commandments,  and  given  us  the  commandment  of  the 
fringes."     The  outer  Tallith,  indeed,  was  only  worn  because  tlie  fringes  of 
this  one  vrere  covered  up,  and  could  not  be  kissed,  as  the  Eabbis  required, 
from  time  to  time,  during  one  of  the  synagogue  prayers.     The  right  use 
of  the  lessons  of  the  fringes  a  Jew  believed  equivalent  to  keeping  the 
whole  Law,  for  the  Eabbis  told  him  that,  as  the  letters  of  the  name  Zizith, 
used  as  figures,  made  up  the  number  600,  they  and  the  five  knots  and 
eight  threads  are  equal  to  the  whole  613  precepts  of  the  Law. 

The  Jewish  mothers  and  daughters  of  IsTazareth,  as  they  made  their 
way  to  the  synagogue,  were  not  less  Oriental  and  strange.  They  were 
always  veiled  in  white  at  public  worship,  and  not  unfrequently  at  other 
times.  Their  flowing  mantles  showed  as  great  variety  of  colour  as  female 
dress  does  now,  but  they  were  much  the  same  in  shape  as  they  had  been 
for  centuries.  Like  many  of  the  men,  they  wore  turbans,  but  they  showed 
a  contrast  to  the  other  sex  in  their  ornaments.  On  week  days  they  wore 
nose  rings,  but  they  were  not  allowed  to  wear  these  on  the  Sabbath, 
though  they  indulged  in  earrings,  and  metal  armlets,  and  necklaces  and 
leg  rings,  which  tinkled  as  their  Avearers  walked.  Their  feet,  like  those  of 
the  men,  were  shod  with  sandals.  The  males  of  a  family  might  go  to  the 
synagogue  any  way  they  chose,  but  the  women  Avent  only  by  back  streets, 
to  avoid  the  gaze  of  men.  All,  alike,  were  required  to  greet  no  one,  and  to 
make  no  reverence,  whoever  passed,  nor  to  loiter  by  the  way,  lest  it 
should  distract  their  minds  from  thinking  upon  God.  At  the  threshold  all 
laid  aside  their  sandals,  for  it  was  unbecoming  to  enter  even  one's  oath 
house  with  shod  feet,  far  less  the  house  of  God ;  but,  for  the  same  reason, 
all  kept  their  heads  covered  during  the  whole  service.  Every  man,  on 
entering,  prepared  to  put  on  his  Tephillin  or  phylacteries,  which  must  be 
worn  every  day  during  morning  prayer.  They  consisted  of  two  small 
parchment  boxes,  about  an  inch  square,  one  divided  into  four  parchment 
compartments,  the  other  left  undivided.  On  the  two  sides  was  stamped 
the  letter  U),  as  part  of  the  word  Shaddai — one  of  tlie  names  of  the 
Almighti^  Four  slips  of  parchment,  each  about  an  inch  wide  and  eight 
inches  long,  inscribed  with  the  verses— Deut.  vi.  4-9;  Dent.  ix.  13-21; 
Exod.  xiii.  2-10 ;  and  Exod.  xiii.  11-16,  were  placed  in  the  different  com- 
partments of  the  first,  a  parchment  lid  enclosing  the  whole,  with  long 
leather  thongs  attached,  to  bind  it  on  the  forehead.  The  second  box  was 
exactly  the  same,  except  that  its  interior  was  not  divided,  and  the  verses 


EARLY   BOYHOOD.  123 

of  Scripture  enclosed  were  written,  in  four  columns,  on  one  piece  of  parch- 
ment. 

The  former  of  these  phylacteries,  or  amulets,  was  bound  on  the  forehead, 
exactly  between  the  eyes,  before  morning  prayer  began ;  the  other  on  the 
left  arm,  opposite  the  heart,  its  thongs  being  wound  seven  times  round  the 
arm  and  thrice  round  the  middle  finger.  Their  wearer  was  now  i-eady  to 
take  part  in  the  services.  As  in  the  case  of  the  Tallith,  the  Tephillin  were 
put  on  with  words  of  prayer  in  the  prevailing  language  of  the  country. 

The  worship  of  the  synagogue  was  limited  to  prayer  and  reading  the 
Law  and  the  Prophets,  for  though  a  Eabbi  or  other  person,  if  present, 
might  be  asked  to  speak,  this  was  an  addition  to  the  prescribed  forms. 
The  service  began  with  silent  prayer  by  all  present,  the  congregation 
standing  during  this  as  during  all  the  prayers.  Then  the  Eeader,  wearing 
his  Tallith,  having  entered  the  raised  enclosure  in  the  middle  of  the  syna- 
gogue, recited  a  prayer  of  adoration  from  the  desk — "  Blessed  be  Thou  by 
whose  word  the  world  was  created ;  blessed  be  Thou  for  ever !  Blessed  be 
Thou  who  hast  made  all  out  of  nothing ;  blessed  be  He  who  orders  and  con- 
firms; blessed  be  He  who  has  pity  on  the  earth;  blessed  be  He  who  has  pity 
on  His  creatures ;  blessed  be  He  who  richly  rewards  His  saints  ;  blessed  be 
He  who  lives  for  ever,  and  is  for  ever  the  same ;  blessed  be  He,  the  Saviour 
and  Eedeemer !  Blessed  be  Thy  name !  Blessed  be  Thou,  0  Eternal  I 
Our  God !  King  of  the  universe  !  All-Merciful  God  and  Father !  Thy 
people  utter  Thy  praise  with  their  lips  :  Thy  godly  servants  proclaim  Thy 
glory  and  honour.  We  would  praise  Thee,  Eternal  Lord  God,  with  the 
psalms  of  Thy  servant  David;  we  would  laud  and  magnify  Thee  with 
songs  of  thanksgiving  and  praise.  We  do  homage  to  Thy  name,  our  King, 
our  God,  the  only  One,  He  who  liveth  for  ever,  0  Lord,  whose  name  is 
glorious  for  ever  and  ever  !  Blessed  be  Thou,  O  Eternal !  Lord,  blessed 
be  Thou  in  songs  of  praise !  "  To  this,  as  to  all  prayers,  the  congregation 
answered.  Amen. 

Eeadiiigs  from  difi:erent  parts  of  the  Scripture  then  followed,  in  part  a 
collection  of  separate  verses,  in  part  connected  extracts,  ending  with  the 
last  six  Psalms,  this  introductory  portion  of  the  service  closing  with 
another  short  but  exalted  prayer.  A  few  verses  more  from  Scripture 
followed,  and  then  came  the  Song  of  Moses  at  the  Passage  of  the  Eed 
Sea,  and  another  short  prayer. 

Presently  the  Eeader  summoned  the  congregation  to  join  in  a  short 
responsive  utterance  of  praise  known  as  the  Kadish.  "  Praise  the  Lord," 
said  he,  "  who  is  worthy  to  be  praised,"  and  to  this  the  people,  bowing 
responded,  "Praised  be  the  Lord,  who  is  ever  and  eternally  worthy  of 
praise  !  "  and  so,  through  several  antiphonies. 

It  was  obligatory  on  every  Jew  to  repeat  certain  verses  twice  every 
day,  morning  and  evening.  These  were  now  read.  They  were  known  by 
the  name  of  Sch'ma,  or  "  Hear,"  from  their  beginning  with  the  words, 
"  Hear,  0  Israel,  the  Eternal,  our  God,  is  one  Eternal  God."  Two  prayers 
preceded  them ;  the  one,  heard  with  joy  and  yet  with  trembling,  exalting 
God  for  His  Majesty  in  the  heavens,  amidst  the  armies  of  the  angels.  It 
was  believed  to  he  listened  to  by  all  heaven,  God  Himself  and  the  angels 


121  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

responding,  at  its  close — "  Happy  the  people  in  such  a  ca.^e ;  happy  the 
people  whose  God  is  Jehovah  !  "  The  othei"  thanked  God  for  His  love  to 
Israel,  and  asked  enlightenment  in  His  holy  law.  Another  short  prayer 
was  now  read,  thanking  Him  for  the  mighty  works  He  had  done  for  their 
fathers,  especially  in  delivering  them  from  Egypt,  and  ending  with  suppli- 
cation for  delivery  as  a  nation  from  their  evil  state.  The  closing  words 
chanted  by  the  Reader  were  striking^"Rock  of  Israel!  up  !  to  the  help  of 
Israel :  save,  for  Thy  promise  sake,  Judah  and  Israel !  Save  us,  Eternal 
God,  eternal  God  of  Hosts  !  whose  name  is  the  Holy  One  of  Israel. 
Blessed  be  Thou,  O  Eternal,  who  of  old  didst  redeem  Israel !  " 

During  all  these  prayers  the  congregation  stood,  with  their  faces 
towards  the  shrine  of  the  Law.  Only  the  Reader  spoke  :  the  congregation 
simply  responded  "  Amen,"  except  at  the  Kadish. 

Now  commenced  the  second  part  of  the  service— the  repeating  of  the 
"  prayers  known  as  the  eighteen  Benedictions,"  or  simply  as  "  The 
Prayer."  It  was  originally  drawn  up  by  the  men  of  the  Great  Syna- 
gogue, but  finally  arranged  in  its  present  form,  with  one  or  two  addi- 
tional prayers,  about  the  year  100  after  Christ.  The  whole  were  spoken 
by  the  entire  congregation  softly,  and  then  aloud  by  the  Reader,  and  this 
was  repeated  at  the  evening  service,  it  being  required  of  every  Israelite 
that  he  should  repeat  them  all,  for  himself,  three  times  every  day,  just  as 
he  Avas  required  to  repeat  the  Sch'ma  twice  daily.  During  this  series  of 
prayers  the  whole  congregation  stood,  immovable,  with  their  faces  towards 
the  shrine,  and  their  feet  close  together,  in  an  attitude  of  fixed  devotion. 
At  the  besfinning  and  close  of  the  first  and  sixteenth  Benedictions  all  Ijent 
the  knee,  and  bowed  their  heads  to  the  earth.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
Sch'ma,  these  prayers  were  read  without  the  change  or  addition  of  a  word. 
After  the  congregation  had  recited  them  the  Reader,  still  standing  in  the 
raised  enclosure,  took  three  steps  backwards,  then  three  forwards :  stood 
quite  still,  and  commenced,  "  Lord,  open  Thou  our  lips,  that  our  mouth 
may  show  forth  Thy  praise !  "  "I  will  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord ; 
ascribe  ye  greatness  unto  our  God!"  The  first  three  prayers  of  the 
eighteen  contained  ascriptions  of  praise,  the  last  three,  thanksgivings,  and 
the  twelve  between,  supplications  for  the  nation  and  for  individuals.  As 
the  Reader  closed,  he  recited  the  words — "  We,  here  below,  would  hallow 
Thy  name,  as  it  is  hallowed  in  heaven,  as  is  written  in  the  prophets — 

"  One  cried  to  another,  and  said .' "     The  congregation  then  responded 

"  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts  :  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  His 
glory  !  "  Then  the  Reader  began  again :  "  They  who  stand  before  Him 
say,  '  Blessed ; '  "  and  the  congregation  answered,  "  Blessed  be  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  from  His  place."  The  Reader,  once  more,  began :  "  In  Thy  holy 
Scripture  it  is  written  :  "  and  the  congregation  answered,  "  The  Lord  shall 
reign  for  ever,  even  Thy  God,  0  Zion,  unto  all  generations.     Hallelujah  !  " 

On  Mondays  and  Thursdays,  and  on  Sabbaths,  the  Law  was  now  read. 
For  the  Sabbaths,  the  five  Books  of  Moses  were  divided  into  fifty  sections, 
of  seven  lessons  each,  and  a  complete  section  was  repeated  each  Sabbath, 
so  that  the  Law  was  read  through  in  a  year.  At  the  end  of  each  lesson, 
and  at  its  beginning,  a  collect  was  road,  and  between  each,  the  Expositor 


EARLY   LOYIIOOD.  125 

—a.  member  of  the  congregation  who  had  been  invited  for  the  purpose, 
and  who  stood  in  tlie  desk  beside  the  Reader  while  the  lesson  was  being 
read — delivered  a  short  address  from  it.  A  priest,  if  present,  had  the  first 
invitation,  then  a  Levite ;  any  one  who  seemed  to  know  the  Law  coming 
after.  The  roll  of  the  Prophets  was  handed  to  him  by  the  Reader  after 
the  closing  collect  of  the  lesson.  At  each  service  there  was  thus  a  series 
of  short  comments.  One  Expositor  gave  a  general  address  on  the  Law 
embodied  in  the  lesson  :  another,  an  exhortation  based  on  it,  and  a  third 
expounded  the  allegorical  mysteries  it  shadowed  forth.  Each,  however, 
was  expected  to  illustrate  the  three  cardinal  points  of  Jewish  piety — the 
love  of  God,  of  virtue,  and  of  one's  neighbour,  this  last  duty  being  addi- 
tionally enforced  by  a  collection  in  the  boxes  at  the  door,  "  for  the  land  of 
Israel.'" 

Very  few  relics  of  these  synagogue  addresses  survive,  but  we  are  able 
even  from  these,  as  preserved  in  the  Talmud,  to  realize  their  general 
characteristics.  Short,  and  in  great  measure  made  up  of  proverbs,  natural 
imagery,  and  parables,  they  were  very  different  from  our  sermons.  One 
example  will  suffice.  An  ancient  address  from  the  same  chapter  of  Isaiah 
from  which  Jesus  took  His  text  in  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth,  runs  thus 
— the  special  words  commented  on  being,  "  He  hath  clothed  me  with  the 
garments  of  salvation"  : — 

"  There  are  seven  garments,"  says  the  speaker,  "  which  the  Holy  One, 
blessed  be  His  name,  has  put  on  since  the  world  began,  or  will  put  on  before 
the  hour  when  He  will  visit  with  His  wrath  the  crodless  Edom.  When  He 
created  the  world  He  clothed  Himself  in  honour  and  glory,  for  it  says : 
'  Thou  art  clothed  witli  honour  and  glory.'  When  He  showed  Himself  at 
the  Rod  Sea  He  clothed  Himself  in  majesty,  for  it  says :  '  TJie  Lord 
reigneth,  He  is  clothed  with  majesty.'  "When  He  gave  the  Law  He  clothed 
Himself  with  might,  for  it  says  :  '  Jehovah  is  clothed  with  might,  where- 
with He  hath  girded  Himself.'  As  often  as  He  forgave  Israel  its  sins  He 
clothed  Himself  in  white,  for  it  says  :  '  His  garment  was  white  as  snow.' 
When  He  punishes  the  nations  of  the  world  He  puts  on  the  garments  of 
vengeance,  for  it  says  :  '  He  put  on  the  garments  of  vengeance  for  clothing, 
and  was  clad  with  zeal  as  a  cloak.'  He  will  put  on  the  sixth  robe  when  the 
Messiah  is  revealed.  Then  will  He  clothe  Himself  in  righteousness,  for  it, 
says  : '  For  He  put  on  righteousness  as  a  breastplate,  and  an  helmet  of  salva- 
tion on  His  head.'  He  will  put  on  the  seventh  robe  when  He  punishes  Edom. 
Then  will  He  clothe  Himself  in  Adom  (red),  for  it  says  :  '  Wherefore  art 
Thou  red  in  Thine  apparel  ? '  But  the  robes  with  which  He  will  clothe  the 
Messiah  will  shine  from  one  end  of  the  world  to  the  other,  for  it  says  : 
'  As  a  bridegroom  who  is  crowned  with  his  turljan,  like  a  priest.'  And  the 
sons  of  Israel  will  rejoice  in  His  light,  and  will  say,  '  Blessed  be  the  hour 
when  the  Messiah  was  born,  blessed  the  womb  which  bore  Him,  blessed  the 
eyes  that  were  counted  worthy  to  see  Him.  For  the  opening  of  His  lips 
is  blessing  and  peace.  His  siieech  is  rest  to  the  soul,  the  thouglits  of  His 
heart  confidence  and  joy,  the  speech  of  His  lips  pardon  and  forgiveness, 
His  prayer  like  the  sweet-smelling  savour  of  a  sacrifice,  His  supplications 
holiness  and  purity.'    0  how  blessed  is  Israel  for  whom  such  a  hjt  is  rcscr- 


126  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

vcd,  for  it  says :  '  How  great  is  Thy  goodness  which  Thou  hasfc  laid  np 
for  them  that  fear  Thee,'  " 

On  Mondays  and  Thursdays  the  first  of  the  seven  lessons  for  the  next 
Sunday  was  read,  but  it  was  divided  into  three  portions,  before  each  of 
which  one  of  the  congregation  was  called  up  to  the  desk. 

A  few  prayers  more  from  the  Reader,  and  the  service  was  ended,  with  a 
parting  benediction  delivered  by  a  priest  Avith  uplifted  hands,  if  one  were 
present ;  if  not,  by  the  Reader.  The  prayers  were  repeated  in  the  common 
dialect  of  Palestine  as  a  rule,  but  in  Greek  towns,  such  as  Cassarea,  they 
were  also  recited  in  Greek.  The  Hebrew  or  Chaldee  of  the  Law  or  the 
Prophets  was  translated  into  the  spoken  language  by  an  interpreter,  who 
stood  by  the  side  of  the  Reader. 

Such  was  the  morning  service.  In  the  afternoon  the  congregation  met 
once  more  ;  heard  a  shorter  service,  and  frequently  remained,  listening  to 
addresses,  till  lamplight  in  the  evening.  The  "Amen"  of  the  congrega- 
tion, from  time  to  time,  was  the  only  interruption  sanctioned,  but  among 
Orientals  it  would  have  been  hopeless  to  enforce  silence.  Ever  and  anon 
a  hearer  volunteered  assistance  if  the  speaker  hesitated,  or  corrected  a 
mistake  if  he  supposed  one  made,  and  the  whole  congregation,  at  times, 
signified  aloud  their  agreement,  shouted  a  contradiction,  or  even  ordered 
the  speaker  to  be  silent. 

When  to  the  many  prayers  of  the  synagogue  service  we  add  those  re- 
quired in  private  life,  the  "  vain  repetitions"  against  which  Christ  cautioned 
His  hearers  on  the  Mount  may  bo  understood.  Besides  the  five  daily 
repetitions  of  the  Sch'ma  and  the  Benedictions,  every  Jew  gave  thanks 
before  and  after  every  act  of  eating  or  drinking  ;  before,  and,  often,  after, 
each  of  the  countless  external  rites  and  exercises  required  of  him ;  and 
there  were,  besides,  sjoecial  prayers  for  new  moons,  new  years,  feasts,  half- 
feasts,  and  fasts,  and  many  for  special  incidents  of  private  or  family  life. 
Prayer,  always  prescribed  in  exact  words,  was  in  fact  multiplied  till  it  was 
in  danger  of  becoming  too  often  formal  and  mechanical — a  mere  outward 
act,  of  superstitious  importance  in  itself,  apart  from  the  spirit  in  which  it 
was  offered. 

Such  a  circle  of  synagogue  service,  constantly  repeated,  we  must  conceive 
the  child  Jesus  to  have  frequented  from  his  earliest  years,  day  by  day,  and 
week  by  week. 

The  influence  of  an  institution  in  wliich  the  Law  was  read,  throughout, 
every  year,  on  the  Sabbath,  and,  in  part,  twice  each  week,  with  extra  read- 
ings on  special  high  days ;  in  v/hich  the  Prophets  and  Psalms  were  con- 
stantly brought  before  the  congregation,  and  in  which  multiplied  prayers, 
always  the  same,  impressed  on  the  mind  every  emotion  and  thought  of  the 
national  religion,  in  language  often  grand  and  solemn  in  the  extreme, 
must  have  been  great.  The  synagogue  was,  in  fact,  the  seed-bed  of  Jud- 
aism :  its  inspiring  soul  and  its  abiding  nurture.  It  was  in  it  that  Jesus, 
as  a  child,  was  first  drawn  into  love  and  sympathy  for  His  people,  and  that 
He  heard  the  rights,  duties,  and  prospects,  of  the  suffering  people  of  God, 
and  drank  in  that  deep  knowledge  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  by  which, 
as  St.  Luke  tells  us,  "  He  kept  on  growing  in  wisdom."     The  lessons  He 


SOCIAL   INFLUENCEb;.  127 

learned  in  it  can  be  traced  througli  the  whole  Gospels.  The  adircs^es  He 
heard  were  no  doubt,  for  the  most  part,  lifeless  Rabbinical  refinements, 
with  a  Pharisaic  colouring,  which  His  pure  and  sinless  soul,  filled  with  the 
love  of  His  heavenly  Father,  instinctively  prized  at  their  true  value.  His 
words  in  after  life  often  show  that  He  had  been  accustomed  to  see  Phari- 
sees and  Scribes  in  the  synagogue,  who  made  the  Mondays  and  Thursdays, 
on  which,  service  was  held,  their  days  of  fasting ;  who  paraded  a  show  of 
long  prcayers  or  of  liberal  alms;  and  eagei'ly  pressed  forward  to  the  front 
seats,  where  they  would  be  most  in  honour,  and  would  be  most  likely  to  be 
called  up  to  speak.  As  He  grew  older  He  would  meet,  in  turn,  in  the 
synagogue,  every  shade  of  the  religion  of  the  day, — the  strictness  of  the 
school  of  Shamiuai,  and  the  mildness  of  that  of  Hillel ;  Jewish  bigotry,  and 
Galilasan  freedom  and  tolerance ;  the  latitndinarianism  of  the  Sadducee,  or 
the  puritanical  strictness  of  the  Essene.  The  great  doctrines  of  ceremonial 
purity,  01  the  righteousness  of  works,  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  of  the 
coming  redemption  of  Israel,  would  sound  in  His  ears  Sabbath  by  Sabbath, 
giving  Him  much  to  retain  and  still  more  to  i-eject.  In  the  synagogue  He 
came  in  contact  with  the  religious  life  of  His  race,  in  its  manifold  aspects. 
We  see,  in  His  public  life,  how  the  crowds  that  gathered  round  Him,  as  the 
new  Rabbi  of  Israel,  entered  into  conversation  with  Him  on  the  subjects 
of  His  discourse,  or  commented  on  them  afterwards,  and  He  had,  no  doubt, 
done  much  the  same  with  the  teachers  He  heard  in  His  earlier  years. 
The  Rabbis  whom  He  met  in  the  synagogues,  in  the  markets,  or  at  meals, 
were  accustomed  to  exchange  question  and  answer  with  all,  and  must 
often  have  had  to  reply  to  His  searching  questions,  and  deep  ijisight  into 
Scripture.  ISTor  would  the  longing  of  the  people  at  large,  for  the  ven- 
geance of  God  on  the  oppressors  of  the  nation,  escape  His  notice.  As  a 
man  in  all  things  like  other  men,  except  in  His  siolessness — the  syna- 
gogue with  its  services,  and  the  free  expression  of  thought,  both  in  public 
and  private,  which  it  favoured,  must  have  been  one  of  the  chief  agencies  in 
developing  His  human  nature. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SOCIAL   INFLTJENCES. 


AMONG  the  influences  amidst  v/hich  the  child  Jesus  grew  up  at 
ISTazaretli,  the  Synagogue,  with  its  constantly  recurring  services, 
was,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  most  important.  It  was  a  characteristic  of 
Jewish  life,  however,  that  its  religion  was  interwoven  with  the  whole 
tissue  of  daily  events,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

The  Jewish  ecclesiastical  calendar,  with  its  cycle  of  feasts,  half-feasts, 
and  fasts,  must  have  had  a  great  effect  in  colouring  the  general  mind,  and 
perpetuating  the  system  and  sentiments  which  they  illustrated.  There 
were  four  different  reckonings  of  the  Hebrew  year — that  which  commenced 
with  the  first  day  of  Kisan,  and  was  known  as  "  the  year  of  kings  and 
feasts ; "  a  second,  which  dated  from  the  first  of  Elul— that  is,  from  the 


128  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

full  moon  of  August — from  wliicli  the  yeai'  was  calculated  for  the  tithing 
of  cattle  ;  a  third,  from  the  first  day  of  Tisri— that  is,  from  the  new  moon 
of  September — from  which  the  years  from  the  creation  of  the  world  were 
reckoned  ;  and  a  fourth,  from  the  first  day  of  the  eleventh  month,  Schehet 
— from  which  the  age  of  trees  was  counted,  for  the  payment  of  tithes,  and 
for  noting  the  time  when  it  became  lawful  to  eat  the  fruit. 

The  stir  made  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  new  moon  would  be  a 
great  event  each  month,  even  in  a  retired  place  like  Nazareth.  Jesus 
would  hear  how,  on  the  last  day  of  each  month,  men  were  jDOsted  on  all 
the  heights  round  Jerusalem  to  watch  for  it ;  how  they  hastened,  at  the 
utmost  speed,  to  the  Temple,  with  the  news,  even  if  it  were  Sabbath,  and 
how  the  sacred  trumpet  sounded  to  announce  it,  and  special  sacrifices  were 
offered.  The  appearance  of  the  new  moon  had  in  all  ages  been  a  great  day 
in  Israel,  as  it  also  was  among  the  Greeks  and  Eomans.  The  Eabbis  af- 
firmed that  God  Himself  had  spoken  of  it  to  Moses,  and  told  him  how  to 
observe  it.  All  over  the  land  it  was  celebrated,  monthly,  by  special  reli- 
gious solemnities,  and  by  universal  rejoicing;  in  some  months  more  than 
in  others ;  every  one  in  Jerusalem,  who  could,  repairing  to  the  Temple, 
and  all,  elsewhere,  making  it  a  point  to  attend  the  synagogue  on  that  day. 
In  the  fondly  remembered  times  of  the  jiast,  the  day  of  the  new  moon  had 
been  that  on  which,  especially,  the  people  flocked  to  the  prophets  to  re- 
ceive instruction,  and  on  which  their  ancestors,  at  some  periods,  had  been 
wont  to  worship,  from  their  roofs,  the  returning  light,  as  that  of  the  Queen 
of  Heaven. 

Many  things  would  impress  this  event  on  the  Nazareth  children.  They 
doubtless  noticed  how  all  the  men  of  the  village  watched  fi'om  their  doors, 
each  month,  for  the  new  light,  and  they  had  often  heard  their  fathei's,  with 
covered  heads,  repeat  the  prayer  still  used  by  every  pious  Jew  at  first  see- 
ing it—"  Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord,  our  God  !  who,  through  Thy  Word,  didst 
create  the  heavens,  and  their  whole  host,  by  the  breath  of  Thy  mouth. 
He  appointed  them  a  law  and  time  that  they  should  not  go  back  from  their 
places.  Joyfully  and  gladly  they  fulfil  the  will  of  their  Creator,  whose 
working  and  whose  works  are  truth.  He  spoke  to  the  moon,  and  com- 
manded her  that  she  should  renew  herself  in  glory  and  splendour,  for 
those  whom  He  has  carried  from  their  mother's  breast,  for  thej',  too,  will 
be  one  day  renewed  like  her,  and  glorify  their  Creator  after  the  honour  of 
His  kingdom.  Blessed  be  Thou,  0  Lord,  who  renewest  the  moons."  Nor 
would  the  simple  household  feast  that  followed  be  unnoticed,  with  its  in- 
vited guests,  nor  the  Sabbath  rest  of  all  from  their  daily  work,  for  it  must 
have  been  a  welcome  monthly  holiday  to  the  school  children  of  Nazareth. 

The  great  festival  of  the  Hebrew  year — the  Passover  and  the  feast  of 
Unleavened  Bread — began  on  the  ISth  day  of  Nisan,  the  first  month,  and 
lasted  till  the  22nd.  It  was  one  of  the  three  yearly  feasts  which  every 
Israelite,  if  he  could,  attended  in  Jerusalem.  Like  circumcision,  which, 
indeed,  was  hardly  thought  so  sacred,  its  due  observance  was  esteemed  a 
vital  necessity,  on  no  account  to  be  neglected  in  any  year.  It  was  the 
annual  sacrament  of  the  whole  Jewish  race.  The  Passover  lamb  was  the 
one  offering  which  all  presented  spontaneously.     It  not  only  commemo- 


SOCIAL   INFLDENCES.  129 

rated  a  national  deliverance — the  "  passing  over  "  of  Israel  by  the  destroy- 
ing angel,  but  was  believed  to  secure  the  same  mercy  for  themselves 
hereafter.  Every  one  regarded  it  as  a  debt  ho  owed,  and  must  by  all 
means  pay,  if  he  would  be  counted  worthy  of  a  part  in  the  congregation  of 
Israel.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  household  sacrifice,  Avhicli  each  family  offered  on 
its  own  behalf,  that  its  transgressions  through  the  year  might  be  "  passed 
over."  Even  till  the  later  ages  of  Jewish  history  the  father  of  each  house- 
hold himself  killed  the  male  lamb  or  goat  required,  and  sprinkled  the 
blood  on  the  lintel  and  doorposts,  as  an  expiation  for  the  family  as  a  whole, 
and  for  any  who  might  have  joined  them  in  keeping  the  feast. 

Pious  Israelites  were  careful  to  accustom  their  children,  from  the  ear- 
liest years,  to  the  requirements  of  their  religion,  and  hence  often  brought 
them  with  them  to  Jerusalem  at  the  great  feasts.  Indeed,  even  the  liberal 
school  of  Hillel  made  it  binding  to  do  so  as  soon  as  a  child  was  able, 
with  the  help  of  its  father's  hand,  to  climb  the  flight  of  steps  into  the 
Temple  courts. 

The  Passover  itself  was  eaten  only  by  males,  but  the  week  of  the  feast 
was  a  time  of  universal  rejoicing,  so  that  husbands  were  wont  to  take  their 
wives,  as  well  as  their  sons,  with  them. 

Joseph  and  Mary  went  to  Jerusalem,  every  year,  to  this  Festivity,  and 
took  Jesus  with  them,  for  the  first  time,  when  He  was  twelve  years  old. 
Like  His  cousin  John,  He  had  grown  in  mind  and  body,  and  showed  a 
sweet  religious  spirit.  The  journey  must  have  been  the  revelation  of  a 
new  world  to  Him — a  world,  beyond  the  hills  of  Samaria,  which  had 
hitherto  seemed  the  limit  of  the  earth,  as  He  looked  away  to  them  from 
the  hill-top  behind  ITazareth. 

Only  a  Jew  could  realize  the  feelings  such  a  visit  must  have  raised  even 
in  a  child.  Jerusalem,  to  the  Israelite,  was  more,  if  possible,  than  Mecca 
is  to  the  Mahometan.  The  whole  "  land  of  Israel "  was  "  holy,"  since  it, 
only,  could  offer  to  God  the  first-fruits,  or  the  firstborn,  or  the  "perpetual" 
shewbread.  Its  walled  towns  were  still  "  holier."  No  leper  was  allowed 
in  them,  and  a  corpse  carried  out  to  burial  could  not  be  brought  into  a 
town  again.  But  Jerusalem,  the  sacred  city,  the  seat  of  the  Temple,  had  a 
sanctity  all  its  own.  By  Eabbinical  laws,  which,  however,  were,  doubtless, 
often  neglected,  even  holy  offerings,  of  the  lower  kinds,  and  second  tithes, 
might  be  eaten  in  it.  The  dead  must  be  carried  out  before  sunset  of  the 
day  of  death.  'No  houses  could  be  let  for  lodgings ;  and  no  sepulchres, 
except  those  of  the  house  of  David,  and  of  Huldah,  the  prophetess,  had 
been  tolerated.  ISTo  impurity  was  suliered,  lest  creeping  things  should 
defile  the  holy  city ;  nor  could  scaffolds  be  set  up  against  the  walls,  for  a 
similar  fear  of  defilement.  Smoke  from  household  fires  was  forbidden ; 
poultry  were  unlawful,  becavise  they  scratched  up  the  soil,  and  might  de- 
file passing  offerings  ;  no  leper  could  enter  the  gates  ;  gardens  were  pro- 
hibited, because  the  decaying  leaves  and  the  manure  would  make  an 
offensive  smell.  Superstition  had  invented  the  most  amazing  fancies,  as 
jjroofs  of  the  passing  holiness  of  the  city  in  its  whole  extent,  and  these 
were,  doubtless,  universally  and  implicitly  believed.  It  was  maintained 
that  no  serpent  or  scorpion  ever  harmed  any  one  in  Jerusalem ;  that  no  fly 

K 


130  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

was  ever  seen  in  tlie  place  for  slaughtering  the  sacrifices ;  that  no  rain 
ever  put  out  the  fire  of  the  altar,  and  that  no  wind  ever  blew  aside  the 
pillar  of  smoke  over  the  altar.  But  the  hospitality  of  the  holy  city  was 
less  open  to  question ;  for  it  was  a  common  boast  that  no  one  had  ever 
failed  to  find  friendly  entertainment,  or  a  hearth  on  which  to  roast  his 
passover.  However  churlish  to  all  besides,  the  hospitality  of  the  citizens 
to  their  own  nation  was  unbounded. 

But  if  the  city  were  holy,  it.was  mainly  so  because  of  the  far  greater 
holiness  of  the  sanctuary  within  its  bounds.  The  Temple  mountain  held 
the  fourth  place  in  local  holiness.  The  ceremonially  unclean  could  not 
enter  it.  The  space  between  the  court  of  the  heathen  and  the  inner  courts 
— the  Zwinger,  or  Chel — ranked  next ;  none  but  Israelites  could  enter  it, 
and  not  even  they,  if  defiled  by  a  dead  body.  The  women's  court  came 
next.  No  unclean  person,  even  after  batliing,  could  enter  it  till  sunset. 
The  Forecourt  of  the  Israelites  was  still  holier.  JSTo  one  coiild  go  into  it 
who  needed  expiation  to  be  made  for  him.  Even  the  clean  must  bathe  be- 
fore entering,  and  any  unclean  person  intruding,  through  oversight,  must 
atone  for  his  error  by  a  trespass-offering.  The  Forecourt  of  the  Priests 
was  yet  more  sacred.  None  but  the  priests  or  Levites  could  cross  its 
threshold,  except  on  special  occasions,  specified  by  the  Law.  The  space 
between  the  altar  and  the  Temple  had  a  still  greater  sanctity,  for,  into  it, 
no  priest  with  any  bodily  defect,  or  with  his  hair  in  disorder,  or  with  a 
torn  robe,  or  who  had  tasted  wine,  could  enter.  The  Temple  itself  stood 
apart,  in  the  tenth  and  highest  degree  of  sanctity.  Before  entering  it, 
every  priest  had  to  wash  both  hands  and  feet.  In  this  revered  centre, 
however,  there  was  one  spot  more  awful  than  all  the  rest — the  Holy  of 
Holies,  which  the  high  priest  alone  could  enter,  and  he  only  once  a  year, 
on  the  great  Day  of  Atonement,  in  the  peformance  of  the  rites  of  the  day, 
which  required  his  entering  it  four  times. 

Such  a  country  and  city  could  not  fail  to  be  the  objects  of  abiding  and 
passionate  sentiment.  Affection  for  their  native  land  led  to  the  unique 
historical  phenomenon  of  the  return  of  the  exiles  froin  Babylon.  Many 
psalms  of  the  period  still  record  how  the  captives  wept  by  the  rivers  of 
Babylon  when  they  remembered  Zion,  and  hung  their  harps  on  the 
willows  of  their  banks ;  and  the  same  intense  longing  for  Palestine  is 
illustrated  even  yet,  by  the  fond  fancy  of  the  Targum  that  the  bodies  of  the 
righteous  Jews  who  die  in  foreign  lands,  make  their  way,  under  gromid, 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  to  share  in  the  resurrection  of  the  just,  of  which 
it  is  to  be  the  scene.  The  wailing  of  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem  over  their 
ruined  Temple,  as  they  lean  against  the  few  stones  of  it  which  yet  remain, 
shows  the  same  feeling,  and  it  is  shared  by  all  the  race  so  strongly,  that 
some  earth  from  the  land  of  their  fathers  is  sprinkled  on  the  grave  of 
every  Jew  that  dies  away  from  it,  to  make  him  rest  in  peace. 

Love  of  their  mother-land,  however,  was  not  especially  that  which 
linked  the  Jews  of  all  countries  in  Christ's  day  into  a  great  brotherhood, 
and  attracted  them  continually  to  Jerusalem,  for  they  were  voluntarily 
settled,  far  and  wide,  in  foreign  lands.  Nor  was  it  their  longing  for 
freedom  and  independence,  for  they  were  contented  subjects  of  all  forms 


SOCIAL   INFLUENCES.  131 

of  government.  Their  eyes  were  everywliere  turned  to  the  Temple,  and 
they  found  in  it  the  centre  of  their  national  unity.  Their  heavenly  and 
earthly  fatherland  seemed  to  meet  in  its  sacred  enclosure.  From  all  the 
earth,  -wherever  a  Jew  lived,  rose  the  same  cry  as  that  of  the  exiles  at  the 
sources  of  the  Jordan:  "As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water-brooks, 
so  panteth  my  soul  after  Thee,  O  God.  My  soul  thirsteth  for  God, 
for  the  living  God:  when  shall  I  come  and  appear  before  God?  I  pour 
out  my  soul  in  me  when  I  remember  these  things — how  I  Avent  with  the 
pilgrim  bands,  and  marched  up  with  them  to  the  house  of  God,  with  the 
voice  of  joy  and  praise  ;  with  the  festive  crowd  !  "  To  the  Jews  of  every 
land  it  was  the  crown  and  glory  of  their  religious  system.  In  their 
scattered  synagogues  and  houses  of  prayer  they  looked  towards  it  at 
every  service.  Their  gifts  and  offerings  flowed  to  it  in  a  golden  stream, 
partly  to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  the  Law,  but  even  more  to  gratify 
their  religious  devotion.  Every  Jew  over  twenty  throughout  the  world 
gave  his  didrachma  yearly — in  payment  of  the  first-fruits  required  by  the 
Law — to  maintain  the  Temple  and  its  saci'ifices.  Constant  voluntary 
gifts,  besides,— often  of  great  value— streamed  into  the  holy  treasury. 
Tithes,  also,  were  claimed  by  the  Kabbis  from  all  Jews  abroad  as  well  as 
at  home,  and  were  doubtless  given  by  the  devout.  "  In  almost  every 
town,"  says  Philo,  "  there  is  a  chest  for  the  sacred  money,  and  into  this 
the  dues  are  put.  At  fixed  times  it  is  entrusted  to  the  foremost  men  to 
carry  it  to  Jerusalem.  The  noblest  are  chosen  from  every  town  to  take  up 
the  Hope  of  all  Jews,  untouched,  for  on  this  payment  of  legal  dues  rests 
the  hope  of  the  devout."  Egypt,  though  it  had  a  Temple  of  its  own  at 
Leontopolis,  sent  this  yearly  tribute  regularly ;  it  came  constantly  from 
Rome  and  all  the  "West ;  from  Lesser  Asia  and  all  Syria.  But  it  flowed 
in  the  richest  stream  from  Babylonia  and  the  countries  beyond  the 
Euphrates,  from  which  it  was  brought  up  under  the  protection  of 
thousands,  who  volunteered  to  escort  it  to  Jerusalem,  and  protect  it  from 
plunder  by  the  Parthians  on  the  way. 

Thus  Jerusalem  and  the  Temple  were  the  grand  religious  centre  of  all 
Israel,  to  the  remotest  limits  of  its  wanderings.  The  Sanctuary  lived  in 
every  heart.  To  maintain  it  inviolate  was  the  one  common  anxiety. 
Foreign  rulers  might  hold  sway  over  Palestine,  and  even  over  Jerusalem, 
and  so  long  as  the  Temple  was  left  untouched,  submission  was  paid  them, 
as  the  will  of  fate.  If,  however,  the  haughtiness  or  greed  of  the  enemy 
violated,  or  even  only  threatened,  the  Sanctuary,  there  ran  through  the 
whole  Jewish  world  a  feeling  of  indignation  that  roused  them  at  once,  and 
at  the  cry  that  the  Temple  was  in  danger,  weapons  were  grasped  and 
solemn  prayers  rose,  and  one  deep  resolve  pervaded  all— to  shed  the  last 
drop  of  their  blood  on  the  battle-field  or  at  the  Altar,  for  Jerusalem  and 
the  Sanctuary. 

It  must  have  been  a  wonderful  sight  to  the  child  Jesus  to  visit  the  Holy 
City  at  the  season  of  the  Passover.  The  multitudes  who  flocked  to  tlie 
feast  from  all  countries  were  countless.  "  Many  thousands,"  says  Philo, 
"  from  many  thousand  towns  and  cities,  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Temple 
at   every  feast ;    some   by  land,   others   by   sea,  from   the   east  and  the 


132  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

west,  the  north  and  the  south.  Even  at  Pentecost,  which  attracted  a 
much  smaller  number,  vast  crowds  of  Jews  and  pi^oselytes  were  present 
from  every  part  of  the  Eoman  empire,  which  was  nearly  equivalent  to  the 
then  known  world.  Josephus  reckoned  the  numbers  attending  a  single 
Passover  at  2,700,000,  inclusive  of  the  population  of  the  city.  Every  house 
in  the  narrow  limits  of  Jerusalem  was  crowded  with  pilgrims,  and  the 
whole  landscape  round  covered  with  the  tents  or  booths,  of  mat,  and 
wicker  work,  and  interwoven  leaves,  extemporized  to  serve  as  shelter — 
like  the  similar  structures  of  the  Easter  pilgrims  still— for  those  who 
could  not  be  accommodated  in  any  house.  The  routes  by  which  they 
travelled  to  the  Holy  City  from  all  lands  must  have  been  like  those  to 
Mecca,  at  certain  seasons,  even  now  :  countless  vessels  laden  with  living 
freights  of  pilgrims  :  all  the  main  lines  of  road  thronged  with  huge  cara- 
vans :  every  port  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  every  city  and  town  on  the 
highways  leading  to  the  great  centre,  thronged  as  with  the  passage  of 
armies.  The  vast  "  dispersion  "—Jewish  l)y  birth,  sentiment,  or  adoption 
— converged  more  and  more  densely  on  the  one  point, — Jerusalem.  Par- 
thians,  Medes,  Elamites,  and  Mesopotamians,  in  the  costume  of  the  far 
East,  with  their  long  trains  of  camels  and  mules  ;  crowds  from  every 
province  of  Lesser  Asia — Cajjpadocia,  Pontus,  Phrygia,  and  Pamphylia, 
each  band  with  the  distinctive  characteristics  of  its  own  district ;  swarthy 
multitudes,  in  long  caravans,  or  afoot, — after  a  sea  voyage  to  Joppa  or 
Caesarea — from  Egypt,  the  head-quarters  of  the  foreign  Jews,  and  from 
Libya  and  Cyi'ene ;  pilgrims  even  from  imperial  Rome ;  men  from  the 
slopes  of  Cretan  Ida,  and  from  the  far-ofE  cities  and  towns  of  sandy 
Arabia,  met  under  the  shadow  of  the  Temple.  The  whole  world,  in  a 
sense,  was  gathered  to  one  spot,  and  this,  itself,  to  a  mind  such  as  that  of 
the  boy  Jesus,  must  have  been  rich  in  the  most  varied  influence  and 
knowledge. 

The  appearance  of  the  city  would  make  an  impression  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. If  there  were  no  gardens  in  Jerusalem,  there  was  a  girdle  of 
them  reaching  from  its  very  walls,  down  the  valleys,  and  up  the  opi:)osite 
hill-sides  ;  one  of  them  so  famous  that  the  figs  from  it  were  sold  for  three 
or  four  assarii  each.  The  garden  walls  and  ditches  netted  over  all  the 
approaches  to  the  city,  on  each  side.  On  the  hills  around  rose  the  man- 
sions of  the  rich  citizens,  and  at  the  bend  where  the  valleys  of  Kidron 
and  Hinnom  met,  beside  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  the  eye  regaled  itself  with 
the  wide  and  rich  verdure  of  the  royal  gardens. 

As  Joseph,  and  Mary  with  her  Son,  came  in  sight  of  the  city  from  the 
north,  they  would  be  on  ground  as  high  as  Mount  Zion  :  and  rising,  to 
the  north-west  of  the  city,  even  a  few  feet  higher,  while  on  the  west,  Zion 
rose,  on  an  average,  about  100  feet  above  the  hills  across  the  Valley  of 
Hinnom ;  and,  on  the  east,  the  Mount  of  Olives  overtopped  the  highest 
part  of  the  city  by  100  feet,  and  the  Temple  hill  by  no  less  than  300. 
Except  on  the  north,  however,  the  high  ground  was  divided  from  Jeru- 
salem by  deep  valleys,  which  could  be  reached  from  within  the  city  only 
by  steep  streets  and  roads.  The  pilgrims  encam]5cd  in  the  valleys  of 
Kidron  or  Hinnom  saw  the  buildings  and  towers  of  Mount  Zion  more  than 


SOCIAL   INFLUENCES.  133 

500  feet  above  thom  ;  and  those  whose  tents  were  pitched  not  far  from  the 
same  place,  at  Joab's  Well,  were  nearly  600  feet  below  the  houses  of  the 
upper  city.  The  Court  of  the  Priests  looked  over  to  the  Pool  of  Siloam, 
370  feet  below ;  and  from  Mount  Zion  it  needed  a  descent  of  264  feet  to 
reach  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Kidron. 

Jerusalem  was  thus,  pre-eminentlj',  a  mountain  city,  surroiinded  on  all 
sides  by  hills,  and  with  hills,  famous  and  sacred  beyond  all  others,  as  its 
own  site.  Tlie  road  from  Nazareth  entered  the  new  lower  town,  by  the 
Damascus  gate,  and  passed  through  the  most  stirring  business  street — in 
the  bottom  of  the  Valley  of  the  Cheesemakers,  or  the  Tyropoeon :  a  deep 
and  narrow  hollow  between  Mounts  Zion  and  Moriah  ;  then  crowded  with 
the  narrow  lanes  which  serve  for  streets  in  Eastern  cities.  In  the  new 
town,  under  the  shadow  of  the  i^o  hills,  were  the  shops  of  the  braziers  ; 
the  clothes'  bazaar,  and  the  square  where  the  authorities  received  an- 
nouncements of  the  new  moon,  and  gave  the  public  feasts  that  followed, 
monthly.  In  the  Tyropoeon,  the  streets  ran  in  terraces,  up  the  steep  sides 
of  the  hill,  side  lanes  climljing  here  and  there,  to  the  top,  past  the  bazaar 
of  the  butchers,  and  that  of  the  wool-dealers,  to  the  upper  street,  where 
Tsmael  Ben  Camithi,  the  high  priest  at  the  time,  having  gone  out  on  the 
great  Day  of  Atonement,  to  speak  with  a  heathen,  a  fleck  of  spittle  fell  on 
his  clothes,  from  the  lips  of  the  uncircumcised,  and  defiled  him,  so  that  he 
could  not  perform  the  services  of  the  day,  and  had  to  get  his  brother  to 
take  his  place. 

On  the  west  of  the  Tyi'opoeon,  on  the  top  of  Mount  Zion,  rose  the  old, 
or  upper  city,  known  also  as  the  City  of  David.  In  it  were  the  shops  of 
the  goldsmiths,  and  the  houses  of  the  priests  who  lived  in  Jerusalem. 
The  Wall  of  David  ran  along  its  north  side,  opening  through  the  gate 
Gennath,  to  Akra,  or  the  lower  town.  High  above  this  wall,  which  was 
over  fifty  feet  in  height,  rose  the  three  famous  castles — Hijipikus, 
Phasaelus,  and  Mariamne — built  by  Herod  the  Great,  and  then  fresh  from 
the  builder's  hands.  Of  these,  Hippikus,  stern  and  massive,  towered  120 
feet  above  the  wall,  at  its  north-west  corner ;  a  great  square  of  huge 
stones,  in  successive  stories,  the  upper  one  surmounted  by  battlements 
and  turrets.  Close  by,  and  in  a  line  with  it,  rose  Phasaelus,  the  splendid 
memorial  to  Herod's  brother  Phasael,  who  had  beaten  out  his  brains 
against  the  walls  of  his  dungeon  when  a  prisoner  of  the  Parthians.  It, 
also,  was  square,  for  sixty  feet  of  its  height  above  the  wall,  but  from 
amidst  the  breastworks  and  bulwarks  of  this  lower  fortress,  rose  a  second 
tower,  about  seventy  feet  higher,  with  magnificent  battlements  and  turrets. 
Within,  this  upper  tower  was  like  a  palace,  and  it  was,  doubtless,  in- 
tended as  a  refuge  for  the  king,  in  case  of  necessity.  Mariamne,  the 
smallest  of  the  three  castles,  was  about  thirty  feet  square,  and  about 
seventy-five  in  height,  but  its  upper  half  was  more  highly  finished  than 
that  of  either  of  the  others,  as  if  to  quiet  its  builder's  conscience  for  the 
murder  of  her  whose  name  it  Ijore.  All  three  fortresses,  towering  thus 
grandly  aloft,  above  the  high  wall, — which  itself  rose  along  the  crest  of  a 
high  hill, — were  of  white  marble  :  each  stone  thirty  feet  long,  fifteen  in 
breadth,  and  from  seven  to  eisht  in  thickness  ;  and  all  squared  so  exactly 


134  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

that  their  joiuiugs  could  hardly  be  seen.  "  Each  tower,"  to  use  the  words 
of  Josephus,  "  looked  like  a  great  natural  rock  which  had  been  cut  by  the 
workman  into  shajoe,  like  the  rock-hewn  buildings  of  Edom." 

Under  the  protection  of  these  splendid  structures  rose  the  new  palace  of 
Herod,  about  the  centre  of  the  northern  half  of  Mount  Zion,  a  great  jiart 
of  which  was  enclosed  within  its  park  walls,  themselves  a  second  line  of 
defence,  forty-five  feet  in  height,  with  strong  towers  rising,  at  equal  dis- 
tances, from  their  broad  tops.  The  palace  itself  was  indescribably 
magnificent.  Sjjacious  rooms,  with  elabora^tely  carved  walls  and  ceilings, 
many  of  them  crusted  with  precious  stones,  displayed  Oriental  splendour 
to  hundreds  of  guests  at  a  time.  Gold  and  silver  shone  on  every  side. 
Round  this  sumptuous  abode,  porticoes  with  curious  pillars  of  costly 
stone,  offered  wide,  shady  retreats.  Grqres  and  gardens  stretched  around, 
intermingled  with  pools  and  artificial  rivers,  bordered  by  long,  delightful 
walks,  frequented,  through  the  day,  by  all  who  could  endure  the  desecration 
of  Jerusalem  by  the  countless  statues  which  adorned  them. 

The  theatre  built  by  Herod,  to  the  horror  of  the  nation,  was  also,  aip- 
parently,  in  this  part  of  the  city ;  and  outside,  at  a  little  distance,  was  the 
amphitheatre,  an  object  of  still  greater  popular  aversion,  from  its  gladia- 
torial shows,  in  which  men  condemned  to  death  fought  with  wild  beasts. 
Inscrijitions  in  honour  of  Augustus,  and  trophies  of  the  nations  Herod 
had  conquered  in  his  wars,  adorned  the  exterior  of  the  theatre ;  and  the 
games  in  the  circus,  though  shunned  by  the  Jews,  were  celebrated  with 
the  greatest  pomp,  strangers  from  all  the  neighbouring  countries  being 
invited  to  them.  The  trophies  round  the  theatre  especially  excited  in- 
dignation, being  supposed  to  cover  images,  and  hence  being  looked  upon 
as  heathen  idols.  So  great,  indeed,  had  the  excitement  become,  in  Herod's 
lifetime,  that,  for  polic}^,  he  had  caused  the  armour  to  be  taken  from  some 
of  them,  in  j^resence  of  the  leading  men,  to  show  that  there  was  nothing 
but  shapeless  wood  beneath.  Yet  even  this  did  not  calm  the  people,  and 
no  Jew  passed  the  hated  building  without  the  bitterest  feelings  at  its 
presence  in  the  holy  city. 

On  the  eastern  crest  of  Zion  stood  the  old  palace  of  the  Asmonean  kings, 
and,  north  of  it,  an  open  space  surroxinded  by  a  lofty  covered  colonnade, 
known  as  the  Xystus.  A  bridge  spanned  the  Tyropoeon  Yalley  to  the 
south-west  corner  of  the  Temple  enclosure,  and  near  the  Xystus  rose  a 
hall,  known  as  the.  Hall  of  the  King's  Council.  The  main  streets  ran  north 
and  south— some  along  the  brow  of  the  hill,  others  lower  down,  but 
parallel,  following  the  course  of  the  valley,  with  side  lanes  or  narrow 
streets  connecting  them.  They  had  raised  pavements,  either  because  of 
the  slope  of  the  ground,  or  to  allow  passers-by  to  avoid  contact  with  per- 
son or  things  ceremonially  unclean.  The  upper  city  was  mainly  devoted 
to  dwelling-houses  of  the  Ijetter  kind ;  but  in  the  lower  city,  bazaars,  or 
street-like  markets  were  then,  as  now,  a  prominent  feature,  each  devoted 
to  a  siiecial  branch  of  commerce. 

Looking  out  at  the  Gennath  gate  on  the  north  of  Zion,  the  Almond  pool, 
near  at  hand,  refreshed  the  eye.  Beyond  it,  across  a  little  valley,  slightly 
to  the  north-Avest,  near  the  Joppa  road,  was  Psephinos,  another  of  the 


SOCIAL   INFLUENCES.  135 

castles  by  wliich  the  city  was  at  once  defended  and  overawed.  It  rose  iu 
an  octagcni,  high  into  the  clear  blue,  showing  from  its  battlements  tho 
whole  sn^eep  of  the  country,  from  the  sea-coast  to  beyond  the  Dead  Sea, 
and  from  the  far  north,  away  towards  Edom,  on  the  south.  In  Christ's 
day  it  stood  outside  the  city,  by  itself,  but  soon  after  His  death  it  was  in- 
cluded in  the  line  of  wall  built  by  Herod  Agrippa. 

The  northern  part  of  the  lower  town,  known  as  Akra,  was  mainly  in- 
teresting for  the  bustle  of  restless  city  life  of  every  colour  which  it  pre- 
sented. The  wood  bazaar,  the  city  council-house,  and  public  records  office, 
were  in  it.  Nor  was  it  destitute  of  attractions,  for  the  double  pool  of 
Bethesda  lay  at  its  north-east  corner.  The  Temple  and  its  courts  occupied 
nearly  the  whole  of  Mount  Moriah,  the  second  hill  on  which  the  city  was 
built,  the  only  other  building  on  it  contrasting  strangely  in  appearance 
and  character.  It  was  the  great  fortress  Antonia,  at  the  north-west 
corner,  on  an  isolated  rock,  separated  by  a  cleft  from  Mount  Moriah,  and 
cased  with  stone  where  exposed,  so  that  no  foe  could  scale  it.  The  castle 
occupied,  with  its  enclosures,  nearly  a  third  of  the  great  Temple  plateau, 
and  was  built  originally  by  John  Hyrcanus,  but  had  been  rebuilt  by  Herod 
with  great  magnificence,  with  baths,  fountains,  galleries,  piazza,  and  great 
rooms,  to  fit  it  for  a  residence  for  princely  guests.  It  served  now  as  the 
cjuarters  of  the  Roman  garrison,  sent  from  Cffisarea  at  the  time  of  the 
great  feasts,  to  keep  peace  in  the  city.  In  Christ's  day  the  robes  of  the 
high  priest  were  kept  in  it  by  the  Eomans,  to  prevent  a  seditious  use  of 
them.  Covered  ways  led  from  the  castla  to  the  Temple  area,  to  allow  the 
soldiery  free  access  in  case  of  tumult  or  disturbance. 

Such  was  the  city  to  which  Jesus  now  came  for  the  first  time.  As  He 
was  led  through  its  crowded  streets,  and  saw  its  famous  palaces,  and 
towers,  and  marts,  and  above  all,  the  Temple,  what  strange  thoughts  must 
have  risen  in  the  opening  mind  of  the  wondrous  boy. 

The  panorama  spread  before  Him  from  the  city,  at  its  different  points, 
was  no  less  filled  with  interest.  From  the  Temple  He  looked  eastward  to 
Mount  Olivet,  then  crowned  by  two  great  cedars,  ixnderneath  which  were 
booths  for  the  sale  of  all  things  needed  for  ceremonial  purifications,  in- 
cluding the  doves  for  the  various  offerings.  He  would  no  doubt  hear  how, 
in  former  times,  beacon  fires  had  been  kindled  on  the  hill-top  at  each  new 
moon,  and  how  mountain  after  mountain,  catching  the  sight,  spread  the 
news  in  an  hour  over  the  whole  land.  Some  one  would,  doubtless,  also, 
tell  Him  that  it  was  the  hated  Samaritans  who  had  brought  the  custom 
to  an  end,  by  holding  up  lights  at  wrong  times,  and  thus  jnisleadmg 
Israel. 

The  Valley  of  the  Kidron,  below,  would  be  equally  interesting.  It  was 
to  it  the  pilgrims  came  down  at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  to  cut  the  long 
boughs  of  willow  which  they  carried  in  procession  to  the  Temple,  and  laid 
bending  over  the  altar.  On  the  eve  of  the  first  day  of  the  feast,  Jesus 
would  see  men  sent  Ijy  the  Temple  authorities — a  great  crowd  following — 
to  cut  the  sheaf  of  first-fruits.  Perhaps  He  saw  the  three  reapers,  with 
basket  and  sickle,  step  to  spots  previously  marked  out,  asking,  as  they 
stood  beside  the  new  barley,  "  Has  the  sun  set  yet  ?     Is   this  the  right 


136  THE    LIFE    OF    CIIIUST. 

sickle  ?  Is  this  the  right  basket  ?  "  and,  if  it  were  Sabbath,  "  Is  this  the 
Sabbatli  ?  " — to  bo  followed  by  another  question,  thrice  repeated,  "  Shall  I 
cut  P  "  Avhich  was  answered  with  what  seems,  now,  childish  formality,  but 
then  thrilled  all  hearts,  "  Cut."  Eeligious  bitterness  lay  behind  all  this 
minute  triviality,  for  did  not  the  hated  aristocratic  Sadducees  maintain 
that  the  first  sheaf  should  be  cut  only  on  the  first  week-day  of  the  feast, 
which  would  have  affected  the  date  of  Pentecost,  fifty  days  later  ?  The 
child  from  Nazareth  w^ould  follow,  when  the  sheaf,  thus  reaped,  was 
carried,  amidst  great  rejoicings,  to  the  forecourt  of  the  Temple,  and  pre- 
sented by  the  priest  as  a  heave-offering ;  then  threshed,  winnowed,  and 
cleansed,  dried  over  a  sacred  fire,  and  forthwith  ground  into  flour,  the 
finest  of  which  was  the  new-harvest  "  meat-offering  "  before  God.  He 
knew  that  till  this  had  been  presented  at  the  altar,  no  field  could  be  cut, 
except  to  get  fodder  for  cattle,  or  for  other  necessary  ends. 

Looking  into  the  Yalley  of  Hinnom  from  the  southern  end  of  the  Temple, 
with  its  magnificent  Eoyal  porch.  His  eyes  must  have  turned  from  the 
sight  one  spot  in  it  offered,  the  fires  kept  up,  night  and  day,  to  burn  all 
the  garbage  and  offal  of  the  Temple,  and  the  refuse  of  the  city— the 
symbol  of  the  unquenchable  flames  of  the  Pit.  It  was  in  this  valley  that 
children  had  been  burned  alive  to  Moloch  in  the  old  idolatrous  times,  and 
the  remembrance  of  this,  with  the  foulness  of  the  pai't  where  the  perpetual 
fires  now  burned,  had  made  Gehenna — the  name  of  the  valley — the  word 
used  afterwards  even  by  Jesus  Himself,  for  the  place  of  the  lost. 

Between  Hinnom  and  Kidron,  where  the  two  valleys  met  at  the  south- 
east of  the  city.  His  eyes,  looking  down  from  the  Temple  Mount,  would 
rest  on  the  contrasted  sweetness  of  the  softly-flowing  waters  of  Siloam, 
Avhich  bubbled  up  noiselessly  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  after  filling  a 
double  pool,  glided  on  to  the  south,  till  they  lost  themselves  in  the  king's 
gardens. 

City  and  people :  the  past  and  the  present,  must  have  filled  the  whole 
being  of  the  Child  with  awe  and  wonder,  for  He  now  stood,  for  the  first 
time,  under  the  shadow  of  His  Father's  Temple,  and  the  murmur  of 
countless  languages  that  filled  the  air,  was,  in  very  truth,  homage  to  that 
Father  from  all  the  world. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   PASSOVEB,  VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM. 

r  1 1  HE  vast  multitudes  coming  to  the  Passover  ai'ranged  to  reach  Jcru- 
-■-  salem,  at  the  latest,  on  the  14th  of  Nisan,  on  the  evening  of  which  the 
feast  was  celebrated.  In  the  city,  however,  there  had  been  a  great  stir  for 
some  days  already,  in  anticipation  of  the  solemnity.  So  far  back  as  from 
the  15th  of  the  preceding  month,  all  the  bridges  and  roads,  far  and  near, 
had  been  begun  to  be  repaired.  All  graves  near  the  lines  of  travel,  or 
round  Jerusalem,  had  been  cither  fenced  in,  or  the  head-stones  had  been 
whitewashed,  that  thoy  might  be  seen  from  a  distance,  and  thus  warn  off 


THE    PASSOVER    VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  137 

the  pilgrims,  Avbom  they  might  otherwise  have  defiled,  and  made  unfit  for 
the  feast.  The  fields,  throughout  the  whole  country,  had  been  anxiously 
gone  over,  to  see  if  they  w'erc  unclean  by  any  plants  growing  together  in 
them,  which  the  Law  forbade  in  more  than  one  text.  On  the  Sabbath 
immediately  preceding  the  14th — the  Great  Sabbath — special  services  had 
been  held  in  all  the  synagogues  and  in  the  Temple  itself,  and  the  Eabbis 
had  discoursed  to  the  people  on  the  laws  and  meaning  of  the  festival. 
The  lambs,  or  he  goats,  had  been  selected,  in  earlier  times,  on  the  10th, 
from  the  vast  flocks  driven  to  the  city  at  this  season  to  supply  the  Pass- 
over demand.  But  this  was  impossible  now,  as  the  pilgrims  arrived, 
mostly,  after  that  day.  Only  male  lambs,  or  he  goats,  of  a  year  old,  and 
without  blemish,  could  be  used,  and  they  were  selected  with  the  most 
scrupulous  care  by  the  head  of  each  company  of  relatives  or  neighbours, 
who  j^roposed  to  eat  the  feast  together. 

The  fourteenth  day,  which  began  at  sunset  of  the  loth,  was  also  the  first 
day  of  the  feast  of  '*  Unleavened  Bread,"  and  was  hence  known  as  the 
"  preparation  day."  No  particle  of  leaven  could  be  left  in  any  house.  The 
head  of  each  family,  as  the  evening  closed,  began  the  household  purifica- 
tion with  the  prayer — "Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  our  God,  King  of  the 
universe,  who  sanctified  us  with  Thy  commandments,  and  requirest  us  to 
remove  the  leaven,"  and  then  proceeded,  in  rigorous  silence,  to  search  every 
room,  gathering  every  crumb  that  could  be  found,  and  finally  tying  all  up 
till  the  following  morning.  A  further  search,  which  must  end  before  noon, 
was  then  made  for  any  liquid  or  solid  product  of  fermented  grain,  and  for 
all  dishes  or  vessels  that  had  held  it.  All  were  taken  out  of  the  house, 
and  the  crumbs  and  dough  carefully  burned,  Avith  a  repetition  of  pre- 
scribed prayers.  The  house  itself  was  then  cleansed  in  every  part,  and 
no  one  could  enter  the  unpurified  house  of  a  heathen,  henceforth,  during 
the  feast,  without  being  defiled.  Nothing  leavened  could  be  eaten  or  per- 
mitted in  the  house  during  the  next  seven  days, — for  defilement,  bringing 
with  it  unfitness  to  eat  the  Passover,  would  follow  in  either  case. 

This  purification  of  the  house,  however,  was  by  no  means  all.  Vessels  of 
any  kind,  to  be  used  at  the  feast,  were  cleansed  with  prescribed  rites,  in  a 
settled  mode.  Metal  dishes,  etc.,  after  being  scoured,  must  be  first  dipped 
in  boiling  water— in  a  pot  used  for  no  other  purpose— and  then  into  cold. 
Iron  vessels  must  be  made  red-hot ;  then  washed  in  the  same  way.  Iron 
mortars,  for  crushing  grain  for  baking,  were  filled  with  red  coals,  till  a 
thread,  tied  outside,  was  burned  through.  "Wooden  vessels,  after  being 
wetted,  were  rubbed  with  a  red-hot  stone.  No  clay  dish  could  be  used  at 
all  if  not  quite  new,  and  it  had  to  be  first  dipped  thrice  in  running  water, 
and  consecrated  by  a  special  prayer.  Personal  purity  was  as  strictly 
enforced.     Every  one  had  to  cut  his  hair  and  nails,  and  to  take  a  bath. 

The  baking  of  the  unleavened  bread  was  accomi^anied  with  equally 
formal  care.  On  the  evening  of  the  1.3th,  "  before  the  stars  appeared,"  the 
head  of  each  household  went  out  and  drew  water  for  the  purjiose,  uttering 
the  words  as  he  did  so,  "  This  is  the  water  for  the  unleavened  bread,"  and 
covering  the  vessel  that  contained  it,  for  fear  of  any  defilement.  In  grind- 
ing the  flour,  the  most  anxious  care  was  observed  to  keep  all  leaven  from 


138  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

coming  near  the  woman  at  the  mill,  and  to  take  no  grain  tliat  was  at  all 
damp,  lest  it  might  have  begun  to  ferment.  After  baking,  one  loaf,  to  bo 
taken  to  the  priest  at  the  Temple,  was  laid  aside,  with  another  prescribed 
prayer. 

The  afternoon  of  the  14th  was  a  time  of  the  intensest  bustle,  for  the 
rams'  horn  trumpets  would  pi-esently  announce,  from  the  Temple,  the 
beginning  of  the  feast.  At  the  sound,  every  one  took  his  lamb  to  the 
Temple,  the  court  walls  of  which  were  gaily  hung  with  many-coloured 
carpets  and  tapestries,  in  honour  of  the  day.  The  countless  victims  must 
be  first  examined  by  the  priests,  to  see  if  they  were  without  blemish,  then 
slaughtered  and  prepared  for  roasting,  in  the  forecourts  of  the  Temple,  by 
the  heads  of  the  different  households,  or  by  men  deputed  by  them,  or  by 
the  Leyites  in  attendance,  with  indescribable  haste  and  confusion,  for  there 
was  more  than  work  enough  for  all,  to  kill,  almost  at  the  same  time,  the 
256,000  lambs  sometimes  required.  The  exact  time  for  slaying  the  victims 
was  "  between  the  evenings, "irom  sunset  of  the  l-lth  till  the  stars  appeared, 
though  they  might  be  killed  in  the  last  three  hours  of  the  day. 

As  soon  as  the  courts  were  full,  the  gates  were  shut  on  the  multitude 
within,  each  holding  his  lamb.  Three  blasts  of  trumpets  then  announced 
the  beginning  of  the  heavy  task.  Long  rows  of  priests,  with  gold  and 
silver  bowls,  stood  ranged  between  the  altar  and  the  victims,  to  catch  the 
blood,  and  pass  it  on  from  one  to  the  othei',  till  the  last  poui'ed  it  on  the 
altar,  from  which  it  ran  off,  through  pipes  beneath.  When  the  lamb  had 
been  drained  of  blood,  the  head  of  the  family  to  which  it  belonged  took  it 
to  the  hooks  on  the  walls  and  pillars  round,  where  it  was  opened  and 
skinned.  The  tail,  which,  in  the  sheep  of  Palestine,  often  weighs  many 
pounds,  and  the  fat,  were  handed  to  the  nearest  priest,  and  passed  on  till 
they  reached  the  altar,  to  be  burned  as  an  offering  to  God.  The  lamb  was 
killed  without  the  usual  laying  of  the  hands  on  its  head.  It  was  now  ready 
to  be  carried  away,  and  was  borne  off  by  the  family  head  in  its  skin,  which 
Tfas  afterwards  to  be  given  to  the  host  in  whose  house  the  feast  might  be 
held. 

ISTot  fewer  than  ten,  but  as  many  as  twenty,  might  sit  down  at  a  com- 
pany. Women  were  allowed  to  join  their  households,  though  it  was  not 
recpiired  that  they  should  eat  the  Passover ;  and  lads  from  fourteen,  and 
even  slaves  and  foreigners,  if  circumcised,  sat  down  with  the  rest.  Every- 
thing was  hurried,  for  the  lambs  were  required  to  be  killed,  roasted,  and 
eaten,  between  three  in  the  afternoon  and  nine  or  twelve  at  night.  They 
were,  properly,  to  be  eaten  in  the  courts  of  the  Temple,  but  this,  after  a 
time,  having  become  impossible,  they  might  be  consumed  anywhere  within 
the  Rabbinical  limits  of  the  city.  Thousands  of  fires,  in  special  ovens,  pre- 
pared them  ;  for  they  must  be  roasted  only;  not  boiled,  or  cooked  except  in 
this  way.  They  were  trussed  with  spits  of  pomegranate  wood,  inserted  in 
the  form  of  a  cross,  and  the  whole  creature  roasted  entire.  K'one  of  the 
flesh  was  allowed  to  remain  till  morning,  any  fragments  left  being  forth- 
with burned,  that  they  might  not  be  defiled.  The  very  dross  and  attitude 
of  all  v/ho  took  part  had  been  originally  prescribed,  but  these  details  were 
now  out  of  use. 


THE    TASSOVER   VISIT    TO   JERUSALEM.  139 

The  feast  itself  must  liavc  impressed  a  child  like  Jesus  no  less  than  the 
preparations.  Not  a  bone  of  the  lamb  must  be  broken,  under  a  penalty  of 
forty  stripes,  nor  must  any  part  of  it  touch  the  oven ;  and  if  any  fat  dropped 
back  on  it,  the  part  on  which  it  dropped  was  cut  off.  The  company  having 
assembled,  after  the  lamps  were  lighted,  arranged  themselves  in  due  order, 
on  couches,  round  the  tables,  reclining  on  their  left  side.  A  cup  of  red 
wine,  mixed  with  water,  was  filled  for  every  one,  and  drunk,  after  a  touch- 
ing benediction,  by  the  head  man  of  the  group.  A  basiii  of  water  and  a 
towel  were  then  brought  in,  that  each  might  wash  his  hands,  and  then 
another  blessing  was  pronounced. 

A  table  was  then  carried  into  the  open  space  between  the  couches,  and 
bitter  herbs,  and  unleavened  bread,  with  a  dish — made  of  dates,  raisins, 
and  other  fruit§,  mixed  with  vinegar  to  the  consistency  of  lime,  in  com- 
memoration of  the  mortar  Avith  which  their  fathers  worked  in  Egypt, — set 
on  it,  along  with  the  paschal  lamb.  The  head  man  now  took  some  of  the 
bitter  herbs,  dipped  them  in  the  dish,  and,  after  giving  thanks  to  God  for 
creating  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  ate  a  small  j^iece,  and  gave  one  to  each  of 
the  company.  A  second  cup  of  wine  and  water  was  then  poured  out,  and 
the  son  of  the  house,  or  the  youngest  boy  present,  asked  the  meaning  of 
the  feast.  The  questions  to  be  put  had  been  minutely  fixed  by  the  Rabbis, 
and  were  as  formally  and  minutely  answered  in  apjiointed  words,  the  whole 
story  of  the  deliverance  from  Egypt  being  thus  repeated,  year  after  year, 
at  every  Passover  table,  in  the  very  same  terms,  throughout  all  Israel. 

The  first  part  of  the  great  Hallelujah — Psalms  cxiii.  and  cxiv.— was  now 
chanted,  and  was  followed  by  a  prayer  beginning,  "  Blessed  art  Thou,  O 
Lord,  our  God,  King  of  the  universe,  who  hast  redeemed  us  and  our  fore- 
fathers from  Egypt."  A  third  cup  was  now  poured  out,  and  then  came 
the  grace  after  meals.  A  fourth  and  last  cup  followed,  and  then  Psalms 
cxv.,  cxvi.,  cxvii.,  and  cxviii.,  which  formed  the  rest  of  the  Hallelujah,  and 
another  prayer,  closed  the  feast. 

At  midnight  the  gates  of  the  Temple  were  once  more  opened,  and  the 
people,  who  seldom  slept  that  night,  poured  through  them,  in  their 
holiday  dress,  with  thank-offerings,  in  obedience  to  the  command  that 
none  should  appear  before  the  Lord  empty.  Of  these  gifts  the  priests 
took  their  rightful  share,  and  gave  back  the  rest  to  the  offerers,  who  had 
it  cooked  for  them  in  the  Court  of  the  Women,  and  sat  down  to  a  second 
feast  in  the  Temple  cloisters,  or  in  some  part  of  the  town,  within  the 
limits  of  which  alone  it  was  lawful  to  eat  such  food. 

The  whole  week  was  full  of  interest.  The  15th  was  kept  like  a  Sabbath. 
It  was  one  of  the  six  days  of  the  year  on  which  the  Law  prohibited  all 
servile  work.  Only  what  was  necessary  for  daily  life  might  be  done.  It 
was  a  day  for  rest,  and  for  the  presentation  of  freewill  offerings  in  the 
Temple. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  that  the  first-fruits  of  the  hai^vest  were  brought 
from  the  Kidron  valley  to  the  Temple,  to  be  waved  before  God  in  solemn 
acknowledgment  of  His  bounty  in  giving  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth. 
This  incident  Jesus,  doubtless,  saw.  He  would  notice,  besides,  how  the 
sheaf  had  no  sooner  been  offered  than  the  sta-eets  were  filled  with  sellers 


140  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

of  bread  made  of  new  barley,  parched  ears  of  the  young  crop,  and  early 
growths  and  fruits  of  all  kinds,  which  had  been  kept  back  till  then. 

From  the  17th  to  the  20th  the  days  were  only  half  holy,  and  many  of 
the  people  had  already  begun  to  leave  Jerusalem.  Crowds  still  remained, 
however,  to  enjoy  the  great  holiday  time  of  the  year,  and  the  days  and 
even  the  nights,  with  their  bright  moon,  went  merrily  by. 

The  last  day,  the  21st,  like  the  first,  was  kept  as  a  Sabbath.  Only 
necessary  work  was  permitted,  and  it  closed  with  the  rehearsal  of  the 
Passover  supper,  for  the  sake  of  those  who  could  not  come  up  on  the  first 
great  day  of  the  feast. 

But  amidst  all  the  sights  and  wonders  of  the  week  one  specially  in- 
terested Jesus.  His  heart  was  already  set  supremely  on  "  His  Father's 
house,"  the  Temple.  Can  we  doubt  that,  with  the  early  habits  of  the 
East,  He  found  time  to  watch  its  daily  service  throughout  ? 

This  began,  in  reality,  the  night  before.  The  priests  required  for  the 
services  of  the  next  day,  or  to  watch  through  the  night,  assembled  in  the 
evening  in  the  great  Fire  Chamber.  The  keys  of  the  Temple,  and  of  the 
inner  forecourts,  were  then  handed  them  by  their  brethren  whom  they 
relieved,  and  hidden  below  the  marble  floor.  The  Levites  on  watch 
through  the  night,  or  to  serve  next  day,  also  received  the  keys  of  the 
outer  forecourts  from  their  brethren  whose  duties  were  over.  Besides 
these,  twenty-four  representatives  of  the  people,  on  duty, — men  delegated 
by  the  nation  to  represent  it, — at  the  daily  sacrifices,  were  also  present. 

As  the  morning  service  began  very  early,  everything  was  put  in  train 
beforehand.  Ninety-three  vessels  and  instruments  needed  for  it  were 
received  from  the  retiring  Levites,  and  carried  to  a  silver  table  on  the 
south  of  the  Great  Altar,  to  be  readj^.  The  gates  of  the  Temple  building 
itself,  and  of  the  inner  forecourts,  were  locked  up  for  the  night,  the  key 
once  more  put  in  its  place,  the  priest  who  had  charge  of  it  kissing  the 
marble  slab  as  he  replaced  it,  and  lying  down  to  sleep  over  it  through  the 
night.  The  'gates  of  the  outer  forecourts  were  now  also  shut,  and  the 
watches  of  priests  and  Levites  set  for  the  night.  But  the  Temple  was  too 
sacred  to  be  entrusted  to  them  alone ;  the  Representatives  slejit  in  it  on 
behalf  of  the  people ;  besides  some  ecclesiastical  dignitaries,  deputed  by 
the  authorities,  and  one  of  the  higher  priests,  who  w*as  to  preside  over  the 
lots  for  daily  offices  next  morning. 

Towards  dawn,  the  captain  of  the  watch  and  some  priests  rose,  took  the 
keys,  and  passing  into  the  inner  forecourt,  preceded  by  torch-bearers, 
divided  into  two  bands,  which  went  round  the  Temple  courts,  to  see  that 
all  was  safe,  and  every  vessel  in  its  right  place. 

Meanwhile,  the  other  priests  had  risen,  bathed,  and  put  on  their  white 
robes.  The  duties  of  each  for  the  day  were  fixed  by  lot  each  morning,  to 
prevent  the  unseemly  quarrels,  resulting  even  in  bloodshed,  which  had 
formerly  risen.  Assembling  in  a  special  chamber,  all  stood  in  a  circle, 
and  the  lot  was  taken  by  counting  a  given  number  from  any  part  of  the 
ring,  the  choice  remaining  with  him  whose  place  made  up  the  figure. 
Meanwhile,  the  Levites  and  Eej^resentatives  Avaited  the  summons  to 
gather.     The  priests  for  the  dny  now  once  more  washed  their  hands  and 


THE    PASSOVER   VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  141 

feet  in  a  brazen  laver,  whicli,  itself,  had  been  kept  all  nigiit  in  water,  for 
fear  of  its  being  defiled.  The  feet  were  left  bare  while  the  priests  were  on 
duty. 

All  the  gates  were  presently  opened  by  the  Levites,  and  the  priests  blew 
thrice  on  their  trumpets  to  announce  to  the  whole  city  that  the  worship  of 
the  day  would  soon  begin.  The  Great  Altar  was  fortlnvith  cleansed  by 
priests  to  whose  lot  this  duty  had  fallen.  The  singers  and  musicians  of 
the  day,  and  the  priests  to  blow  the  trnmjoets  at  the  morning  sacrifice, 
were  set  apart ;  the  instruments  brought ;  the  night-watchers  dismissed, 
and  then  the  day's  service  had  begun.  All  this  took  jilace  by  torchlight, 
before  dawn. 

The  morning  sacrifice  could  not  be  slain  before  the  distinct  appearance 
of  the  morning  light.  A  watcher,  therefore,  standing  on  the  roof  of  the 
Temple,  looked  out  for  the  first  glimpse  of  Hebron,  far  off,  on  the  hills,  as 
the  sign  of  morning  having  come.  When  it  was  visible,  the  summons  was 
given — "  Priests,  to  your  ministry  !  Levites,  to  your  jolaces  !  Israelites, 
take  your  stations  !  "  The  priests  then  once  more  washed  their  feet  and 
hands,  and  the  service  finally  began. 

Entering  first  the  Temple,  and  then  the  Holy  Place,  with  lowly  rever- 
ence, a  priest  now,  after  jjr&yer,  cleansed  the  altar  of  incense,  gathered  the 
ashes  in  his  hands,  and  went  out  slowly,  backwards.  Another,  meanwhile, 
had  laid  wood  on  the  Great  Altar,  and  a  third  brought  to  the  north  side  of 
the  altar,  a  year-old  lamb,  selected  four  days  before,  from  the  pen  in  the 
Temple.  The  Representatives  having  laid  their  hands  on  its  head,  it  was 
slaughtered  with  the  head  to  the  west  side  of  the  Temple,  and  the  blood 
caught  in  a  bowl,  and  stirred  continually,  to  prevent  its  curdling  and  be- 
coming unfit  for  sprinkling. 

The  incense  offering  was  now  kindled.  At  the  tinkling  of  a  bell,  the 
people  in  the  inner  forecourt  began  to  pray,  and  the  priests  whose  lot  it 
was  entered  the  Holy  Place.  The  first  brought  out  the  censer  last  used, 
praying  and  walking  backward  as  he  retired.  The  blood  of  the  lamb  was 
sprinkled  on  the  four  sides  of  the  Great  Altar  as  soon  as  he  reappeared. 

A  second  jariest  having  now  extinguished  five  of  the  seven  lamps  of  the 
golden  candlestick  in  the  Holy  Place,  a  third  took  in  a  glowing  censer  and 
laid  it  on  the  altar,  prayed,  and  retired  backwards.  A  fourth  now  went 
in,  handed  the  censer  to  an  assistant  who  followed,  shook  incense  on  the 
coals,  prayed,  and  retired.  The  two  remaining  lights  were  then  extin- 
guished, and  the  offering  ended. 

The  skin  was  now  stripped  from  the  slain  lamb,  the  bowels  taken  out 
and  washed,  the  body  cut  in  pieces,  laid  on  a  marble  table,  and  salted. 
The  food  or  meat-offering  of  meal,  mixed  with  oil,  and  strewed  with 
incense,  was  then  prepared,  and  a  fixed  measure  of  wine  poured  into  a 
costly  cup  for  the  drink-offering.     It  was  now  sunrise. 

As  the  sun  rose,  the  nine  pieces  of  the  sacrifice  were  lifted  by  nine 
priests,  and  carried  to  the  Great  Altar,  in  order — laid  on  it  and  consumed 
— the  other  priests  and  the  people  repeating  morning  jjrayer.  The  meat- 
offering was  then  laid  on  the  altar,  salt  and  incense  added,  and  then  a 
handful  of  it  was  thrown  on  the  altar  fire,  the  rest  falling  to  the  priest  as 


142  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

his  perquisite.  Twelve  cakes,  the  bread-offering  of  the  high  priest,  were 
nest  burned,  after  being  strewn  with  salt.  Every  detail  had  occupied  a 
separate  priest,  and  now  another  poured  the  wine  of  the  drink-offering 
into  a  silver  funnel  in  the  altar,  through  which  it  ran  into  a  conduit 
underneath. 

The  morning  sacrifice  was  now  over.  Forthwith  two  priests  sounded 
their  trumpets  nine  times,  and  twelve  Levites,  standing  on  a  raised  plat- 
form in  the  Court  of  the  Priests,  recited  the  psalms  of  the  day  to  the 
music  of  their  instruments,  and  then  came  the  ancient  priestly  bene- 
diction—" The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee ;  the  Lord  make  His  face 
shine  ujoon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee  ;  the  Lord  lift  up  His  counten- 
ance upon  thee,  and  grant  thee  peace." 

Voluntary  offerings,  and  those  required  on  special  grounds,  occupied 
the  priests,  for  a  time,  after  the  morning  sacrifice.  At  three  in  the  after- 
noon the  evening  sacrifice  and  incense  offering  presented  the  same  details, 
the  victim  being  left  on  the  altar  to  burn  away  through  the  night.  At 
sunset  the  Sch'ma  was  read  again,  and  the  evening  prayer  offered;  the 
seven  lamps  in  the  Holy  Place  again  kindled  and  left  to  burn  till  morning, 
and  all  the  vessels  cleaned  by  the  Levites,  and  made  ready  for  next  day. 

This  daily  service  was  no  doubt  watched  by  the  child  Jesus,  who  now, 
for  the  first  time,  saw  the  priests  in  His  Father's  house  at  their  ministra- 
tions. But  the  city  itself  would  be  sure  to  arrest  His  notice.  At  early 
dawn  he  would  hear  the  trumpets  of  the  Roman  garrison  in  Antonia,  and 
see  the  booths  open  shortly  after,  on  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Three  trumpet 
blasts  from  the  Temple  had  already  waked  the  slumbering  citizens  and 
pilgrims,  and  the  first  beams  of  the  sun  had  announced  the  hour  of  morn- 
ing prayer.  The  streets  had  already  filled  in  the  twilight,  for  the  Oriental, 
in  all  ages,  has  been  an  early  riser.  Sheep  and  cattle  dealers,  and  money- 
changers, were  hurrying  to  the  Court  of  the  Heathen.  Worshippers  were 
thronging  across  the  Xystus  bridge  from  the  Upper  City  to  the  Temple, 
and  through  the  Market  gate,  from  the  Lower  Town,  along  all  the  streets. 
The  countless  synagogues  were  open  for  morning  service.  Men  wearing 
the  Greek  dress,  and  speaking  Greek,  had  gathered  in  some,  and  other 
nationalities  in  others. 

With  the  first  sight  of  the  risen  sun  every  one  bowed  his  head  in  prayer, 
wherever  at  the  moment  he  might  be.  Yonder  a  Pharisee,  who  has  pur- 
posely let  the  hour  overtake  him,  in  the  street,  suddenly  stops,  and  puts 
his  Tephillin,  broader  and  larger  than  common,  on  his  forehead  and  arm. 
The  olive-gatherer,  with  his  basket,  prays  where  he  is,  in  the  tree.  Pil- 
grims and  citizens  are  alike  bent  in  prayer. 

It  was  an  uneasy  time  when  Jesus  first  visited  Jerusalem.  Archelaus 
had  been  banished  two  years  before,  and  the  hateful  race  of  the  Edomites 
no  longer  reigned  in  the  palace  on  Zion,  but  the  hopes  built  on  the  change 
to  direct  government  by  a  Roman  Procurator  had  not  been  fulfilled. 
Judea  was  now  only  a  part  of  the  Roman  province,  and  the  first  act  of  the 
direct  imperial  rule  had  been  to  make  a  census  of  the  whole  country  for 
heathen  taxes.  Galilee  and  Judea,  alike,  had  been  in  wild  insurrection, 
which  had  been  quenched  in  blood.     Men  spoke  with  bated  breath,  but 


THE   PASSOVER   VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  143 

were  at  one  in  deadly  hatred  of  the  foreigner,  and  in  the  yearning  hope 
that  the  Messiah  might  soon  appear  to  drive  him  out. 

The  great  bazaar  in  the  Lower  New  Town  was  early  full  of  bustle.  It 
was  a  long  street,  crowded  with  stalls,  booths,  and  shops.  Fine  bread  of 
the  wheat  of  Ephrsim  was  sold  after  the  second  day  of  the  feast.  Cakes 
of  figs  and  raisins ;  fish  of  different  kinds  from  the  Sea  of  Tiberias ;  wood- 
work of  all  kinds,  filled  the  open  stalls.  Dibs — the  syi^up  of  grapes — had 
many  sellers,  and  there  were  booths  for  Egyjitian  lentiles,  and  even  for 
cinnamon  and  pepper.  Mechanics  plied  their  trades  in  the  streets,  too 
busy  to  rise  even  when  a  great  Rabbi  passed.  In  the  side  streets  trades 
of  every  kind  filled  the  roadway.  Potters  were  busy  in  their  sheds-, 
fruiterers  offered  choice  Jerusalem  figs  from  gardens  made  rich  with  the 
blood  of  the  sacrifices  ;  flax-beaters  pounded  their  flax  in  the  streets.  The 
numbers  of  passing  priests  showed  that  Jerusalem  was  the  Holy  City. 
Levites,  with  their  peculiar  head-dress,  and  an  outside  pocket  containing 
a  small  roll  of  the  Law ;  Pharisees,  with  broad  phylacteries  and  great 
fringes  ;  Essenes  in  white,  with  the  air  of  old  prophets ;  gorgeous  officials 
of  the  governor's  court,  at  present  in  the  city— pilgrims  in  the  costume  of 
every  land,  and  speaking  a  babel  of  languages — passed  and  repassed  in 
endless  variety. 

The  peojDle  of  Jerusalem  might  well  value  the  feasts,  for  they  lived  by 
the  vast  numbers  of  pilgrims.  The  money  s^^ent  by  individuals,  though 
little  compared  to  the  wealth  which  flowed  yearly  into  the  Temple  treasury, 
from  the  whole  Dispersion,  was  great  in  the  aggregate.  The  gifts  in 
money  to  the  Temple  might  in  part  remain  there ;  but  doves,  lambs,  and 
oxen  were  needed  for  sacrifices,  wood  for  the  altar,  and  all  liked  to  carry 
home  memorials  of  Jerusalem.  The  countless  priests  and  Levites,  and 
officials  connected  with  the  Temple,  caused  a  great  circulation  of  money, 
and  the  building  itself,  and  the  requirements  of  its  worshijo,  involved 
constant  exjDenditure.  We  need  not,  therefore,  wonder  that  Jerusalem 
was  wildly  fanatical  in  its  zeal  for  the  Holy  Place.  It  was  bound  to  it  not 
less  by  self-interest  than  by  religious  bigotry. 

Jerusalem,  though  by  no  means  large,  was  the  headquarters  of  the  great 
religious  institutions,  as  the  capital  of  the  theocracy.  Countless  scribes, 
rulers,  presbyters,  scholars,  readers,  and  servants  were  connected  with  its 
schools  and  synagogues.  It  was  the  seat  of  all  the  famous  teachers  of  the 
Law,  the  focus  of  controversy^  the  i;niversity  town  of  the  Eabbis,  the 
battle-ground  of  religious  parties, — the  capital  of  the  Jewish  nation,  in 
short,  in  a  measure  only  possible  from  its  having  in  its  midst  the  one 
Temple  of  the  race.  It  was  the  Delphi  and  Olympia  of  Israel,  and  how 
much  more !  Such  a  city,  at  such  a  time,  must  have  made  lasting  impres- 
sions on  the  boy  Jesus.  But  His  heart  was  set  supremely  on  higher  things 
than  the  merely  outward  and  earthly.  From  His  earliest  years  His 
mother's  faith  in  the  mysterious  words  spoken  by  saints  and  angels  re- 
specting Him,  even  before  His  birth,  must  have  shown  itself  in  a  thousand 
ways  in  her  intercourse  with  Him,  and  have  kindled  wonderful  thoughts 
in  His  boyish  mind.  We  cannot  conceive  the  relations  of  His  divine 
nature  to  the  human,  but  it  must  be  safe  to  follow  the  Gospels  in  their 


144  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

picture   of  Him  as  maturing  year  by  year,  from   the  simplicity  of  the 
child  to  the  wisdom  and  strength  of  riper  years. 

Physical  and  intellectual  ripeness  come  early  in  the  East.  David, 
Herod,  Hyrcanus,  and  Josephus  showed,  even  in  boyhood,  traits  which  in 
more  backward  climates  mark  much  later  years.  Josephus  tells  us  that 
numbers  of  Jewish  boys  put  to  torture  in  Egypt,  nrider  Vespasian,  after 
the  fall  of  Masada,  bore  unflinchingly  the  utmost  that  could  be  inflicted  on 
them,  rather  than  own  Cassar  as  their  lord,  and  even  in  our  own  day 
children  in  Palestine  are  so  early  matured  that  marriages  of  boys  of 
thirteen  and  girls  of  eleven  are  not  unknown.  Philo,  in  Christ's  day, 
notes  different  ages  strangely  enough  to  our  ideas.  "  At  seven,"  he  says, 
"  a  man  is  a  logician  and  a  grammarian  ;  at  fourteen  mature,  because  able 
to  be  the  father  of  a  being  like  himself ;  while,  at  twenty-one,  growth  and 
bloom  are  over."  "  A  son  of  five  years,"  says  Juda  Ben  Tema,  "  is  to  read 
the  Scriptures,  one  of  ten  to  give  himself  to  the  Mischna,  of  thirteen  to 
the  Commandments,  of  fifteen  to  the  Talmud,  of  eighteen  to  marriage." 

The  Eabbis,  perhaps  from  the  tradition  that  Moses  left  his  father's 
house  when  twelve  years  old,  that  Samuel  had  begun  to  prophesy  when  he 
had  finished  his  twelfth  year,  and  that  Solomon  had  delivered  some  of  his 
famous  judgments  when  as  young,  had  already  in  Christ's  day  fixed  that 
age  as  the  close  of  boyhood  and  the  opening  of  a  manlier  life.  "  After  the 
completion  of  the  twelfth  year,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  a  boy  is  to  be  con- 
sidered a  youth,  and  is  to  keep  the  fast  on  the  Day  of  Atonement.  Till  he 
is  thirteen  his  religious  duties  are  to  be  performed  for  him  by  his  father, 
but  on  his  thirteenth  birthday  the  parent  is  no  longer  answerable  for  lus 
son's  sins." 

Jesus,  who  had  ended  His  twelfth  year  when  taken  up  to  the  Passover, 
was  thus  already  a  "  Son  of  the  Law,"  and,  as  such,  reqiiired  to  perform 
all  religious  duties.  The  Tephillin  or  phylacteries  had,  doubtless,  as  was 
usual,  been  put  on  Him  publicly  in  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth,  to  mark 
the  transition  from  boyhood,  to  remind  Him  that  He  was  henceforth  to 
wear  them,  to  keep  the  fasts,  to  follow  the  laws  of  the  Rabbis,  and  to  think 
seriously  of  his  future  calling  in  life.  He  would  be  much  freer,  therefore, 
to  go  where  He  liked,  without  supervision,  than  a  boy  of  the  same  age  with 
us,  and  hence  all  Jerusalem,  with  its  thousand  wonders,  lay  before  Him,  to 
study  as  He  chose. 

The  week  of  the  feast  ended,  Joseph  and  Mary  turned  their  faces  to- 
wards home.  The  confusion  and  bustle  around  must  have  been  indescrib- 
able. Any  one  who  has  seen  the  motley  crowds  of  Easter  pilgrims  return- 
ing from  the  Jordan  at  the  joresent  day  may  have  some  faint  idea  of  the 
scene.  The  start  is  always  made  at  night,  to  escape  the  great  heat  of  the 
day,  and  in  the  darkness,  lighted  only  by  torches,  it  needs  care  not  to  be 
trampled  under  foot.  At  narrow  or  difficult  parts  of  the  road  the  noise 
and  confusion  are  bewildering — women  in  terror  of  being  trampled  down 
by  a  long  file  of  camels,  tied  one  behind  another ;  parents  calling  for  lost 
children  ;  friends  shouting  for  friends ;  muleteers  and  ass  drivers  beating 
and  cursing  their  beasts  ;  the  whole  wedged  into  a  moving  mass,  all  alike 
excited. 


THE   PASSOVER   VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  145 

As  the  distauco  from  Jerusalem  increased,  and  different  divisions 
branched  off  to  different  roads,  danger  -would  cease,  and  the  scene  be- 
come more  picturesque.  Veiled  -women  and  venerable  men  -would  pass, 
mounted  on  camels,  mules,  or  perhaps  horses ;  younger  men  -walking  along- 
side, staff  in  hand ;  children  playing  at  the  side  of  the  path  as  the  caval- 
cade slowly  advanced  ;  and  the  journey  ever  and  anon  beguiled  -with  tabret 
and  pipe.  Only  -when  the  pilgrims  had  thus  got  a-way  from  the  first 
cro-\^'d,  would  it  be  possible  for  each  group  to  know  if  all  its  members 
were  safe. 

Among  many  others,  some  one  of  whose  family  had  for  the  time  been 
separated  from  them  in  the  confusion,  were  Joseph  and  Mary.  On  reach- 
ing their  first  night's  encampment  they  discovered  that  the  boy  Jesus  was 
not  in  the  caravan.  He  had  likely  been  missed  earlier,  but  He  might  be 
with  friends  in  some  other  part  of  the  crowd.  After  seeking  diligently 
for  Him,  however,  without  success,  they  were  greatly  alarmed.  Amidst 
such  vast  multitudes  He  might  be  lost  to  them  for  ever. 

Kotliing  was  left  but  to  return  to  Jerusalem,  which  they  re-entered  on 
the  evening  of  the  second  day.  But  they  could  learn  nothing  of  Him  till 
the  day  after,  when,  at  last,  they  found  Him  in  one  of  the  schools  of  the 
Rabbis,  held  in  the  Temple  courts. 

These  schools  were  a  characteristic  of  the  times.  They  were  open,  and 
any  one  entering  might  answer  or  propose  a  question.  The  Rabbi  sat  on 
a  high  seat ;  his  scholars  on  the  ground,  at  his  feet,  in  half-circles  :  their 
one  study  the  Law,  with  its  Rabbinical  comments. 

In  the  school  in  which  Jesus  was  found,  a  number  of  Rabbis  were  pre- 
sent, perhaps  because  it  was  the  Passover  season.  The  gentle  Hillel — the 
Looser— was  perhaps  still  alive,  and  may  possibly  have  been  among  them. 
The  harsh  and  strict  Shammai — the  Binder — his  old  rival,  had  been  long 
dead.  Hillel's  son,  Rabban  Simeon,  and  even  his  greater  grandson, 
Gamaliel,  the  futiu-e  teacher  of  St.  Paul,  may  have  been  of  the  number, 
though  Gamaliel  would,  then,  like  Jesus,  be  only  a  bo3^  Hanan,  or  Annas, 
son  of  Seth,  had  been  just  appointed  high  priest,  but  did  not  likely  see 
Him,  as  a  boy.  whom  he  was  afterwards  to  crucify.  Apart  from  the  bitter 
hostility  between  the  priests  and  the  Rabbis,  he  would  be  too  busy  with  his 
monopoly  of  doves  for  the  Temple,  to  care  for  tlie  discussions  of  the 
schools,  for  he  owned  the  shops  for  doves  on  Mount  Olivet,  and  sold  them 
for  a  piece  of  gold,  though  the  Law  had  chosen  them  as  offerings  suited 
for  the  poorest  from  their  commonness  and  cheapness. 

Among  the  famous  men,  then,  apparently,  living  in  Jerusalem,  was 
Rabbi  Jochanan  Ben  Zacchai,  afterwards  rej^uted  a  prophet,  from  hig 
once  crying  out — when  the  Temple  gate  opened  of  itself — "  Temple, 
Temple,  why  do  you  frighten  us  ?  "VVe  know  that  thou  will  shortly  be 
destroyed,  for  it  says — '  Open,  Lebanon,  thy  gates,  and  let  fire  devour 
thy  cedars.'"  Jonathan  Ben  Uzziel,  the  Targumist,  revered  by  his  nation  ; 
Rabbi  Ben  Buta,  who,  though  of  Shammai's  school,  was  almost  as  mild  as 
Hillel,  and,  like  him,  had  a  great  reputation  for  Rabbinical  sanctity  ;  now 
blind  these  many  years,  for  Herod  had  put  out  his  eyes  ;  Dosithai  of 
Jethma,  a  zealous  opponent  of  Herod ;  Zadok,  who  had  taken  part  in  the 

L 


146  THE   LIFE    OF   CIIEIST. 

rising  of  Judas  the  Gaiilonite  ;  Boctlios,  father  of  one  of  Herod's  wives— 
the  second  Mariamne  -  once  high  priest,  and  now  the  head  of  the  courtly 
Herodian  and  Eoman  party ;  Mcodemus,  who  afterwards  came  to  Jesus 
by  night,  and  the  rich  Joseph  of  Arimathea,— in  a  grave  given  by  whom 
Jesus  was  afterwards  to  lie,  were  all  apparently,  then  alive.  But  we  can 
only  conjecture  in  whose  presence  Jesus  sat,  for  dates  are  sadly  wanting. 
One  picture  alone  survives  in  Scripture,  of  Hebrew  boyhood  in  its  noblest 
beauty— that  of  David,  with  his  lustrous  eyes,  auburn  hair,  and  lovely 
features.  It  is  no  great  stretch  of  fancy  to  believe  that  He  who  was  at 
once  David's  heir  and  his  lord— the  Son  of  David  in  a  sense  higher  than 
man  had  dreamed — realized  the  name  not  less  in  His  personal  beauty  than 
in  other  respects.  The  passion  of  His  soul— to  learn  more  of  His  Father's 
business— had  led  Him  naturally  to  the  famed  schools  in  His  Father's 
house,  where  the  wisest  and  most  learned  of  His  nation  made  the  holy 
books,  in  which  that  Father's  will  was  revealed,  their  lifelong  study.  The 
mystery  of  His  own  nature  and  of  His  relations  to  His  Father  in  Heaven 
was  dawning  on  Him  more  and  more.  His  mother's  words,  from  time  to 
time,  had  daily  a  deeper  and  more  wondrous  significance,  and  His  sinless 
spirit  lived  in  ever  growing  communion  with  unseen  and  eternal  realities. 
He  had  naturally,  therefore,  sought  those  who  could  open  for  Him  the 
fountains  of  Heavenly  wisdom  for  which  His  whole  being  panted,  and  was 
the  keenest  listener,  and  the  most  eager  in  His  questions,  of  all  the  group 
seated  at  their  feet.  The  days  would  come  when  no  further  growth  was 
possible,  and  then  He  would  sit  in  the  courts  of  the  same  Temple,  as  a 
teacher  who  needed  no  human  help.  As  yet,  however.  He  could  not  honour 
His  Father  more  than  by  seeking,  as  a  child,  to  know  His  holy  Word  from 
its  accredited  expounders.  Enthusiasm  so  pure  and  lofty  in  one  so  young, 
lighting  up  the  beauty  of  such  eyes  and  features,  may  well  have  filled  the 
heart  of  the  gravest  Eabbi  with  wonder  and  delight. 

In  this  school  of  the  Rabbis  Mary  and  Joseph  found  Him,  sitting  on  the 
ground,  with  others,  at  the  feet  of  the  half-circle  of  "  doctors,"  His  whole 
soul  so  absorbed  in  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  that  He  had  forgotten  all 
other  thoughts  :  His  family  circle — the  flight  of  time.  It  was  no  wonder 
to  find  Him  in  such  a  place,  for  as  "  a  Son  of  the  Law  "  it  was  only  what  a 
Jew  exi^ected,  but  it  might  well  amaze  them  that  He  had  been  so  engrossed 
with  such  matters  as  to  be  still  there,  after  the  feast  was  over,  and  not  only 
Mary  and  Joseph,  but  the  great  throng  of  pilgrims,  had  left  for  home. 
As  befitted  her  higher  relationship,  and  with  the  greater  zeal  natural  to  a 
mother's  love  in  such  a  case,  she,  not  Joseph,  spoke.  "  Son,"  said  she, 
"why  hast  Thou  thus  dealt  with  us?  Behold,  Thy  father  and  I  have 
sought  Thee  sorrowing."  It  seemed  so  strange  that  one  so  gentle,  docile, 
and  loving,  who  had  never  given  them  an  anxious  thought  by  any  childish 
frowardness,  should  cause  them  such  pain  and  alarm.  The  answer,  gentle 
and  lofty,  must  have  fallen  on  Mary's  heart  as  a  soft  rebuke,  though  she 
could  not  understand  its  fulness  of  meaning  :  "  How  is  it  that  ye  sought 
Me  ?  There  was  no  place  where  I  could  so  surely  be  as  in  My  Father's 
house — there  were  no  matters  which  could  so  rightfully  fill  My  thoughts 
as  His  p  "     Her  Son  was  outgrowing  His  childhood  :  the  light  of  a  higher 


EARLY   YEARS.  147 

world  was  breaking  in  on  His  soul ;  the  claims  of  tlio  home  of  Nazareth 
were  fading  before  others  infinitely  greater  and  holier. 

A  sinless  childhood  had  made  the  past  a  long  dream  of  i^cace  and  love 
in  the  home  at  Nazareth,  and  this  only  deepened  as  the  simplicity  of  early 
years  passed  into  the  ripeness  of  a  perfect  manhood.  Though  He  must 
have  felt  the  growing  distance  between  Himself  and  Joseph,  or  even 
Mary;  their  weakness  and  His  own  strength;  their  simplicity  and  His 
own  wisdom;  their  frail  humanity,  touched  by  daily  sin,  and  His  own 
pure  and  sinless  nature,  He  remained  subject  to  them,  as  if  only  like 
others.  If  ever  there  was  a  son  who  might  have  been  expected  to  claim 
independence  it  was  He,  and  yet,  to  sanctify  and  enforce  filial  obedience 
for  ever,  He  lived  on,  under  their  humble  roof,  exemplary  in  the  imiDlicit 
and  far-reaching  obedience  of  a  Jewish  youth  to  his  parents. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

EAELY    TEAUS. 

XpOH  nearly  eighteen  years^  after  the  Passover  visit  to  Jerusalem,  a 
-°~  deep  obscurity  rests  over  the  life  of  Jesus.  Like  Plis  cousin  John, 
or  the  sheioherd  Moses,  or  the  youthful  David,  He  came  before  the  world 
at  last,  only  after  a  long  and  humble  seclusion.  The  qniet  valley  and  hills 
of  Nazareth  saw  Him  gradually  ripen  into  youth  and  manhood — as  son, 
brother,  citizen,  neighbour,  friend — like  others.  There  was  no  sudden  or 
miraculous  disclosure  of  His  Divine  greatness.  Like  the  grain  in  the 
fields  beneath  His  early  home.  His  growth  was  imperceptible.  The  white, 
flat-roofed  houses  of  to-day  are,  doubtless,  much  the  same  as  those  amidst 
which  He  played  as  a  child,  and  lived  as  a  man  ;  vines  shading  the  walls  ; 
doves  sunning  themselves  on  the  flat  roofs  ;  the  arrangements,  within,  as 
simple,  as  they  are  unpretending,  without.  A  few  mats  on  the  floor,  a 
built  seat  running  along  the  wall,  spread  with  some  modest  cushions  and 
the  bright  quilts  on  which  the  inmates  sleep  at  night,  and  serving  by  day 
as  shelf  for  the  few  dishes  in  common  nse  ;  a  painted  chest  in  the  corner  ; 
some  large  clay  water  jars,  their  mouths  filled,  perhaps,  with  sweet  herbs, 
to  keep  the  contents  cool  and  fresh ;  the  only  light  that  entering  by  the 
open  door ;  a  low,  round,  painted,  wooden  stool,  brought,  at  meals,  into 
the  middle  of  the  room,  to  hold  the  tray  and  dish,  round  which  the  house- 
hold sit,  with  crossed  knees,  on  mats — supply  the  picture  of  a  house  at 
Nazareth  of  the  humbler  t^'pe.  It  may  be  that  difi'crences  in  details  were 
found  in  early  times,  for  many  of  the  houses  of  ancient  Chorazin  are  yet 
tolerably  perfect,  and  show  some  variations  from  present  dwellings. 
Generally  square,  they  ranged  downwards  in  size,  from  about  30  feet  each 
way,  and  had  one  or  two  columns  in  the  centre,  to  support  the  flat  roof. 
The  walls,  which  are  still,  in  some  cases,  six  feet  high,  and  about  two  feet 
thick,  were  built  of  masonry  or  of  loose  blocks  of  basalt,  Chorazin  being 
on  the  volcanic  edge  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  not,  like  Nazareth,  on  lime- 
stone hills.     A  low  doorway  opened  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  walls,  and 


148  THE   LIFE    OF   CIIIIIST. 

each  house  had  windows  a  foot  high  and  about  six  inches  broad.  But, 
like  the  houses  of  to-day,  most  had  only  one  chamber,  though  some  were 
divided  into  four. 

In  the  shelter  of  some  such  home,  in  one  of  the  narrow,  stony  streets  of 
Nazareth,  Jesus  grew  up.  On  the  hillsides,  in  the  little  crossways  between 
the  houses,  in  the  rude  gardens,  in  the  fields  below  the  town,  beside  the 
bounteous  fountain  outside  the  houses,  near  the  road,  from  which  the 
village  mothers  and  daughters  still  bear  the  watqr  for  their  households — 
He  was  a  child  among  other  children.  As  He  grew,  year  by  year.  His 
great  eyes  would  shine  with  a  spiritual  brightness,  and  His  mind  would 
be  filled  with  strange  loneliness  that  woidd  separate  Him  from  most.  He 
must,  inevitably,  have,  early,  seemed  as  if  raised  above  everything  earthly, 
and  no  imiiure  word  or  thought  would  appear  befitting  in  His  presence. 
As  a  growing  lad.  He  would  already  feel  the  isolation  which,  in  His  later 
years,  became  so  extreme,  for  how  could  sinlcssness  be  at  home  with  sin 
and  weakness  ?  He  would  seek  the  society  of  the  elders  rather  than  of 
the  young,  and,  while  devoted  to  Joseph,  would  be  altogether  so  to  His 
mother.  The  habits  of  His  later  life  let  us  imagine  that,  even  in  His 
youth,  He  often  withdrew  to  the  loneliest  retreats  in  the  mountains  and 
valleys  round,  and  we  may  fancy  that  Mary,  knowing  His  ways,  would 
cease,  after  a  time,  to  wonder  where  He  was.  One  height,  we  may  be  sure, 
was  often  visited  :  the  mountain-top  above  the  village,  from  which  His  eye 
could  wander  over  the  wondrous  landscape. 

The  Passover,  though  the  greatest  religious  solemnity  of  the  year,  was 
only  one  in  a  continually  recurring  series.  Four  times  each  year,  in  July, 
October,  January,  and  March,  different  events  in  the  national  history 
would  be  more  or  less  strictly  observed  in  the  Jewish  community  at 
Nazareth.  Special  fasts  were,  moreover,  ordered,  from  time  to  time,  in 
seasons  of  public  danger  or  distress.  Thene  days,  set  a2:)art  for  repentance 
and  prayer,  excited  a  general  and  deep  religious  feeling.  At  all  times 
striking,  they  sometimes,  in  exceptional  cases,  were  singularly  impressive. 
On  special  public  humiliations  all  the  people  covered  themselves  with  sack- 
cloth, and  strewed  ashes  on  their  heads,  as  they  stood  Ijefore  the  Reader's 
desk,  brought  from  the  synagogue  into  some  ojDcn  place,  and  similarly 
draped  in  mourning.  Jesus  must  have  seen  this,  and  how  ashes  were  put 
on  the  heads  of  the  local  judges  and  rulers  of  the  synagogue,  on  such  a 
day,  and  He  must  have  listened  to  the  Eabbi  calling  on  all  present  to  re- 
pent, and  to  the  prayers  and  penitential  psalms  which  followed,  and  to  the 
trumpets  wailing  at  the  close  of  each.  He  may  have  gone  with  Joseph 
and  all  the  congregation,  when  the  service  ended,  to  the  burial-place  of 
the  village  to  lambent. 

But  such  sadness  was  by  no  means  the  characteristic  of  the  national  reli- 
gion. Fifty  days  after  the  Passover,  multitudes  were  once  more  in  motion  to- 
wards Jerusalem,  to  attend  the  Feast  of  Weeks,  or  First-Fruits.  The  vast 
numbers  present  at  it  are  recorded  in  the  second  chapter  of  the  Acts.  It 
was  one  of  the  three  great  festivities  of  the  year,  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  in  His  Nazareth  life  Jesus  and  the  household  of  Joseph,  as  a 
whole,  took  part  in  so  great  and  universal  a  rejoicing. 


EARLY   YEAES.  149 

The  intending  pilgrims  in  Nazareth  and  the  district  round  met  in  the 
town,  as  a  convenient  centre,  to  arrange  for  the  journey.  As  before  the 
Passover,  liowever,  no  one  slept  in  any  house  immediately  before  startino-, 
all  going  out  into  the  open  country  and  sleeping  in  the  open  air,  lest  a 
death  might  happen  where  they  lodged,  and  defile  them,  so  that  they 
could  not  keep  the  feast.  They  had  to  be  in  Jerusalem  before  the  6th  of 
Siwan  (June),  on  which  and  the  7th  the  feast  was  held,  and,  therefore,  set 
off  some  days  before.  The  early  harvest  was  mostly  over,  so  that  many 
could  go.  Wives,  unmarried  sisters,  and  children  accompanied  not  a  few. 
Flocks  of  sheep  and  oxen,  for  sacrifice  and  feasting,  were  driven  gently 
along  with  the  bands  of  pilgrims,  and  strings  of  asses  and  camels,  laden 
with  provisions  and  simple  necessaries,  or  with  free-will  gifts  to  the  Temple, 
or  bearing  the  old  or  feeble,  lengthened  the  train.  Every  one  wore  festal 
clothes,  and  not  a  few  carried  garlands  and  wreaths  of  flowers.  The  cool 
banks  of  streams,  or  some  well,  offered  resting-places  by  the  way,  and  the 
pure  water,  with  melons,  dates,  or  cucumbers,  sufficed  for  their  simple 
food.  Different  bands  united  as  they  passed  fresh  towns  and  villages. 
All  were  roused,  each  morning,  with  the  cry,  "  Else,  let  us  go  up  to  Zion, 
to  the  Eternal,  our  God !  "  The  offerings  of  first-fruits — the  choicest  of 
the  year — in  baskets  of  willows,  or  even  of  gold  or  silver ;  doves  for  burnt 
offerings,  with  their  wings  bound,  and  the  ox,  intended  for  a  peace  offering, 
— its  horns  gilded,  and  bound  with  wreaths  of  olive, — went  first.  Flutes 
forthwith  struck  ujo,  and  the  cavalcade  moved  on,  to  the  chant,  "  I  was  glad 
when  they  said  to  me,  We  shall  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord."  Similar 
hymns  cheered  them  ever  and  anon  on  each  day's  march.  When  within 
sight  of  Jerusalem,  all  was  enthusiasm.  Many  threw  themselves  on  their 
knees  in  devotion,  lifting  their  hands  to  heaven.  Presently  all  burst  into 
the  grand  ode,  "  Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth  is 
Mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the  North,  the  city  of  the  great  King" — the 
excitement  culminating  in  the  climax — "  For  this  God  is  our  God  for  ever 
and  ever ;  He  will  be  our  guide  even  unto  death."  A  halt  was  now  made 
to  get  everything  in  order.  All  arrayed  themselves  to  the  best  advantage. 
The  wheatsheaves  were  wreathed  with  lilies  and  the  first-fruits  bedded  in 
flowers,  and  set  out  as  effectively  as  possible.  Each  company  unrolled  its 
banner,  bearing  the  name  of  the  town  or  village  from  which  it  came. 
When  near  the  citj^  priests  in  their  white  robes  came  out  to  meet  them, 
accompanied  by  a  throng  of  citizens  in  holiday  dress  ;  and  as  they  entered 
the  gates  they  sang  aloud  to  the  accompaniment  of  flutes,  the  Psalm,  "  I 
was  glad  when  they  said  to  me.  Let  us  go  into  .the  house  of  the  Lord.  Our 
feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  0  Jerusalem."  The  workmen  at  their 
trades  in  the  streets,  or  at  their  doors,  rose  in  honour  of  the  i)rocession  as 
it  passed,  with  the  greeting,  "  Men  of  Nazareth  (or  elsewhere),  welcome  !  " 
a  great  crowd  as  they  advanced,  filling  the  air  with  gladness.  At  the 
Temple  hill,  every  one,  rich  and  poor — for  all  shared  in  these  processions 
— took  his  basket  on  his  shoulder  and  ascended  to  the  Court  of  Men, 
where  the  Levites  met  them,  and  fell  into  the  procession,  singing,  to  the 
sound  of  their  instruments,  the  Psalm,  beginning,  "  Hallelujah  !  Praise 
God  in  His  sanctuary  ;  praise  Him  in  the  firmament  of  His  power."     "  I 


150  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

thank  Thee,  0  Lord,  for  Thou  hast  hoard  me,  and  hast  not  let  mine  enemies 
rejoice  over  me."  The  doves  hanging  from  the  baskets  were  now  handed 
to  the  priests  for  burnt  offerings,  and  the  first-fruits  and  gifts  delivered, 
with  the  words  prescribed  by  Moses,  "  I  profess  this  day  unto  the  Lord 
thy  God  that  I  am  come  into  the  country  which  the  Lord  sware  to  our 
fathers  to  give  us.  And  now,  behold,  I  have  brought  the  first-fruits  of  the 
land,  which  Thou,  0  Lord,  hast  given  me."  The  pilgrims  then  left  the 
Temple,  followed  by  the  great  throng,  some  to  lodge  with  relations  and 
friends,  others  with  some  of  the  many  hosts  inviting  them. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Jesus  was  .more  than  once  a  spectator  of 
such  rejoicings,  and  often  in  His  earlier  years  saw  the  vast  encampments 
of  pilgrims  from  every  part,  round  the  city :  the  tents  spread  on  each  house- 
top to  lodge  the  overflowing  visitors  ;  the  windows  and  doors  decked  with 
branches  of  trees,  and  garlands  and  festoons  of  flowers,  the  streets  flutter- 
ing with  banners  wreathed  with  roses  and  lilies,  and  filled  with  gay  throngs. 

In  the  month  of  August  another  festivity  drew  many  from  Nazareth  to 
Jerusalem.  In  the  middle  of  that  month  the  wood  for  the  Temple,  which 
all  Jews  had  to  contribute,  was  taken  to  the  capital  with  great  rejoicings. 
The  1st  of  October,  which  was  celebrated  as  I^ew  Year's  Day,  or  the  Feast 
of  Trumpets,  was  the  nest  event  in  the  religious  calendar  of  the  months. 
As  the  day  of  the  first  new  moon  of  the  year,  it  was  ushered  in,  over  the 
land,  by  a  blast  of  trumpets,  and  special  sacrifices  were  offered  in  Jeru- 
salem. ISTo  work  was  done.  It  was  the  day,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jew,  on 
which  an  accoimt  was  taken  by  God  of  the  acts  of  the  past  year ;  the  day  of 
judgment,  on  which  the  destiny  of  every  one  for  the  coming  year  was 
written  in  the  Heavenly  books.  It  was  a  fast,  therefore,  rather  than  a 
festival.  The  synagogues  were  visited  earlier  thaii  usual  for  a  week  before 
it ;  special  prayers  were  offered,  and  no  one  ate  till  mid-day  or  even  till 
sunset.  In  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth,  as  elsewhere,  its  eve  was  like  that 
of  a  Sabbath.  It  must  have  been  a  great  event  in  a  household  like  that  of 
Joseph. 

The  eight  days  that  followed  were  the  Jewish  Lent,  in  prejoaratlon  for 
the  Day  of  Atonement,  a  time  so  solemn  and  sacred  that  it  was  known  as 
THE  BAY.  It  was  a  Sabbath  of  Sabbaths  :  a  day  of  entire  rest.  The  entire 
people  fasted  during  the  twenty-four  hours.  Worldly  and  household  affairs 
were  neglected ;  no  one  even  bathed.  The  whole  day  was  spent  in  the 
synagogue,  where  each  stood  wi'apped  in  the  white  shroud,  and  wearing 
the  white  cap,  in  which  he  was  hereafter  to  be  buried.  As  was  befitting, 
all  disputes  between  friends  and  neighbours  were  required  to  be  settled 
before  it  besan.  Each  made  a  formal  confession  of  his  sins  before  God,  in 
words  duly  prescribed.    It  was  the  most  solemn  day  of  the  Jewish  year. 

In  the  Temple  the  high  priest  alone  officiated.  Jesus  would  early  hear 
how,  for  seven  days  before,  he  had  gone  through  daily  rehearsals  of  every 
rite,  for  fear  of  his  introducing  Sadducean  innovations,  and  had  been 
cleansed  by  sprinklings  of  holy  water.  He  would  hear  how  the  night 
before  the  great  day  was  spent  in  reading  to  him,  or  hearing  him  read 
aloud,  to  keep  him  awake,  for  he  must  not  sleep  till  after  next  sunset. 
How  must  He  have  felt  the  puerility  of  Kabbinism  when  He  learned  that 


EARLY  YEARS.  151 

the  supreme  pontiff  of  the  nation  had  to  change  his  dress,  on  the  gi-eat  day, 
sis  times,  to  wash  his  hands  and  feet  eight  times,  and  to  bathe  his  Avhole 
body  five  times,  between  dawn  and  sunset !  The  high  priest  entered  the 
Holy  of  Holies  four  times,  to  offer  incense,  to  pray,  to  sprinkle  the  blood  of 
a  goat  towards  the  mercy  seat  ;  and,  at  the  close,  to  bring  out  the  censer. 
Jesus  must  often  have  seen  him,  clad  in  white,  his  golden  robes  laid  aside, 
with  bare  feet  and  covered  head,  drawing  aside  the  veil,  and  passing  alone 
into  the  awful  darkness  which  no  one  but  he  ever  invaded,  and  he  only  on 
this  one  day  of  the  year.  Eites  so  countless  and  intricate  that  even  the 
historian  of  Judaism  will  not  attempt  to  recount  them  :  the  services  of 
hundreds  of  priests,  the  whole  culminating  in  a  threefold  confession  of  sin 
for  the  nation  :  the  utterance  ten  times  of  the  mysterious  name  of  God,  and 
the  formal  absolution  of  Israel  with  the  sprinkling  of  blood :  the  vast  con- 
gregation of  worshippers  prostrating  themselves  on  the  earth  three  times, 
with  the  cry,  "  Blessed  be  His  glorious  name  for  ever,"  at  each  utterance 
of  the  awful  name,  the  high  priest  responding  after  each  shout,  "  Ye  are 
clean ! "  were  all  seen  and  watched,  again  and  again,  by  the  future 
Saviour. 

These  high  solemnities  over,  the  day  ended  in  a  reaction  natural  to  the 
Bast.  No  sooner  had  the  exhausted  high  priest  left  the  Temple,  accom- 
panied by  throngs,  to  congratulate  him  on  his  safety,  than  a  religious  feast 
began  at  Jerusalem,  and,  we  may  be  sure,  over  all  the  land.  The  gardens 
below  Mount  Zion,  and  round  the  walls,  were  gay  with  the  maidens  of  the 
city,  dressed  in  white,  gone  to  meet  the  youths,  who  were  to  choose  their 
future  wives,  that  evening,  from  among  them. 

Five  days  later  came  the  closing  great  feast  of  the  year — that  of  Taber- 
nacles, with  its  rejoicings — one  of  the  three  great  annual  festivals  at  which 
every  Israelite  was  required,  if  possible,  to  make  a  jom^ney  to  Jerusalem. 
It  celebrated  the  Forty  Years'  Wandering  in  tents,  but  it  was  also  the 
great  harvest  thanksgiving  for  the  fruits  of  the  year,  now  fully  gathered. 
Like  others,  Jesus,  doubtless,  often  lived  for  the  week,  at  least  by  day,  in 
booths  of  living  twigs,  which  rose  in  every  court,  on  every  roof,  and  in  the 
streets  and  open  places  of  Jerusalem,— and  watched  the  crowds  bearing 
offerings  of  the  best  of  their  fruit  to  the  Temple  :  each  carrying  a  palm  or 
citron  branch  as  a  sign  of  joy.  The  merry  feasting  in  every  house  :  the 
illuminated  city  :  the  universal  joy,  were  familiar  to  Him. 

Tlic  25th  of  Kislew — our  December — commemorated  the  re-opening  of 
the  Temple  by  Judas  Maccabasus,  after  its  profanation  by  the  Syrians.  It 
brought  another  week  of  universal  rejoicings.  All  through  the  land  the 
people  assembled  in  their  synagogues,  carrying  branches  of  palm  and 
other  trees  in  their  hands,  and  held  jubilant  services.  No  fast  or  mourn- 
ing could  commence  during  the  feast,  and  a  blaze  of  lamps,  lanterns,  and 
torches  illuminated  every  house,  within  and  without,  each  evening.  In 
Jerusalem  the  Temple  itself  was  thus  lighted  up.  The  young  of  every 
household  heard  the  stirring  deeds  of  the  Maccabees,  to  rouse  them  to 
noble  emulation,  and  with  these  were  linked  the  story  of  the  heroic  Judith 
and  the  Assyrian  Holofernes.  There  was  no  child  in  Nazareth  that  did 
not  know  them. 


152  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

The  Feast  of  Piirim  brightened  the  interval  between  that  of  Tabernacles 
and  the Tassover.  It  was  held  on  the  llth  and  15th  Adar — jiart  of  our 
February  and  March —  to  embody  the  national  joy  at  the  deliverance,  by 
Esther,  of  their  forefathers  in  Persia,  from  the  designs  of  Haman.  The 
whole  book  of  Esther  was  read  at  the  synagogue  service  of  the  evening 
before,  to  keei3  the  memory  of  the  great  event  alive ;  the  children  raising 
their  loudest  and  angriest  cries  at  every  mention  of  the  name  of  Haman ; 
the  congregation  stamping  on  the  floor,  with  Eastern  demonstrativeness, 
and  imprecating,  from  every  voice,  the  curse,  "  Let  his  name  be  blotted 
out.  The  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot."  Year  by  year,  in  the  Nazareth 
synagogue,  Jesus  must  have  seen  and  heard  all  this,  and  how  the  Eeader 
tried  to  read  in  one  breath,  the  verses  in  which  Haman  and  his  sons  are 
jointly  mentioned,  to  show  that  they  were  hanged  together. 

Such  was  the  Jewish  religious  year,  with  its  fifty -nine  feast  days  and  its 
background  of  fastings,  as  it  jiassed  before  the  eyes  of  Jesus.  Each  incident 
had  its  special  religious  colouring,  and  the  aggregate  influence,  constantly 
recurring,  impressed  itself  in  a  thousand  ways,  on  the  national  Janguage, 
thoughts,  and  life.  Religion  and  politics,  moreover,  are  identical  in  a 
theocracy,  and  thus  the  two  principles  which  most  powerfully  move  man- 
kind constantly  agitated  every  breast.  In  such  an  atmosjihcre  Christ 
sjoent  His  whole  earthly  life. 

But  neither  the  synagogue  services,  nor  the  feasts  at  Jerusalem,  which 
the  Galilcean  delighted  to  attend,  were  the  supreme  influences,  humanly 
speaking,  in  the  growth  of  Jesus  in  "  wisdom."  Like  the  teaching  of  the 
Eabbis,  they  were  only  so  many  aids  to  the  understanding  of  that  sacred 
book,  in  which  His  heavenly  Father  had  revealed  Himself  to  Israel.  The 
Gospels  show,  in  every  page,  that,  like  Timothy,  Jesus,  from  a  child,  knew 
"  theJEol^  Scriptures."  In  such  a  household  as  that  of  Joseph,  we  may  be 
sure  that  they  were  in  daily  use,  for  there,  if  anywhere,  the  Rabbinical  rule 
would  be  strictly  observed,  that  "  three  who  eat  together  without  talking 
of  the  Law,  are  as  if  they  were  eating  (heathen)  sacrifices."  (The  directness, 
joy,  and  naturalness  of  Christ's  religion  speak  of  the  unconstrained  and 
holy  influences  around  Him  in  early  years.  A  wise  and  tender  guidance 
in  the  things  of  God,  leading  the  way  to  heaven,  as  well  as  pointing  it  out, 
must  have  marked  both  Mary  and  Joseph.  The  fond  pictures  of  home 
and  childhood  in  the  Gospels,  speak  of  i^ersonal  recollections.  The  allu- 
sions to  the  innocent  playing  of  children ;  to  their  being  nearest  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven  ;  the  picture  of  a  father  powerless  against  his  child's 
entreaty  ;  and  that  touching  outburst  at  His  own  homelessness,  compared 
even  with  the  birds  and  tlie  foxes,  show  how  Christ's  mind  went  back, 
through  life,  to  the  pure  and  happy  memories  of  Nazareth. 

Maiy  and  Josejoh,  we  can  scarcely  doubt,  were,  themselves,  the  earliest 
teachers  of  Jesus,  At  their  knees  He  must  have  first  learned  to  read  the 
Scriptures.  Pious  Jewish  parents  took  especial  care  to  have  a  manuscript 
of  the  Law,  in  the  old  Hebrew  characters,  as  their  especial  domestic 
treasure.  Even  so  early  as  the  Asmonean  kings,  such  rolls  were  so 
common  in  jarivate  houses,  that  the  fury  of  the  Syrian  king,  who  wished  to 
introduce  the  Greek  customs  and  religion,  was  especially  directed  against 


EAELY   YEAES.  153 

them.  In  Josejoh's  day,  the  Supreme  influence  of  the  Rabbis  and  Phari- 
sees must  liave  deepened  into  a  passion  the  desire  to  possess  such  a  symbol 
of  loyahy  to  the  faith  of  Israel.  Richer  families  would  have  a  comiolete 
copy  of  the  Old  Testament,  on  parchment,  or  on  Egy]Dtian  papyi'us ; 
humbler  homes  would  boast  a  copy  of  the  Law,  or  a  Psalter,  and  all,  alike, 
gloried  in  the  verses  on  their  door-posts  and  in  their  phjdacteries.  Chil- 
dren had  small  rolls,  containing  the  Sch'ma,  or  the  Hallel,  or  the  history 
of  Creation  to  the  flood,  or  the  first  eight  chapters  of  Leviticus. 

From  the  modest  but  priceless  instructions  of  home,  Jesus  would, 
doubtless,  pass  to  the  school  in  the  synagogue,  where  He  would  learn  more 
of  the  Law,  and  be  taught  to  write,  or  rather,  to  jarint, — for  His  writing 
would  be  in  the  old  Hebrew  characters — the  only  ones  then  in  use. 

His  deep  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  shows'  itself  throughout  the 
Gospels.  He  has  a  quotation  ready  to  meet  every  hostile  question.  It 
was  so  profound  that  it  forced  even  His  enemies  to  recognise  Him  as  a 
Rabbi.  His  frequent  retort  on  the  Rabbis  themselves — "Have  ye  not 
read  ?  "  and  the  deep  insight  into  the  spirit  of  Scripture,  which  opposes  to 
rubrics  and  forms  the  quickening  power  of  a  higher  life,  2:)rove  how  in- 
tensely He  must  have  studied  the  sacred  books,  and  that  the  zeal  that 
drew  Him,  in  His  boyhood,  to  the  Temple  school  at  Jerusalem,  to  hear 
them  exjilained,  was  the  sacred  passion  of  His  life.  In  the  Gospels  we 
find  two  quotations  from  Genesis,  two  from  Exodus,  one  from  Numbers, 
two  from  Deuteronomy,  seven  from  the  Psalms,  five  from  Isaiah,  one  from 
Hosea^  one  from  Jonah,  two  from  Malachi,  two  from  Daniel,  one  from 
Micah,  and  one  from  Zechariah,  respectively.  The  whole  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment was  as  familiar  to  Him  as  the  Magnificat  shows  it  to  have  been  to 
His  mother,  Mary.  It  was  from  the  clear  fountain  of  the  ancient  oracles 
His  childhood  drank  in  the  wisdom  that  cometh  from  above.  They  had 
been  His  only  school-book,  and  they  were  the  unwearying  joy  of  His  whole 
life.  From  them  He  taught  the  higher  spiritual  worship  which  contrasted 
so  strongly  with  the  worship  of  the  letter.  It  was  to  them  He  appealed 
when  He  rejected  what  was  worthless  and  trifling  in  the  religious  teaching 
of  His  day. 

The  long  years  of  retired  and  humble  life  in  Nazareth  were  passed  in  no 
ignoble  idleness  and  dependence.  The  people  of  the  town  knew  Jesus  as, 
like  Joseph,  a  carpenter,  labouring  for  His  daily  bread  at  the  occui^ations 
which  offered  themselves  in  His  calling.  Study  and  handiwork  were 
familiarly  associated  in  the  Jewish  mind,  and  carried  with  them  no  such 
ideas  of  incompatibility  as  with  us.  "  Love  handiwork,"  said  Shemaia,  a 
teacher  of  Hillel,  and  it  was  a  proverbial  saying  in  the  family  of  Gamaliel, 
that  to  unite  the  study  of  the  Law  with  a  trade  kept  away  sin,  whereas 
study  alone  was  dangerous  and  disappointing.  Rabbis  who  gave  a  third 
of  the  day  to  study,  a  third  to  prayer,  and  a  third  to  labour,  are  mentioned 
with  special  honour.  Stories  were  fondly  told  of  famous  teachers  carrying 
their  work-stools  to  their  schools,  and  how  Rabbi  Phinehas  was  working 
as  a  mason  when  chosen  as  high-priest.  Of  the  Rabbis  in  honour  in 
Christ's  day  or  later,  some  were  millers,  others  carpenters,  cobblers,  tailors, 
bakers,  surgeons,  builders,  surveyors,  money-changers,  scribes,  carriers. 


15-1  TIIE   LIFE    OF   OIIRIST. 

smkhs,  and  evoii  sextons.  lu  a  nation  Avhorc  uo  toacliov  conlil  receive 
payment  foi*  Ins  instructions  tlic  honest  industry  wlucli  gained  self-support 
brought  no  false  sliaiuo. 

The  years  at  Nazareth  must  have  been  diligently  used  in  the  observation 
of  the_great_bpok  of  nature,  and  of  man,  as  aycII  as  of  written  revelation. 
The  Gospels  sIiott,  throughout,  that  nothing  escaped  the  ej'^e  of  Jesus. 
The  lilies  and  the  grass  of  the  field,  as  lie  paints  them  in  the  Sermon  on 
the  j\rouut :  the  hen,  as  it  gathers  its  young,  in  its  mother's  love,  under  its 
widespread  Avings;  tlie  birds  of  the  air,  as  they  eat  and  driivlc,  Avithout 
cnro,  from  the  bounty  avonnd  them ;  the  lambs  which  run  to  follow  the 
shepherd,  but  sometimes  go  astray  and  are  lost  in  the  wilderness ;  the 
dogs  so  familiar  in  Eastern  cities  ;  the  foxes  that  make  their  holes  in  the 
thickets ;  the  silent  plants  and  llowors,  the  humble  life  of  the  creatm-es  of 
the  woods,  the  air,  the  fold,  and  the  street,  were  all,  alike,  noticed  in  these 
early  years  of  preiiaration.  Nor  was  man  neglected.  The  sports  of  child- 
hood; the  rejoicings  of  riper  life;  the  bride  and  the  bridegroom;  the 
mourner  and  the  dead ;  the  castles  and  palaces  of  princes,  and  the  silken 
robes  of  the  great ;  the  rich  owners  of  field  and  vincj^ard ;  the  steward, 
the  travelling  merchant,  the  beggar,  the  debtor  ;  the  toil  of  the  sower  and 
of  the  labourer  in  the  vinej^ard,  or  of  the  fisher  on  the  lake;  the  sweat  of 
the  worker ;  the  sighs  of  those  in  chains,  or  in  the  dungeon,  were  seen,  and 
heard,  and  remembered.  Nor  did  He  rest  merely  in  sujoerficial  observation. 
The  possessions,  joj^s,  and  sufferings  of  men,  their  words  and  acts,  their 
customs,  their  pride  or  humility,  pretence  or  sincerity,  failings  or  merits, 
were  treasured  as  materials  from  Avhich,  one  day,  to  paint  them  to  them- 
selves. He  had,  moreover,  the  same  keen  eye  to  note  the  good  in  those 
round  Him  as  their  unworthy  striving  and  planning,  their  avarice,  ambi- 
tion, passion,  or  sellishness.  It  is,  indeed,  the  noblest  characteristic  in  this 
constant  keen-siglitedness,  that  amidst  all  the  imperfections  and  faults 
prerailing,  He  never  failed  to  evoke  the  hidden  good  which  He  often  saw 
even  in  the  most  hopeless. 

Publicans  and  sinners  were  not  rejected.  Even  in  them  He  discovered 
a  better  self.  In  Zacchens  He  sees  a  son  of  Abraham ;  in  Mary  Mag- 
dalene He  gains  a  w'ceping  penitent,  and  in  the  dj-ing  robber  He  welcomes 
back  a  returning  prodigal.  Nor  was  it  mere  intellectual  penetration  that 
thus  laid  bare  the  secrets  of  every  heart.  His  search  of  the  bosom  is  per- 
vaded throughout  with  the  breath  of  the  warmest  love.  As  the  brother 
and  friend  of  all,  who  has  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost, 
He  looks  at  men  with  ej'es  of  infinite  pity,  whatever  their  race. 

The  life  of  Nazareth,  in  its  quiet  and  obscurity,  is  passed  over  in  a  few 
lines  by  the  Evangelists;  but  in  the  counsels  of  God  it  had  its  full  aud 
all-wise  ptu'pose,  from  first  to  last,  as  a  prejiaration  for  the  great  work  of 
the  closing  years  of  our  Lord's  life.  We  cannot  conceive  of  Him  otherwise 
than  as  furnished  from  His  first  appearance  in  the  world  with  all  that  was 
needful  in  its  Saviour:  as  the  incarnation  of  the  divine  Word,  thouirh  for 
a  time  silent;  the  Light  which  should  shine  in  darkness,  though  still,  for 
a  time,  concealed.  He  must  have  been  marked  out  from  all  around  Him 
by  His  higher  spiritual  nature,  and  separated  by  it  from  all  fellowship 


LIFE   TNDEE   THE   LAW.  l5o 

with  evil.  Yet,  in  His  human  nature,  there  must  have  been  the  same 
gradual  dovelopmc-nt  as  in  other  men ;  such  a  development  as,  by  its  even 
and  steadfast  advance,  made  His  life  apparently  in  nothing  different  from 
that  of  His  fellow  townsmen,  else  they  would  not  have  felt  the  wonder  at 
Him  which  they  afterwards  evinced.  The  laws  and  processes  of  ordinary 
human  life  must  have  been  left  to  mould  and  form  His  manhood— the 
same  habits  of  inquiry;  the  same  need  of  the  collision  of  mind  with  mind; 
of  patience  during  long  expectation ;  of  reconciliation  to  home  duties  and 
daily  self-denials;  of  calm  strength  that  leans  only  upon  God.  He  must 
have  looked  out  on  the  world  of  men  from  the  calm  retreat  of  those  years 
as  He,  doubtless,  often  did  on  the  matchless  landscape  from  the  hill  above 
the  village.  The  strength  and  weakness  of  the  systems  of  the  day ;  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  the  human  world,  would  be  watched  and  noted  with 
never-tiring  survey,  as  were  the  hills  and  valleys,  the  clouds  and  sunshine 
of  the  scene  around.  Year  after  year  passed,  and  still  found  Him  at  His 
daily  toil,  because  His  hour  was  not  yet  come.  In  gentle  patience,  in 
transparent  blamelessness  of  life  ;  in  natural  and  ever-active  goodness ;  in 
tender  love  and  rc-ady  favour  to  all  around;  loved,  honoured,  but  half 
veiled  in  the  mysterious  light  of  perfect  manhood  and  kindling  divinity, 
thirty  years  passed  quietly  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LIFE   UNDEK  THE   LAW. 

BESIDES  the  humbler  schools  of  the  towns  and  villages,  there  were 
others  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  some  of  the  larger  centres  of  population, 
in  the  days  of  Christ,  in  which  a  higher  education  was  given  by  the  Kabbis 
— tlie  learned  class  of  the  nation.  There  was  notliing,  however,  to  attract 
Jesus  to  such  schools,  though  He  had  been  so  eager  in  His  attendance 
during  His  first  brief  visit  to  Jerusalem.  It  may  be  that  even  so  short  a 
trial  v/as  enough  to  show  Ilim  how  little  could  be  gained  from  them. 

The  wonderful  revival  of  Judaism  under  Ezra  and  his  associates  had 
had  the  most  lasting  effect  on  the  nation.  An  order  known,  indifferently, 
as  "  Scribes,"  "  Teachers  of  the  Law,"  or  "  Rabbis,"  gradually  rose,  who 
devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of  the  Law  exclusively,  and  became  the 
recognised  authorities  in  all  matters  connected  with  it.  It  had  been  a 
command  of  the  Great  Synagogue  that  those  who  were  learned  in  the  Law 
should  zealously  teach  it  to  younger  men,  and,  thus,  schools  rose  erelong 
in  which  famous  Rabbis  gathered  large  numbers  of  students.  Tlie  supreme 
distinction  accorded  to  the  Rabbi  in  society  at  large,  in  which  he  was  by 
far  the  foremost  personage :  the  exaggerated  reverence  claimed  for  his 
office  by  his  order  itself,  and  sanctioned  by  the  superstitious  homage  of 
the  people;  the  constant  necessity  for  reference  to  its  members,  under  a 
religion  which  prescribed  rules  for  every  detail  of  social  or  private  life, 
and,  not  least,  the  fact  that  the  dignity  of  a  Raljbi  was  open  to  the 
humblest  who  acquired  the  necessary  learning,  made  the  schools  very 


156  THE   LIFE    OF   CHIIIST. 

popular.  As  the  son  of  a  peasant,  in  the  middle  ages,  if  he  entered  the 
Church,  might  rise  above  the  haughtiest  noble,  the  son  of  a  Jewish  villager 
might  rise  above  even  the  high  priest,  by  becoming  a  Eabbi.  It  was, 
doubtless,  remembered,  in  Christ's  day,  that  some  sixty  years  before,  when 
the  high  priest  had  been  returning  from  the  Temple  after  the  service  of 
the  Day  of  Atonement,  attended,  according  to  custom,  by  a  crowd,  to 
congratulate  him  on  his  having  come  safely  from  the  terrors  of  the  Awful 
Presence,  and  to  escort  him  to  his  dwelling — two  Eabbis  having  chanced 
to  pass  by,  the  people  left  the  high  priest,  greatly  to  his  indignation,  and 
paid  reverence,  instead,  to  the  Teachers  of  the  Law.  The  most  abject 
prostration  of  intellect  and  soul  before  any  priesthood  never  sin-passed 
that  of  the  Jew  before  the  Eabbi. 

From  their  scholars  the  Eabbis  demanded  the  most  profound  reverence. 
"  The  honour,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  due  to  a  teacher  borders  on  that  due  to 
God."  If  a  choice  were  necessary  between  one's  father  and  a  Eabbi,  the 
Eabbi  must  have  the  preference.  A  father  has  only  brought  him  into  the 
world,  but  the  Eabbi,  who  teaches  him  wisdom,  brings  him  to  the  life 
hereafter.  If  one's  father  and  a  Eabbi  be  carrying  burdens,  the  Ijurden  of 
the  Eabbi  must  be  carried  for  him,  and  not  that  of  the  father.  If  one's 
father  and  a  Eabbi  be  both  in  prison,  the  Eabbi  must  first  be  redeemed, 
and  only  then,  the  father.  The  common  discourse  of  a  Eabbi  was  to  be 
reverenced  as  much  as  the  Law.  To  dispute  with  one,  or  murmur  against 
liim,  was  a  crime  as  great  as  to  do  the  same  towards  the  Almighty.  Their 
words  mxTst  be  received  as  words  of  the  living  God.  As  in  the  blind 
passive  obedience  required  fi-om  the  Jesuits,  a  scholar  of  the  Eabbis  was 
required  to  accejit  what  his  master  taught,  if  he  said  that  the  left  hand 
was  the  right.  A  scholar  who  did  not  rise  uji  before  his  Eabbi  could  not 
hope  to  live  long,  because  "  he  feareth  not  before  God."  It  was  a  principle 
nniversally  accepted  that  "  the  sayings  of  the  Scribes  were  weightier  than 
those  of  the  Law." 

The  transmission  of  the  as  yet  unwritten  ojainions  of  former  Eabbis — 
forming  an  ever-growing  mass  of  tradition — was  the  special  aim  of  the 
Eabbis  of  each  ago.  In  the  course  of  centuries  many  of  the  Mosaic  laws 
had  became  inapplicable  to  the  altered  state  of  things,  and  as  their  literal 
observance  had  become  impossible,  new  prescriptions  began  to  be  invented, 
after  the  Eeturn,  to  perpetuate  their  spirit.  Many  were  virtually  obso- 
lete :  others  required  careful  exposition  by  the  Eabbis.  The  comments 
thus  delivered  formed,  as  time  rolled  on,  a  great  body  of  unwritten  law, 
which  claimed  equal  authority  with  the  law  of  Moses,  and  was  necessarily 
known  in  any  full  degree  only  by  the  professional  Eabbis,  who  devoted 
their  lives  to  its  study.  It  might  be  increased,  but  could  never  be  altered 
or  superseded  in  any  particular.  Once  uttered,  a  Eabbi's  words  remained 
law  for  ever,  though  they  might  be  explained  away  and  virtually  ignored, 
while  affected  to  be  followed. 

Uniformity  of  belief  and  ritual  practice  was  the  one  grand  design  of  the 
founders  of  Judaism ;  the  moulding  the  whole  religious  life  of  the  nation 
to  such  a  machine-like  discipline  as  would  make  any  variation  from  the 
customs  of  the  past  well-nigh  impossible.      A  universal,  death-like  con- 


LIFE   UNDER   THE   LAW.  157 

scrvaHom,  pcrmitLing  no  change  in  snccessive  ages,  was  established,  as 
the  grand  secnrity  for  a  separate  national  existence,  by  its  isolating  the 
Jew  from  all  other  races,  and  keeping  him  for  ever  apart.  For  this  end, 
not  only  was  that  part  of  the  Law  which  concerned  the  common  life  of  the 
people— their  Sabbaths,  feast  days,  jubilees,  offerings,  sacrifices,  tithes,  the 
Temple  and  Synagogue  worship,  civil  and  criminal  law,  mai'riage,  and  the 
like — explained,  commented  on,  and  minutely  ordered  by  the  Eabbis,  but 
also  that  portion  of  it  which  related  only  to  the  private  duties  of  individuals 
in  their  daily  religious  life.  Their  food,  their  clothes,  their  journeys,  their 
occupations  :  indeed,  every  act  of  their  lives,  and  almost  their  every 
thought,  were  brought  under  Eabbinical  rules.  To  perj^etuate  the  Law,  a 
"hedge"  of  outlying  commands  was  set  round  it,  which,  in  Christ's  day, 
had  become  so  "  heavy  and  grievous  a  burden,"  that  even  the  Talmud 
denounces  it  as  a  vexatious  oppression.  So  vast  had  the  accumulation  of 
precepts  become,  by  an  endless  series  of  refined  deductions  from  the  Scrip- 
tures— often  connected  with  them  only  by  a  very  thin  thread  at  best — that 
the  Eabbis  themselves  have  comj^ared  their  laws  on  the  proper  keeping  of 
the  Sabbath  to  a  mountain  which  hangs  on  a  hair. 

In  the  later  Grecian  age,  when  heathen  culture  was  patronized  by  the 
Sadducean  high  priests,  and  foreign  customs  were  in  increasing  favour  with 
the  people,  the  Eabbis,  who  were  the  zealots  or  puritans  of  Judaism, 
sought  to  stem  the  flood  of  corruption,  by  enforcing  increased  strictness  in 
the  observance  of  the  multitudinous  precepts  they  had  already  established. 
From  that  time  unconditional  obedience  was  required  to  every  Eabbinical 
law. 

A  system  which  admitted  no  change  :  in  which  the  least  originality  of 
thought  was  heresy  :  which  required  the  mechanical  labour  of  a  lifetime  to 
master  its  details,  and  which  occupied  its  teachers  with  the  most  trifling 
casuistry,  could  have  only  one  result — to  degenerate,  to  a  great  extent,  into 
puerilities  and  outward  forms. 

It  would  be  wearisome  and  uninteresting  to  quote,  at  any  great  length, 
illustrations  of  the  working  of  such  a  scheme  of  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  in 
daily  life,  but  an  example  or  two  will  show  the  system  to  which  Jesus 
opposed  the  freedom  of  a  spiritual  religion.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  the 
condition  of  a  people  who  had  submitted  to  such  mental  and  bodily 
bondage. 

One  of  the  great  questions  discussed  by  the  Eabbis  was  ceremonial 
purity  and  defilement,  a  subject  so  wide  that  it  gave  rise  to  countless  rules. 
Uncleanness  could  be  contracted  in  many  waj-s  ;  among  others,  by  the 
vessels  used  in  eating,  and  hence  it  was  a  vital  matter  to  know  what  might 
be  used,  and  what  must  be  avoided.  In  hollow  dishes  of  clay  or  pottery, 
the  inside  and  bottom  contracted  and  caused  uncleanness,  but  not  the  out- 
side, and  they  could  only  be  cleansed  by  breaking.  The  pieces,  however, 
might  still  defile,  and  hence  it  was  keenly  discussed  how  small  the  frag- 
ments must  be  to  ensure  safety.  If  a  dish  or  vessel  had  contained  a  log  of 
oil,  a  fragment  could  still  defile  that  held  as  much  oil  as  would  anoint  the 
great  toe ;  if  it  had  held  from  a  log  to  a  seah,  the  fragment,  to  be  danger- 
ous, must  hold  the  fourth  of  a  log ;  if  it  had  held  from  two  or  three  seahs 


158  THE   LIFE   01^   CHBIST. 

to  five,  a  piece  of  it  could  defile  if  it  lield  a  log.  As,  however,  hollow 
earthen  vessels  contracted  !uncleanness  on\y  on  the  inside,  not  on  the  out, 
some  could  not  become  unclean — as,  for  instance,  a  flat  plate  without  a 
rim,  an  open  coal  shovel,  a  perforated  roaster  for  wheat  or  grain,  brick- 
moulds,  and  so  on.  On  the  other  hand,  a  plate  with  a  rim,  a  covered  coal 
shovel,  a  dish  with  raised  divisions  inside,  an  earthen  spice-box,  or  an 
inkstand  with  any  divisions,  may  become  imclean.  Flat  dishes  of  wood, 
leather,  bone,  or  glass,  do  not  contract  uncleanness,  but  hollow  ones  might 
do  so,  not  only  like  earthen  ones,  inside,  but  also  outside.  If  they  are 
broken  they  are  clean,  but  the  broken  part  is  unclean  if  large  enough  to 
hold  a  pomegranate.  If  a  chest,  or  clipboard,  wants  a  foot,  it  is  clean, 
whatever  its  size,  and  a  three-footed  table,  wanting  even  two  feet,  is  clean, 
but  it  may  be  made  unclean  if  wanting  the  whole  three  feet,  and  the  flat 
top  be  used  as  a  dish.  A  bench  which  wants  one  of  the  side  boards,  or 
even  the  two,  is  clean,  but  if  a  piece  remain  a  haudbreadth  wide,  it  may 
defile.  If  the  liands  are  clean,  and  the  outside  of  a  goblet  unclean,  the 
hands  are  not  defiled  by  the  outside,  if  the  goblet  be  held  by  the  jiroper 
part.  Every  thing  of  metal,  that  has  a  special  name,  may  defile,  excej^t  a 
door,  a  door  bolt,  a  lock,  a  hinge,  or  a  door  knocker.  Straight  blowing 
horns  are  clean ;  others  may  defile.     If  the  mouthpiece  is  of  metal,  it  may 

/      defile.     If  a  wooden  key  have  metal  teeth,  it  may  defile,  but  if  the  key  be 

I      of  metal  and  the  teeth  of  wood,  it  is  clean. 

The  removal  of  uncleanness  was  no  less  complicated.  Even  the  kind 
of  water  to  be  used  for  the  different  kinds  of  cleansing,  for  sprinkling  the 
hands,  for  dipping  vessels  into,  aiid  for  purifying  Ijaths  for  the  person, 
caused  no  little  dispute.     Six  kinds  of  water  were  distinguished,  each  of 

/  higher  worth  than  the  other.  First — A  pool,  or  the  water  in  a  pit,  cistern, 
or  ditch,  and  hill  water  that  no  longer  flows,  and  collected  water,  of  not 
less  quantity  than  forty  scabs,  if  it  has^not  been  defiled,  is  suitable  for  pre- 
paring the  heave-offering  of  dough,  or  for  the  legal  washing  of  the  hands. 

2_     Second — Water  that  still  flows  may  be  used  for  the  heave-offering  (Teruma), 

^  and  for  washing  the  hands.  Third — Collected  water,  to  the  amount  of 
forty  seahs,  may  be  used  for  a  bath   for  purification,  and  for   dipping 

A  vessels  into.  Fourth — A  spring  with  little  water,  to  which  water  that  has 
been  drawn  is  added,  is  fit  for  a  bath,  though  it  do  not  flow,  and  is  the 
same  as  pure  spring  water,  in  so  far  that  vessels  may  be  cleansed  in  it, 

6'  though  there  be  only  a  little  water.    Fifth — Flowing  water  which  is  warm, 
^    or  impregnated  with  minerals,  cleanses  by  its  flowing ;   and  lastly,  sixth — 
Pure  spring  water  may  be  used  as  a  bath  by  those  who  have  sores,  or  for 
sprinkling  a  leper,  and  may  be  mixed  with  the  ashes  of  purification. 

These  general  principles  formed  the  basis  of  an  endless  detail  of  casu- 
istry. Thus,  the  Mischna  discourses,  at  wearisome  length,  under  what 
circumstances  and  conditions  "  collected  water  " — that  is,  rain,  spring,  or 
flowing  water,  that  is  not  drawn,  but  is  led  into  a  reservoir  directly,  by 
pipes  or  channels— may  be  used  for  bathing,  and  for  the  immersion  of 
vessels  ;  and  the  great  point  is  decided  to  be  that  no  drawn  water  shall  have 
mixed  with  it.  A  fourth  of  a  log  of  drawn  water  in  the  reservoir,  before- 
hand, makes  the  water  that  afterwards  falls  or  runs  into  it  unfit  for  a  bath, 


J 


LIFE   UNDEH   THE   LAW.  159 

but  it  requires  tliree  log  of  drawn  water  to  do  tliis,  if  tlicrc  were  Avatcr 
already  in  tlic  reservoir.  If  any  vessels  are  put  nndcr  the  pipe  emptying 
itself  in  the  bath,  it  becomes  drawn  water,  and  is  unfit  for  a  bath.  Sham- 
mai's  school  made  it  the  same  whether  tlie  vessel  were  set  down  on 
purpose,  or  only  forgotten  ;  but  Ilillcrs  school  decided  that  if  it  had  been 
forgotten,  the  water  might  still  be  used  for  a  bath.  If  drawn  water 
and  rain  water  have  mixed,  in  the  court-yard,  or  in  a  hollow,  or  on  the 
steps  of  the  bath-room,  the  bath  may  be  used,  if  most  of  the  water  bo 
fitting,  but  not  if  the  proportion  bo  reserved.  This,  however,  only  takes 
effect  if  they  have  mixed  before  entering  the  bath.  If  both  flow  into  the 
bath,  the  bath  may  be  taken,  if  it  be  known  certainly  that  forty  seahs  of 
proper  water  ran  in  before  three  log  of  unsuitable  water,  but  otherwise  it 
must  not  be  taken.  There  was  endless  discussion,  also,  whether  snow, 
hail,  hoarfrost,  ice,  and  the  like,  could  be  used  to  fdl  up  a  bath.  So  simple 
an  act  as  the  washing  of  one's  hands  before  eating  entailed  the  utmost 
care  not  to  transgress  some  Eabbinical  rule.  The  Avater  could  only  be 
poured  from  certain  kinds  of  vessels,  it  must  be  water  of  a  special  kind, 
o  ily  certain  persons,  in  certain  legal  conditions,  could  pour  it,  and  it  was  a 
momentous  point  that  the  water  should  be  poured  neither  too  far  up  the 
arm  nor  too  low  towards  the  hand. 

This  ceremonial  slavery  owed  its  rise  to  the  reaction  from  the  Syi'ian 
attempts  to  overthrow  the  national  faith.  The  Eabbis]  of  the  austere  but 
noble  puritan  party,  which  had  delivered  their  couiitry,  sought  to  widen 
the  gulf,  for  the  future,  between  Judaism  and  all  other  creeds,  by  laying  a 
fresh  stress  on  legal  purity  and  the  reverse,  and  their  scholars  strove  to 
keep  their  rules  as  strictly  as  possible.  The  dread  of  touching  anything 
unclean,  and  the  consequent  self-withdrawal  from  the  mass  of  the  people, 
and  from  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life,  soon  showed  itself  in  the  name — 
Pai'ush^  or^  PhaT[see — for  those  thus  "  sepai'ated."  In  the  hands  of  this 
party,  cleanness  and  uncleanness  steadily  grew  to  a  system  of  endless 
refinements. 

Ceremonial  purity  had,  at  first,  been  strictly  observed  only  by  the  priests, 
for  the  people  at  large  were  hardly  in  a  position  to  attend  to  the  many  de- 
tails required.  After  the  Maccab^an  revival,  however,  greater  carefulness 
was  demanded.  A  priest,  or  Lcvite,  lost  the  privileges  of  his  caste  if  he 
hesitated  to  fulfil  any  of  the  ritual  obligations  it  entailed,  and  a  proselyte 
was  rejected  who  would  not  undertake  all  that  was  required  from  an 
Israelite.  For  Israelites  themselves,  these  ceremo]iial  rules  were  greatly 
extended,  and  any  neglect  of  them  was  noted  unfavourably.  The  tithes, 
etc.,  were  strictly  demanded  from  all  produce,  and  were  either  entirely 
forbidden  to  be  eaten,  or  could  be  so  only  under  fixed  conditions,  while  a 
wide  sweep  of  injunctions  and  rules  Vi'^as  introduced  as  to  the  use  of  differ- 
ent kinds  of  food,  and  even  in  every  detail  of  family  life. 

Those,  including,  of  course,  the  Rabbis,  who  undertook  to  observe  all 
these  rules,  henceforth  formed  a  kind  of  union  of  "  Comrades,"  or  "Haber- 
im,"  which  any  one  might  enter — all  who  did  not  join  them  being  stigmat- 
ized as  ignorant  Am-haaretzin,  or  boorish  rabble. 

It  was  to  this  league  that  the   amazing  development  of  legalism  was 


160  THE   LIFE   OF  CHRIST. 

latterly  due,  Careful  inquiry  was  everywliere  instituted  to  ascertain  if  all 
dues  for  i:)riests,  Levites,  or  the  poor  were  regularly  paid.  An  indefinite 
due  (Teruma)  for  tlie  priests,  and  a  tithe  for  them  and  the  Levites,  were 
required  each  year  from  every  kind  of  farm  or  garden  produce,  even  the 
smallest,  and  from  all  live  stock,  and  property,  of  any  kind,  and  a  second 
tenth  each  third  year  for  the  poor.  Nor  were  these  demands  confined  to 
Israelites  living  in  the  strictly  Jewish  territory  ;  they  were,  after  a  time, 
extended  over  those  neighbouring  countries  in  which  Jews  had  settled. 
These  material  results  were  only  a  subordinate  advantage  of  this  widely 
extended  claim ;  it  established  an  organized  system  of  all-pervading  in- 
fluence in  social  intercourse,  and  on  the  private  life  of  every  household. 
Part  of  the  dues  was  Jwly,  and  to  use  anything  holy  was  a  mortal  sin. 
Every  purchaser  had,  therefore,  to  make  certain  beforehand  whether  they 
had  been  paid  from  what  he  proposed  to  buy,  though  many  things  in 
the  markets  came  from  abroad,  or  had  been  grown  or  made  by  others  than 
Jews,  or  were  under  other  complications  as  regarded  their  liability  to 
tithe  and  gift. 

To  save  heavy  loss  it  was  conceded  that  the  Teruma  should  be  strictly 
separated,  but  the  various  tithes  were  apparently  left  to  be  paid  by  the 
buyer,  though  the  assurance  of  an  owner  that  everything  had  been  tithed 
could  only  be  taken  if  the  seller  could  prove  his  trustworthiness.  Failing 
this,  all  produce,  and  whatever  was  made  from  it,  was  regarded  as  doubtful, 
and  the  Teruma,  or  holy  portion,  was  to  be  taken  from  it  before  it  could  be 
used.  The  second  tithe  might  be  turned  into  money,  that  it  might  be  the 
more  easily  consumed  in  Jerusalem.  It  was  not  obligatory,  however,  to 
separate  the  first  tithe,  or  that  for  the  poor,  since  a  doubt  hung  on  the 
matter,  and  so  the  Levite  or  the  poor  must  prove  their  claim.  These 
harassing  regulations  shut  off  strict  Jews  from  either  buying  or  accepting 
hospitality  from  any  but  their  own  nation,  and  made  it  imperative  on 
every  fruit  or  food  seller  to  establish  his  trustworthiness,  by  joining  the 
union  of  the  "  Comrades,"  or  "  Separated"— that  is,  the  "Pharisees."  It 
required  for  this,  only  a  declaration  before  three  of  the  Kabbis,  and  after- 
wards before  three  "trustworthy"  persons,  that  one  would  henceforth 
abstain  from  all  that  had  not  been  tithed.  Henceforth,  not  only  was  per- 
sonal trustworthiness  established,  but  that  'of  all  the  members  of  his 
family,  and  even  of  his  des  cendants,  so  long  as  no  ground  of  suspicion 
was  raised  against  his  wife,  children,  or  slaves. 

The  nation  was  thus  gradually  divided  into  Haberim  and  Am-haaretzin 
—strict  followers  of  the  Rabbis  and  despised  rabble, — and  intercourse  and 
hospitality  between  the  two  classes  became  steadily  more  circumscribed, 
till  it  well-nigh  ceased,  as  the  laws  of  the  Eabbis  grew  more  exacting.  It 
was  difficult,  for  instance,  when  from  home,  to  ascertain  the  conscientious- 
ness of  a  host,  companion,  or  tradesman ;  scruples  rose  whether  produce 
that  might  be  foreign  was  liable  to  dues  ;  how  far  purchases  not  intended 
for  eating  might  be  used  without  tithing,  and  so  on,  till  all  social  freedom 
was  utterly  hampered,  and  cases  of  conscience  accumvilated  which  after- 
wards filled  whole  volumes,  and  meanwhile  gave  constant  anxiety. 

This  self -isolation  from  the  community  at  large  of  the  members  of  the 


LIFE    UNDEE    THE    LAW.  161 

"League  of  the  Law,"  procuvcd  them  the  name  of  Pcrfishim,  or  Pharisees 
— that  is,  the  separated — and  introduced  different  grades  of  purity  even 
among  them,  according  to  tlie  greater  or  less  strictness  in  the  observance 
of  the  multitudinous  Rabbinical  rules.      Religiousness  consisted,  above 
everything,  in  avoiding  ceremonial  defilement,  or  removing  it,  if  at  any 
time  contracted,  by  prescribed  washings  and  bathing.     Rules  for  preserv- 
ing Mosaic  purity  multiplied  the  risks  of  defilement  as  casuistry  increased, 
and  thus  a  graduated  scale  of  "  holiness  "  was  introduced,  rising  to  the 
harshest  asceticism  in  its  highest  develojoment.     To  partake  of  anything 
from  which  the  due  tithes  had  not  been  separated,  or  of  the  tithe  itself, 
or  the  priest's  portion,  the  hands  must  be  washed.     Before  eating  parts 
of  sacrifices  or  offerings,  a  bath  had  to  be  taken,  and  a  plunge  bath  was 
required  before  the  sprinlvling  with  water  of  purification,  even  if  only  the 
hands  were  "  unclean."     But  he  who  bathed  in  order  to  partake  of  what 
was  as  yet  untithed,  had  not  the  riglit  to  make  use  of  the  tithe ;  he  who 
took  a  bath  to  qualify  him  to  enjoy  the  tithe  could  not  touch  the  priest's 
portion;  he  who  could  touch  that,  could  not  eat  what  was  holy,  while  he 
who  might  touch  it,  must  yet  keep  from  water  of  purification.     The  higher 
grades,  on  the  other  hand,  included  the  less  holy.     Even  to  touch  the 
clothes  of  a  "  common  man,"  defiled  a  Pharisee ;  the  clothes  of  an  ordinary 
Pharisee  were  unclean  to  one  who  could  eat  tithes  ;  those  of  an  eater  of 
tithes  to  an  eater  of  offerings ;    and  his,  again,  to  one  who  enjoyed  the 
sprinkling  of  the  water  of  purification.     Some  gained  one  grade,  some 
another,  but  few  the  highest.     A  special  initiation,  training,  and  time  of 
trial  was  required  for  each  grade,  from  thirty  days  for  the  lowest,  to  twelve 
months  for  the  highest. 

Religiousness  was  thus  measured  by  the  more  or  less  complete  observ- 
ance of  ten  thousand  Rabbinical  rules  of  ceremonial  purity,  and  fanatical 
observance  of  them  was  secured,  not  less  by  religious  pride,  than  by  their 
appeal  to  a  spurious  patriotism,  and  to  self-interest.  This  severe  and 
inflexible  discipline,  which  regulated  every  act  of  life,  foresaw  every 
contingency,  and  interfered  with  common  liberty,  at  every  step,  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  had  been  slowly  elaborated  by  the  Rabbis,  to  isolate 
the  Jew  from  all  other  nations.  His  very  words  and  thoughts  were  pre- 
scribed ;  he  was  less  a  man  than  a  mechanical  instrument.  Any  deviation 
in  word  or  deed,  or  even  in  thought,  from  Rabbinical  law,  was  regarded 
as  im2:)ious. 

Theocracies  have  enforced  in  all  ages  a  similar  isolation  on  their  ad- 
herents. "  The  kings  of  Egypt,"  says  Diodorus,  "  could  not  act  as  they 
would.  Everything  was  ruled  by  laws,  not  only  in  their  public,  but  even 
in  their  most  private  life.  The  hours  of  the  day  and  night  at  which  special 
duties  must  be  performed,  were  fixed  by  law.  Those  for  sleep,  for  rising, 
for  bathing,  for  sacrifice,  for  reading,  for  meals,  for  walking,  and  much 
beside,  were  inflexibly  prescribed.  It  was  no  less  rigidly  settled  what 
they  were  to  eat  at  each  meal,  and  what  amount  of  wine  they  were  to 
drink."  The  Brahmin  is  under  the  same  rigid  and  all-embracing  tyranny 
of  religioiTS  forms.  His  Avhole  life  is  covered  with  the  meshes  of  a  vast 
net  of  rites  and  ceremonies.     The  law  of  Maun  prescribes  how  he  is  to  eat, 


162  THE   LIFE    OF   CUEIST. 

and  what,  liow  lie  is  to  clothe  himself,  drink,  wash  his  feet,  cnt  his  nails, 
and  hair,  batho,  and  perform  even  the  most  private  functions.  It  fises 
the  rights  and  duties  of  each  caste  and  subdivision  of  caste,  the  washers, 
the  weavers,  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  etc.  Such  systems  annihilate  individu- 
ality, and  reduce  whole  populations  to  a  single  tj^ie,  which  perpetuates 
itself  with  an  unchanging  and  almost  indestructible  constancy,  begetting, 
besides,  a  fanaticism  which,  at  any  moment,  may  burst  into  flames, 
especially  when  identified,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Jews,  with  patriotism. 
Life  under  the  Jewish  law  had  already  kindled  this  spirit  of  scarcely 
veiled  revolution  long  before  our  Lord's  birth. 

An  additional  illustration  of  the  Avorking  of  Rabbinical  rules  in  Jewish 
daily  life  is  afforded  by  those  for  the  proper  observance  of  the  Sabbath. 
In  Exodus  xvi.  5,  it  is  commanded  that  food  for  the  Sabbath  be  lorejiared 
on  the  sixth  day,  no  doubt  with  the  design  that  the  rest  of  the  servant 
should  be  as  sacred  as  that  of  her  master  or  mistress.  The  Rabbis,  pon- 
dering this  command,  raised  the  question  whether  an  egg  which  a  hen 
had  laid  on  a  Sa,bbath  could  be  eaten  on  the  sacred  day,  and  decided  it  by 
a  strict  negative,  if  it  had  been  laid  by  a  hen  kept  to  lay  eggs ;  because,  in 
that  case,  it  was  the  result  of  work  begun  on  a  week-day,  and  brought  to 
an  end  on  the  Sabbath.  On  this  the  Ralibis  were  unanimous.  But  how 
would  it  be  if  the  hen  v,'ere  one  intended  not  to  lay  eggs,  but  for  eating, 
and  how,  if  a  Sabbath,  and  a  feast  day  observed  as  a  Sabbath,  should  come 
together  ?  On  this  point  Shammai,  one  of  the  two  great  Rabbis  of  the 
day,  was  disposed  to  be  liberal,  and  decided  that  it  was  lawful  to  eat  the 
egg  of  a  hen,  itself  destined  to  be  eaten,  on  whichever  day  the  egg  had 
been  laid.  But  Hillel,  the  other  great  Rabbi,  argued  as  follows  : — Since 
the  egg  has  come  to  maturity  on  a  Sabbath  or  feast  day,  and  is  therefore 
of  unlawful  origin,  it  is  not  allowed  to  make  use  of  it ;  and  though  it  woiild 
be  lav,r£ul  to  make  use  of  the  egg  of  such  a  hen,  laid  on  a  feast  day  or 
Sabbath,  not  followed  or  preceded  by  another  similarly  sacred  day,  yet 
it  must  not  be  eaten  if  two  such  days  come  together,  because,  otherwise, 
there  woidd  be  a  temptation  to  use  it  on  the  second  holy  day.  And  since 
it  is  forbidden  even  to  carry  unlawful  food  from  one  place  to  another,  such 
an  egg  must  not  only  not  be  eaten,  but  must  not  be  touched,  to  put  it 
away.  The  conscientious  man,  therefore,  is  not  to  put  a  finger  on  it,  for 
that  might  lead  to  his  taking  it  altogether  into  his  hand,  and  is  not  even 
to  look  at  it,  for  that  might  possibly  make  him  wish  he  could  eat  it. 
Hillel's  opinion  carried  the  day,  for,  says  the  Talmud,  "  There  came  a  voice 
from  heaven,  saying — '  The  words  of  both  are  the  words  of  the  living  God, 
but  the  rule  of  the  school  of  Hillel  is  to  be  followed.' " 

These  worthless  puerilities  were  in  keeping  with  the  fantastic  exaggera- 
tions in  which  many  of  the  Rabbis  delighted.  What  shall  we  say  of  a 
learned  order,  which  has  treasured  in  that  great  repertory  of  its  sayings 
and  acts,  the  Talmud,  such  wild  Eastern  inventions  as  that  Adam  when 
created,  was  so  tall,  that  his  head  reached  heaven,  and  so  terrified  the 
angels  by  his  gigantic  size,  that  tliey  all  ascended  to  the  upper  heavens, 
to  God,  and  said,  "  Lord  of  the  world,  two  powers  are  in  the  earth  !  "  and 
that  on  this,  God  put  His  hand  on  the  head  of  Adam,  and  reduced  his 


LIFE    UNDER    THE    LAW.  163 

height  to  only  a  thousand  cubits — over  fifteen  hundred  feet !  "We  are  told 
that  there  were  sixty  thousand  towns  in,  the  mountains  of  Judea,  each 
with  sixty  thousand  inhabitants ;  that  there  is  a  bird  so  large  that  when 
it  flies  it  intercepts  the  light  of  the  sun ;  that  when  the  Messiah  comes, 
Jerusalem  will  have  ten  thousand  palaces,  and  the  same  number  of  towers, 
that  there  will  be  a  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  shops  of  vendors  of 
perfumes  alone;  that  Adam  had  two  faces  and  a  tail;  that  from  one 
shoulder  to  the  other  Solomon  measured  not  less  than  sixty  cubits ;  and 
that  at  one  blow  of  an  axe  David  killed  two  hundred  men. 

The  form  of  teaching  in  the  schools  of  the  Rabbis  was  by  question  and 
answer.  The  teacher  propounded  questions  of  legal  casuistry  to  the 
scholars,  and  let  them  give  their  oj^inions,  adding  his  own,  if  he  thought 
fit.  The  scholars  also  could  proi^ose  questions  in  their  turn.  They  sat, 
during  class  time,  on  the  ground,  the  teacher,  on  a  raised  seat,  known  as 
the  seat  of  Moses.  As  all  the  knowledge  of  the  Law  was  strictly  traditional 
and  oral,  teacher  and  scholar  alike  had  to  depend  entirely  on  memory,  the 
one  faculty  of  supreme  importance  to  both.  To  attain  high  fame,  a  Eabbi 
must  have  the  reputation  of  knowing  the  whole  immense  mass  of  tradition 
down  to  his  day,  by  heart,  so  as  to  be  able  to  cite  authorities  for  any 
possible  question.  Originality  was  superstitiously  dreaded,  and  nothing 
more  shrinkingly  avoided  than  the  giving  any  opinion  unsupported  by 
that  of  some  former  Rabbi.  To  forget  a  single  word  he  had  heard  from 
his  teacher  was  an  inexpiable  crime  on  the  part  of  a  scholar. 

The  feats  of  memory  prodiiced  by  such  a  system  were  so  amazing,  that 
we  may  readily  credit  the  tradition  of  the  whole  Talmud  having  been 
learned  by  heart,  in  sections,  by  the  disciples  of  a  Persian  Eabbi,  who 
feared  that  all  the  coj^ies  of  it  would  be  destroyed,  in  a  local  jDersecution, 
in  the  seventh  century.  The  mass  of  the  Rabbis,  to  use  a  Jewish  phrase, 
must  have  been  mere  book-baskets  ;  grown  childi'en,  full  of  the  opinions 
of  others,  but  piously  free  from  any  of  their  own — the  ideal  of  pedants. 

Officially,"  they  were  both  jurists  and  preachers.  They  explained,  de- 
fined, and  taught  the  Law  in  their  schools  ;  gave  judicial  opinions  and 
decisions  on  it  in  their  official  meetings,  and  delivered  expositions  of 
Scriptm^e,  in  their  own  style,  to  the  people  in  the  synagogues.  Their 
systems  of  interpretation  were  loeculiar.  The  professional  statement  of 
Rabbinical  Law,  on  one  point  or  other,  occupied  them  chiefly ;  for  every 
Rabbinical  precept  had  to  be  justified,  not  only  by  precedents,  but  by 
some  reference  to  the  written  Law,  and  this  often  required  both  tedious- 
ness  and  ingenuity.  There  was  no  end  of  points  on  which  a  legal  opinion 
was  volunteered  from  the  synagogue  pulpit,  and  trifles  infinitesimal  to 
any  but  Jews,  served  for  ceaseless  wi'angling  in  the  schools. 

The  interpretation  of  Scripture  gave  even  more  scope  to  Rabbinical 
fancy.  Three  modes  were  in  vogue :  the  using  single  letters  to  explain 
whole  words  or  clauses  ;  what  was  called  the  practical  exposition ;  and 
what  bore  the  name  of  the  "  Mystery  "—an  elucidation  of  the  lofty  seci-eta 
of  the  Creation,  the  world  of  angels,  and  such  transcendental  matters, 
from  the  most  improbable  sources.  Rules  were  provided  for  the  treatment 
of  these  different  methods,  but  the  utmost  license  prevailed,  notwithstand- 


164  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

ing.  The  nature  and  value  of  the  instruction  thus  given  may  be  judged 
iTom  some  illustrations  of  the  teaching,  in  the  days  of  oiir  Lord,  respecting 
the  secret  power  of  numbers. 

In  the  first  and  last  verses  of  the  Bible  the  first  letter  Alei^li  (k),  occui'S 
six  times,  and  as  six  alejAs  are  equal  to  our  figures  6,000— for  the  Jews 
used  letters  for  figures — it  was  held  to  be  proved  by  this  that  the  world 
would  last  6,000  years.  Words  in  a  verse  might  be  exchanged  for  others 
whose  letters  were  of  eqvial  numerical  value.  Thus  the  statement,  which 
greatly  offended  the  Eabbis,  that  Moses  had  married  an  Ethiopian  woman 
— in  violation  of  his  own  law — was  explained  as  a  figure  of  speech  which 
hid  an  orthodox  meaning.  The  letters  of  the  word  "  Cusliith  "  n''E^'-"l3,  an 
"  Ethiopian  woman,"  when  added  together  as  figures,  represented  736,  and 
the  letters  of  the  much  more  flattering  words,  "  fair  of  face,"  made  the 
same  sum,  and,  therefore,  they  were  clearly  the  true  meaning  ! 

Another  fancy  was  to  explain  texts  by  putting  the  numerical  value  of  a 
word  in  the  place  of  the  word  itself.  Thus,  in  Proverbs  viii.  21,  the  word 
which  we  have  translated — "  substance  "—was  read  as  the  number  310, 
its  value  in  figures,  and  the  doctrine  educed  from  it  that  God  will  give 
310  worlds  to  every  just  man  as  his  inheritance  ! 

This  strange  system  was  so  much  in  vogue  in  the  days  of  our  Lord  that 
it  occurs  even  in  the  New  Testament,  and  in  early  Christian  writings.  In 
the  book  of  Eevelation  the  name  of  "  the  Beast  "  is  veiled  from  common 
eyes  by  the  mystical  number  666,  but  the  reason  for  its  being  so  becomes 
very  apparent  when  we  find  that  it  is  a  cypher  for  the  letters  of  the  name 
of  Need.  The  early  Christians  imagined  that  God  had  already  revealed 
the  doctrine  of  the  Cross  to  Abraham  in  the  number  of  his  servants — 318; 
for  18  is  written  in  Greek  letters  IH — the  symbol  of  the  word  Jesus,  and 
300  is  the  letter  T,  which  means  the  Cross  !  With  the  same  liking  for 
mystery,  801  was  used  as  the  symbol  for  Christ,  because  the  Greek  word 
for  dove  (TrepLo-Tepa)  makes  that  cypher,  and  so  do  the  letters  Alpha  and 
Omega. 

This  love  of  the  mystical  prevailed  in  all  Eabbinical  teaching.  Tliiis 
the  account  of  the  Creation  and  Ezekiel's  vision  of  the  Wheel  were  made 
the  foundation  of  the  wildest  fancies.  "  Ten  things,"  we  are  told,  "  were 
created  in  the  twilight  of  the  first  Sabbath  eve  : — The  abyss  below  the 
earth  (for  Korah  and  his  company) ;  the  mouth  of  the  spring  (of  Miriam, 
which  gave  the  tribes  water  in  the  wilderness) ;  the  mouth  of  Baalam's 
she  ass ;  the  rainbow ;  the  manna  in  the  wilderness ;  the  rod  of  Moses ; 
the  schamir  (a  worm  which  cleaves  rocks) ;  alphabetical  characters ;  the 
characters  of  the  Tables  of  the  Law ;  and  the  Tables  of  stone  themselves. 
Some  Rabbis  add  to  these — evil  spirits,  the  grave  of  Moses,  and  the  ram 
that  was  caught  in  the  thicket. 

Such  was  the  teaching  of  the  Eabbis,  as  a  whole;  though  even  in  such 
sandy  wastes  there  were  not  wanting  specks  of  verdure,  as  one  still  sees 
in  the  Talmud.  Finer  minds  here  and  there,  for  a  moment,  gave  a  human 
interest  to  these  teachings,  or  touched  the  heart  by  poetry,  and  simple 
feeling.  But,  as  a  rule,  the  "Law,"  to  the  study  of  which  the  youth  of 
Israel  were  summoned  so  earnestly,  was  a  dreary  wilderness  of  vrorthless 


JUDEA   UNDER    ARCIIELAUS    AND    ROME.  165 

trifling.  The  spell  of  the  age  was  on  all  minds,  and  bound  them  in 
intellectual  slavery.  On  every  side,  Christ,  in  His  childhood  and  youth, 
heard  such  studies  extolled  as  the  sum  of  wisdom,  and  as  the  one  pursuit 
supremely  pleasing  to  God.  Yet  He  rose  wholly  above  them,  and  with 
immense  originality  and  force  of  mind,  valued  them  at  their  true  worth- 
lessness,  leaving  no  trace  of  their  spirit  in  the  Gospels,  but  breathing, 
instead,  only  that  of  the  most  perfect  religious  freedom.  It  has  been 
sometimes  insinuated  that  He  only  followed  the  teachers  of  His  nation : 
that  He  was  indebted  to  Hillel,  or  to  the  Pharisees  as  a  class  :  but  enough 
has  been  said  to  show  that  the  latter  were  the  representatives  of  all  that 
He  most  utterly  opposed,  and  the  distance  between  Him  and  Hillel  ma}-- 
be  measured  by  their  respective  estimates  of  the  sanctity  of  the  marriage 
bond,  which  the  Ea1)ln  treated  so  lightly  as  to  sanction  divorce,  if  a  wife 
burned  her  husband's  dinner. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

JUDEA   UNDER   ARCHELAUS   AND   ROME. 

r  I  "IHE  death  of  Herod  removed  the  strong  hand  that  for  more  than  a 
-■-  generation  had  repressed  alike  the  hatreds  and  the  hopes  of  the 
nation.  Fanaticism  had  muttered  in  secret,  and  had  at  last  burst  out  in 
the  tumults  at  the  Temple,  just  before  he  died ;  but  when  he  was  gone, 
there  was  no  one  to  hold  the  wild  forces  in  check  that  had  so  long  been 
pent  up. 

His  reign  had  served  the  purpose,  in  Providence,  of  delaying  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  Jewish  people  and  its  being  scattered  among  the  nations,  and 
made  its  dissolution  easier  in  the  end ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  had 
called  forth  the  sympathies  of  heathenism  for  Judaism  more  strongly,  and 
had  conquered  lasting  rights  for  it  among  the  nations,  as  in  a  sense  the 
salt  of  the  earth  and  the  forerunner  of  Christianity. 

The  rejoicings  of  the  nation,  that  the  scandal  of  an  Edomite  sitting  on 
the  throne  of  David  was  past,  knew  no  bounds.  A  negro  conqueror,  at  the 
White  House  in  Washington,  in  the  days  of  slavery,  would  scarcely  have 
raised  such  indignant  hatred,  or  have  been  so  revolting  to  the  national 
instincts  of  the  white  population  of  America,  as  an  Edomite  reigning  on 
Mount  Zion  was  to  the  Jews.  Even  the  founders  of  the  two  races  had 
been  mortal  enemies,  as  the  twin  sons  of  Isaac,  and  Jewish  tradition  em- 
bittered the  story  of  Genesis,  by  adding  that,  at  last,  Esau  killed  Jacob 
with  an  arrow  from  his  bow.  When  Israel  was  coming  from  Egypt,  Edom 
had  refused  it  a  passage  through  its  territory,  and  had  entailed  on  it  the 
dreary  years  of  wandering  in  the  wilderness.  The  Edomites  had  been 
mortal  enemies  of  its  first  king.  David  had  conquered  them,  and  he  and 
Solomon  had  reigned  over  them.  In  the  decline  of  Israel  under  its  later 
kings,  they  had  been  its  deadliest  and  most  implacable  foes.  They  had 
joined  tlie  Chaldeans  in  the  final  conquest  of  Judca  under  Nebuchadnezzar, 
and  liad  rejoiced  over  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  in  the  ]io];)e  of  getting 


166  THE   LIFE    OF   ClllilST. 

possession  of  its  richer  territory,  and  adding  it  to  their  own  wild  mountain 
laud.  The  i^rophcts,  from  Amos  and  Joel,  in  the  ninth  century  before 
Christ,  had  denounced  them  as  the  bitterest  enemies  of  the  theocracy. 
"  Edom  shall  be  a  desolate  wilderness,"  cried  Joel,  "  for  their  violence 
against  the  children  of  Judah  ;  because  they  have  shed  innocent  blood  in 
the  laud."  "  For  three  transgressions  of  Edom,  and  for  four,  saith 
Jehovah,"  cried  Amos,  "  I  will  not  turn  away  the  punishment  thereof,  be- 
cause he  did  pursue  his  brother  with  the  sword,  and  did  cast  off  all  pity, 
and  his  anger  did  tear  perpetually,  and  he  kept  his  wrath  for  ever.  But  I 
will  send  a  fire  upon  Teman,  which  shall  devour  the  palaces  of  Bozrah." 
Obadiah,  after  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  ISTebuchadnezzar,  taunted 
them  with  having  been  among  the  enemies  of  Israel,  in  the  day  when 
strangers  carried  away  cajDtive  the  force  of  the  land,  and  foreigners  entered 
its  gates  and  cast  lots  on  Jerusalem,  and  with  having  rejoiced  over  the 
children  of  Judah  in  the  day  of  their  destruction.  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel 
had  denounced  the  wrath  of  God  against  them,  and,  indeed,  every  prophet 
had  proclaimed  them  the  enemies  of  God,  whom  Israel  was  one  day  to 
crush  with  an  utter  destruction.  During  the  exile  they  took  possession  of 
great  part  of  the  territory  of  Judah,  and  were  only  finally  driven  back  by 
John  Hyi'canus,  who  conquered  them  130  years  before  Christ,  and  com- 
pelled them  to  submit  to  circumcision.  The  deadly  hatred  of  centuries 
was  intensified  by  such  a  history.  "  Thou  hatest  me,"  says  Jacob  to  Esau, 
in  the  book  of  Jubilees,  "  thou  hatest  me  and  my  sons  for  ever,  and  no 
brotherly  love  can  be  kept  with  thee.  Hear  this,  my  word,  which  I  say — 
When  I  can  change  the  skin  and  the  bristles  of  a  swine  to  wool,  and  when 
horns  spring  from  its  head  like  the  horns  of  a  sheep,  then  will  I  have 
brotherly  love  to  thee  ;  and  when  wolves  make  peace  with  lambs,  that  they 
shall  not  devour  them  or  spoil  them,  and  when  they  turn  their  hearts  to 
each  other  to  do  each  other  good,  then  shall  I  be  at  jDcace  with  thee  in  my 
heart ;  and  when  the  lion  is  the  friend  of  the  ox,  and  goes  in  the  yoke  and 
ploughs  with  him,  then  will  I  make  peace  with  thee ;  and  when  the  raven 
grows  white,  then  shall  I  know  that  I  love  thee,  and  shall  keep  peace  with 
thee.  Thou  shalt  be  rooted  out,  and  thy  sons  shall  be  rooted  out,  and  thou 
shalt  have  no  peace."  It  is  thus  that  a  Jew  sjieaks  of  Edom,  apparently 
in  the  very  days  of  Herod,  and  it  is  only  the  natural  culmination,  when  he 
prophecies,  in  the  next  chapter,  that  the  sons  of  Jacob  will  once  more 
subdue  and  make  bond-slaves  of  the  hated  race. 

Yet  one  of  this  execrated  and  despised  people  had  for  more  than  a 
generation  ruled  over  Israel !  His  death  was  the  removal  of  a  national  re- 
proach, that  had  been  bitter  beyond  words.  The  hope  of  the  land  now 
was  that  the  abhorred  usmper  might  prove  the  last  of  his  race  on  the 
throne  of  Judah.  Ai'chelaus  in  his  stead  was  even  worse  than  to  have  had 
Herod,  for  he  was  not  only  of  Idumean  blood,  but  his  mother  was  of  the 
equally  hated  race  of  the  Samaritans !  Eome,  rather  than  Edom  or 
Samaria ! 

Palace  intrigues,  and  especially  the  systematic  whisperings  of  Antipater, 
who  hated  his  brothers  as  rivals,  had  caused  Herod  to  change  his  will  once 
and  again  in  his  last  years.     In  the  end  nothing  seemed  likely  to  put  an 


JUDEA   UNDER  ARCHELAUS   AND   ROME.  167 

end  to  the  rivalries  of  his  family  but  the  breaking  up  of  the  kingdom 
which  it  had  been  the  work  of  his  life  to  create.  His  latest  gained  terri- 
tories beyond  the  Jordan  were  left  to  Philip,  the  son  of  Cleopatra,  a  maiden 
of  Jerusalem,  whom  Herod  had  married  for  her  beauty.  Galilee,  with 
Perea,  he  left  to  his  son  Antipas,  and  Judea,  Idumca,  and  Samaria,  with 
the  title  of  king,  to  Ai'chelaus,  both  sons  of  Malthace.  He  had  at  one  time 
intended  to  have  left  the  whole  kingdom  to  Herod,  son  of  the  second 
Mariamne,  as  successor  to  Antipater,  but  the  complicity  of  the  mother  of 
that  prince  in  the  intrigues  of  the  Eabbis  was  fatal  to  him.  Salome, 
Herod's  sister,  the  ruthless  enemy  of  the  Maccabeean  family,  received  the 
gift  of  the  towns  of  Jamnia  and  Aslidod  in  the  Philistine  plain,  and  of 
Phasaelis,  in  the  palm  groves  of  the  Jordan  valley. 

As  soon  as  Herod  was  dead  his  sister  Salome  and  her  husband  set  free 
a  multitude  of  the  leading  men  of  the  Jews,  whom  Herod  had  summoned 
to  Jericho,  that  he  might  have  them  butchered  at  his  own  death.  They 
next  assembled  the  army  and  the  people  in  the  amphitheatre  at  Jericho, 
and  having  read  a  letter  left  by  the  dead  king  for  the  soldiers,  opened  his 
will,  which,  with  his  ring,  was  to  be  carried  forthwith  to  Osesar,  that  the 
settlements  might  be  confirmed,  and  the  due  acknowledgment  of  depend- 
ence made.  Meanwhile,  the  soldiers  hailed  Archelaus  as  king,  and  forth- 
with took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  him.  It  was  noted,  however,  that 
Archelaus  held  a  grand  feast  on  the  night  of  his  father's  death. 

This  over,  the  funeral  of  Herod  followed,  after  due  preparation.  All 
the  magnificence  of  the  palace  had  been  laid  under  contribution.  The 
body  lay  on  a  couch  of  royal  purple  ;  a  crown  and  diadem  on  its  head ;  a 
sceptre  in  its  right  hand ;  a  j)urple  pall  covering  the  rest :  the  couch  itself 
standing  on  a  bier  of  gold,  set  with  a  great  display  of  the  most  precious 
stones.  Herod's  sons  and  a  multitude  of  his  kindred  walked  on  each  side, 
or  followed.  IvText  came  the  King's  favourite  regiments  :  the  body  guard 
given  him  by  Augustus  at  Cleopatra's  death ;  the  Thracian  corps ;  the 
German  regiment ;  and  the  regiment  of  Gauls,  all  with  their  arms,  stan- 
dards, and  full  equipments  ;  then  the  whole  army,  horse  and  foot,  in  long 
succession,  in  their  proudest  bravery.  Five  hundred  slaves  and  f  reedmen 
of  the  coixrt  carried  sweet  spices  for  the  burial,  and  so  they  swept  on, 
amidst  wailings  of  martial  music,  and,  doubtless,  of  hired  mourners,  by 
slow  stages,  to  the  new  fortress  Herodium,  ten  miles  south  of  Jerusalem, 
where  the  dead  king  had  built  a  grand  tomb  for  himself.  But  if  there 
were  pomp  and  pageantry  to  do  him  honour,  there  was  little  love  on  the 
part  either  of  the  nation  or  of  his  family,  for  Archelaus,  who  had  prepared 
all  this  magnificence,  quarrelled  with  his  relations,  on  the  way,  about  the 
succession,  and  scarcely  had  the  corpse  reached  the  first  half-hour's  stage, 
before  disturbances  broke  out  in  Jerusalem. 

Archelaus  paid  the  ciistomary  reverence  of  a  seven  days'  mourning  aftef 
the  burial,  closing  them  with  a  magniBcent  funeral  feast  to  the  people. 
He  then  laid  aside  his  robes  of  mourning  and  put  on  white,  and  having 
gone  up  to  the  Temple,  harangued  the  multitude  from  a  throne  of  gold, 
thanking  them  for  their  ready  submission  to  him,  and  making  great  pro- 
mises for  the  future,  when  he  should  be  confirmed  in  the  kingdom  by 


168  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Augustus.  The  crowds  heard  him  peaceably  till  he  ended,  but  he  had  no 
sooner  done  so,  than  some  began  to  clamour  for  a  lightening  of  the  taxes, 
and  others  for  the  liberation  of  those  in  prison  on  account  of  the  late 
religious  insurrection.  All  this  he  readily  promised,  and  retired  to  the 
palace.  Towards  evening,  however,  crowds  gathered  at  the  gates,  and 
began  lamenting  the  Rabbis  and  youths,  who  had  been  put  to  death  by 
Herod  for  cutting  down  the  golden  eagle  over  the  Temple,  in  the  late 
tumult,  and  demanding  that  the  oflficials  who  had  executed  Herod's  com- 
mands should  be  punished ;  clamouring,  besides,  for  the  deposition  of 
Joazar,  of  the  house  of  Bocithos,  whom  Herod,  in  compliment  for  having 
married  into  the  family,  had  appointed  high  priest  in  the  place  of  Matta- 
thias,  a  friend  of  the  national  cause.  More  dangerous  still,  they  demanded 
that  Archelaus  should  at  once  rise  against  the  Eomans,  and  drive  them 
out  of  the  country.  His  utmost  efforts  to  appease  them  were  vain.  Each 
day  saw  a  greater  tumult,  and,  to  make  matters  worse,  the  city  was  filling 
with  countless  multitudes  coming  to  the  Passover,  now  at  hand.  Force 
alone  could  restore  order,  and  this  he  was  at  last  compelled,  most  reluc- 
tantly, to  use.  A  bloody  street  battle  followed,  in  which  3,000  were  slain, 
and  the  Passover  guests  were  shut  out  of  the  city,  and  returned  home 
without  having  been  able  to  keep  the  feast.  The  winds,  long  chained  by 
Herod,  had  broken  loose. 

Archelaus  forthwith  set  off  for  Eome,  leaving  Philip  regent  in  his 
absence.  Doris,  Herod's  wife,  Salome,  his  sister,  and  other  members  of 
the  family,  went  with  him,  ostensibly  to  support  his  claims,  but  in  reality 
to  oppose  him,  for  the  family  hated  him  as  the  son  of  a  Samaritan,  and, 
even  more,  as  a  second  Herod.  Antij^as,  also,  started  for  Rome,  to  plead 
his  own  claims  to  the  kingdom,  on  the  strength  of  a  former  will,  and,  as 
the  elder,  was  secretly  supported  in  his  enterprise,  with  refined  treachery, 
even  by  those  who  escorted  Archelaus. 

The  family  would  have  liked  an  oligarchy,  in  which  all  could  share, 
rather  than  any  king,  but  preferred  a  Roman  governor  to  either  Arche- 
laus or  Autipas  ;  but  if  one  of  these  two  must  be  chosen,  they  wished 
Antipas  rather  than  his  brother,  whom  they  all  hated.  At  Rome  the  two 
claimants  canvassed  eagerly  among  the  Senators,  in  favour  of  their  rival 
causes,  and  lowered  their  dignity  by  unseemly  disputes.  Meanwhile,  a 
deputation  of  fifty  Jews  arrived  from  Jerusalem  to  protest  against  Arche- 
laus being  made  king,  and  to  ask  the  incorporation  of  Judea  with  Syria, 
as  part  of  a  Roman  province,  under  a  Roman  governor,  thinking  that 
Rome  would  be  content  with  their  submission  and  tribute,  and  leave  the 
nation  independent  in  its  religious  affairs.  The  embassage  was  received 
with  great  enthusiasm  by  the  Jews  of  Rome,  eight  thousand  of  whom 
escorted  them  to  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  where  Augustus  gave  them 
audience.  All  possible  charges  against  Herod,  though  now  dead,  were 
detailed  at  length — his  Avholesale  proscriptions  and  confiscations;  his  adorn- 
ing foreign  cities,  and  neglecting  those  of  his  own  kingdom  ;  his  excessive 
taxation,  and  much  more  ;  the  petitioners  adding  that  they  had  hoped  for 
milder  treatment  from  Archelaus,  but  had  had  to  lament  3,000  of  their 
countrymen  slain  by  him  at  the  Temple,  at  his  very  entrance  on  power. 


JUDEA   UNDER   ARCHELAUS    AND    ROME.  1G9 

The  peojjle,  they  said,  wished  only  one  thing,  deliverance  from  the  Hei'ods, 
and  annexation  to  Syria.  The  whole  scene  of  the  audience  was,  erelong, 
widely  reported  in  Jndea,  and  stamped  itself  deejoly  on  the  national 
memory,  esj^ecially  the  fact  that  Archelaus,  adding  the  last  touch  to  the 
humiliation  to  whicli  both  brothers  had  stooped,  threw  himself  at  CsBsar's 
feet  to  implore  his  favour.  Many  years  after,  Jesus  needed  to  use  no 
names,  in  His  parable  of  the  pounds,  to  tell  whom  He  meant,  when  He 
spoke  of  a  king,  against  whom  His  people  clamoured  before  a  foreign 
throne — "  We  will  not  have  this  man  to  rule  over  us." 

Archelaus  was  only  in  part  successful.  A  few  days  after  the  pleadiugs, 
from  respect  to  Herod's  will,  and,  doubtless,  influenced  by  a  bequest  of 
ten  millions  of  drachmaj  in  it  to  himself,  a  gift  equal  to  about  £375,000, 
besides  jewels  of  gold  and  silver  and  very  costly  garments,  to  Julia,  his 
wife,  Cccsar  raised  the  suppliant  from  his  feet,  and  ai^pointed  him  ethnarch 
of  the  part  of  the  kingdom  left  him  by  Herod ;  promising  to  make  him 
king  hereafter,  if  he  were  found  worthy.  Idumea,  Judea,  and  Samaria, 
with  the  great  cities,  Jerusalem,  Samaria,  Ceesarea,  and  Joppa,  were 
assigned  him ;  but  Gaza,  Gadara,  and  Hippos,  as  Greek  cities,  were  incor- 
jjorated  with  the  province  of  Syria.  His  revenue  was  the  largest,  for  it 
amounted  to  600  talents,  or  about  £120,000.  Antipas  had  only  a 
third  part  as  much,  and  Philip  only  a  sixth.  The  immense  sum  of  money 
left  him  by  Herod,  CiEsar  retui-ned  to  the  sons,  reserving  only  a  few  costly 
vessels  as  mementoes. 

While  these  strange  scenes  were  enacting  at  Rome,  things  were  going 
on  very  badly  in  Palestine.  As  soon  as  Archelaus  had  sailed,  the  whole 
nation  was  in  uproar.  The  massacre  at  his  accession  had  been  like  a  spark 
in  explosive  air,  and  the  flame  of  revolt  burst  out  at  once.  The  moment 
seemed  auspicious  for  the  re-erection  of  the  theocracy,  with  God  for  the 
only  king,  as  in  early  days.  The  rich,  and  such  as  had  no  higher  wish 
than  the  material  advantages  of  trade  and  commerce,  which  they  would 
bring,  desired  govex^nment  by  a  Roman  procurator.  They  regarded  reli- 
gion, government,  law,  and  constitution,  with  equal  indifference,  setting 
their  personal  ease  and  gain  before  anything  else.  But  for  generations 
there  had  been  a  growing  jaarty  in  the  land,  Avhose  ideas  and  aims  were 
very  different.  From  Ezra's  time,  the  dream  of  a  restored  theocracy  had 
been  cherished,  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  nation,  with  undying 
tenacity,  by  a  portion  of  the  people.  The  political  system  of  the  Pentateuch 
was  their  sacred  ideal.  Kings  over  Israel  were,  in  their  eyes,  usurpers 
of  the  rights  of  Jehovah,  against  whom  Samuel,  the  great  prophet,  had, 
in  His  name,  jirotested.  The  heathen  could  no  more  be  tolerated  now  than 
the  Canaanites  of  old,  whom  God  had  commanded  their  fathers  to  drive 
out.  The  land  was  to  be  sacred  to  Jehovah  and  His  people,  under  a  high 
priesthood  only,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  foreign  or  kingly  rule.  The  im- 
possibility of  restoring  such  a  state  of  things,  after  the  changes  of  so 
many  centuries,  may  have  been  felt,  but  was  not  acknowledged.  It  stood 
commanded  in  the  Holy  Books,  and  that  was  enough.  Their  fathers  had 
murmured  under  Persian  domination,  and  had  eagerly  grasped  at  the 
promises  of  the  Greek  conqueror,  demanding,  however,  that  they  should 


170  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

include  tlio  safety  of  tlieir  special  institutions.  When  Grecian  supremacy, 
in  its  turn,  became  corrupt,  and  tlircatened  the  destruction  of  the  "  Law," 
the  "  pious "  revolted,  and  fought,  under  the  Maccabees,  for  the  true 
religion,  but  still  in  the  foi'm  of  a  theocracy.  They  continued  faithful  to 
the  great  patriot  family,  as  long  as  it  maintained  the  high  priesthood  as 
the  highest  dignitj^  of  the  state,  but  they  had  taken  up  arms  onl}^  to 
defend  the  faith,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  able  once  more  to  practise  its 
rites,  and  to  give  themselves  \\-p  again  to  religious  study,  they  forsook  the 
ranks  of  the  Maccabajans,  unwilling  to  take  any  part  in  the  consolidation 
of  a  political  power  to  which  they  attached  no  value.  In  the  end,  Judas 
had  been  well-nigh  deserted,  and  could  gather  only  a  handful  of  3,000 
followers,  and  his  brother,  who  succeeded  him,  had  to  flee  with  a  rem- 
nant of  their  adherents,  to  the  fens  and  reed  beds  of  Lake  Merom,  or  the 
wilds  of  Gilead.  The  long  peace  which  prevailed  in  the  reign  of  John 
Ilyrcanus,  after  his  wars  were  ended,  Avas  devoted  by  the  Rabbis  to  the 
creation  of  the  famous  "hedge  "  round  the  Law,  to  prevent  for  ever  the 
religious  apostasy  and  decay  which  had  almost  ruined  Judaism  under  the 
Syro-Grcek  dvnasty.  From  this  time  we  hear  of  the  "  unsociability  "  of 
the  Jews  towards  other  nations.  Pharisaism,  or  separation,  was  erected 
into  a  system,  and  was  pushed  to  its  ultimate  and  most  rigorous  con- 
sequences with  a  zeal  and  fanaticism  that  excite  wonder.  The  extreme 
party  became  known  as  the  "  Separation,"  while  the  courtly  party  round 
the  king,  who  were  contented  to  follow  the  Law  as  written,  conscientiously 
and  rigorously,  were  called  in  irony  the  Saddouk,  or  "  righteous,"  or,  as 
we  call  them,  the  Sadducees. 

The  indifference  of  the  Pharisaic,  or  ultra  party,  to  jiolitical  affairs,  and 
their  concentration  on  the  observance  and  elaboration  of  the  Law,  became, 
in  the  end,  the  characteristic  of  the  people  at  large.  During  the  civil  war 
between  Hyrcanus  and  Ai-istobulus,  the  two  Asmoncan  brothers,  they 
stood,  as  much  as  possible,  aloof.  The  Jew  is  democratic  by  nature,  and 
seeks  equality,  whether  under  a  foreign  or  native  government.  "  The  holy 
nation,"  "  the  kingdom  of  priests,"  recognised  no  other  distinction  than 
that  of  superior  piety  and  knowledge  of  the  Law,  which  are  only 
personal  virtues,  and  cannot  be  transmitted.  The  Asmonean  family,  once 
on  the  throne,  lost  much  of  the  popular  sympathy,  and  the  joriostly  aristo- 
cracy which  formed  the  court,  became  objects  of  aversion.  From  the  last 
years  of  John  Hyrcanus  to  the  death  of  Jannasus,  the  Eabbis,  living  in 
retirement,  attracted  to  themselves  more  and  more  the  vital  force  of  the 
nation ;  and  dm'ing  the  nine  sunny  years  of  royal  patronage,  under 
Alexandra,  instead  of  busying  themselves  in  heaping  up  wealth  and  in- 
creasing their  power,  they  laboured  to  found  a  legal  system  which  should 
secure  the  triumph  of  their  ideas.  Disinterestedness  is  always  attractive, 
and  it  had  its  reward  in  creating  a  fanatical  devotion  to  the  Eabbis,  which 
knew  no  limits.  "  Love  work,  keeiJ  apart  from  politics,  and  have  nothing 
to  do  with  office,"  was  the  maxim  of  Shemaia,  the  successor  of  Simeon  Ben 
Slietach.  The  struggle  between  Hyrcanus  and  Aristobulus  had  no  interest 
to  the  Pharisees.  The  Talmud,  which  embodies  Eabbinical  feeling,  never 
mentions  even  the  names  of  any  of  the  five  Maccabees — not  eve'n  that  of 


JUDEA   UNDER   ARCHELAUS   AND   ROME.  171 

Judas, — and  the  spelling  and  meaning  of  the  word  Maccabee  were  alike 
unknown  to  its  compilers.  The  history  of  the  nation  was  utterly  ignored 
by  these  dreamy  trauscendentalists,  who  recognised  no  earthly  power 
whatever. 

But  even  among  the  Rabbis,  and  the  blindly  fanatical  people,  there  was 
an  ultra  party  of  Irreconcilables.  From  the  first,  even  Rabbinical  stern- 
ness and  strictness  were  not  stern  and  strict  enough  for  some,  and  there 
appeared,  at  times  within  the  circle  of  the  Rabbis,  at  others,  outside,  men 
of  extreme  views,  who  would  tolerate  no  compromises  such  as  the  Phari- 
sees were  willing  to  accept.  They  would  acknowledge  neither  prince  nor 
king,  far  less  any  foreign  heathen  power.  Already,  in  the  days  of  John 
Hyrcanus,  they  had  begun  to  mutter  discontentedly,  and  their  voices  rose 
louder  under  Alexander  Jannceus,  who  tried  to  crush  them  bj'  the  fiercest 
persecution.  But  when  Pompey  came,  as  conqiieror,  and  arbiter  of  the 
national  destiny,  they  once  more,  by  their  eai-nest  protests,  showed 
that  their  party  was  still  vigorous.  In  the  civil  wars,  many  of  them  fought 
for  the  Asmonean  princes  ;  but,  under  Herod,  they  were  so  mercilessly 
held  down  that  no  political  action  on  their  part  was  possible,  and  they  had 
to  devote  themselves  to  the  eager  study  of  the  Law,  which  made  his 
reign  the  Augustan  age  of  Rabbinism.  But  in  their  schools  they  could 
£.t  least  kindle  the  zeal  of  the  rising  youth,  and  this  some  of  them  did  only 
too  effectively.  Even  in  the  sternest  days  of  Herod's  reign,  moreover, 
some  had  not  been  wanting  to  maintain  a  fierce  protest  against  his  usurp- 
ation of  the  throne,  which  they  believed  belonged  only  to  God.  The  so- 
called  robbers,  ci'ushed  by  him  at  Arbela,  seem  to  have  been  rather  patriotic 
bands,  wrong  it  may  be  in  the  means  pursued,  but  nol)le  in  their  aims, 
who  sought  to  carry  out  the  theocratic  dream.  The  foremost  leader  of 
these  fierce  zealots  had  been  that  Hezckiah  whom  Herod,  with  much  diffi- 
culty, had  secured  and  put  to  death.  His  son  Judas,  the  GaliliEan,  was 
now,  in  his  turn,  to  raise  the  standard  of  national  liberty  and  institutions. 

Quintilius  Varus,  the  future  victim,  with  his  legions,  of  Arminius,  in 
Germany — now  governor  of  Syria — had  come  to  Jerusalem,  on  account 
of  the  disturbances  at  the  accession  of  Archelaus.  After  some  executions, 
supposing  that  he  had  restored  order,  he  returned  to  Antioch,  leaving 
behind  him  in  Jerusalem,  under  Sabinus,  a  whole  legion  instead  of  the 
garrison  that,  in  peaceful  times,  would  have  been  thought  sufficient.  He 
could  hardly  have  done  worse  than  put  such  a  man  as  Sabinus  in  command, 
for,  like  Roman  governors  in  general,  in  that  day,  he  was  a  man  of  no 
principle,  bent  only  on  making  a  fortune,  even  by  the  vilest  means,  while 
he  had  opportunity.  He  infuriated  the  Jews  by  forcing  the  surrender  of 
the  castles  of  Jerusalem  into  his  hands,  to  get  possession  of  Herod's  trea- 
sures, which  he  at  once  appropriated  to  his  own  use.  Plunder  was  his 
one  thought,  and  to  secure  it,  no  act  of  lawless  violence  was  too  audacious. 
Extortion  and  robbery  drove  the  people  to  fury.  Not  only  the  city,  but 
the  country  everywhere  seethed  with  excitement.  It  seemed  a  fitting 
moment  to  strilce  for  their  long  lost  national  liljerty,  and  to  set  up  the 
theocracy  again,  under  the  Rabbis,  after  having  driven  out  the  heathen. 
Their  fanaticism  knew  no  caution  or  prudence,  nor  any  calculation  of  the 


172  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

odds  against  them.  Miracles  would  be  wrought,  if  needed,  to  secure  their 
triumph,  and  was  not  the  Messiah  at  hand  ?  It  was,  moreover,  the  time 
of  Pentecost,  and  an  immense  body  of  men  from  Galilee,  Idumea,  Jericho, 
and  Perea,  but  above  all,  from.  Judea,  taking  advantage  of  the  feast,  hurried 
up  to  Jerusalem  to  join  issue  with,  the  greedy  robber  plundering  the  city. 
Dividing  themselves  into  three  camps,  they  fortliAvith  invested  the  city, 
and  Sabinus,  in  terror,  withdrew  to  the  fort  Phasaelis.  But  the  storm 
soon  burst  on  him.  Crowding  the  roofs  of  the  Temple  cloisters,  the  Jews 
rained  down  a  storm  of  missiles  on  the  Eoman  soldiers  sent  to  dislodge 
them,  till  at  last  these,  finding  other  means  useless,  fired  and  nearly 
destroyed  the  cloisters, — the  dry  cedar  of  the  roofs,  and  the  wax  in  which 
the  plates  of  gold  that  covered  them  were  bedded,  feeding  the  flames  only 
too  readily.  The  Temple  itself  was  now  at  the  mercy  of  the  assail- 
ants, who  avenged  themselves  by  plundering  its  treasures,  Sabinus 
himself  securing  400  talents — about  £'83,000 — for  his  share.  But  this  only 
infuriated  the  people  still  more,  and  even  Herod's  army  was  so  outraged 
by  it,  that  all  the  troops,  except  the  Samaritan  regiments — numbering 
3,000  men — went  over  to  the  popular  side.  Meanwhile,  the  flame  of  revolt 
spread  over  the  whole  country.  The  discharged  soldiers  of  Herod  began 
plundering  in  Judea,  and  2,000  of  them  got  together  in  Idumea  and  fought 
stoutly  against  the  new  king's  party,  driving  Herod's  cousin,  Achiab,  who 
was  sent  against  them,  to  take  refuge  in  the  fortresses,  while  they  held 
the  open  country.  Across  the  Jordan,  in  Perea,  one  Simon,  who  had  been 
a  slave  of  Herod,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  great  band,  who  acknow- 
ledged him  as  king,  and  doubtless  hoj^ed,  by  his  means,  to  deliver  their 
country,  and  restore  its  religious  freedom.  Betaking  themselves  to  the 
defile  between  Jerusalem  and  Jericho,  they  burned  Herod's  palace  at  the 
latter  city,  and  carried  flame  and  sword  to  the  homes  of  all  who  did  not  favour 
tiiem.  A  corps  of  Roman  soldiers  sent  out  against  Simon  soon,  however, 
scattered  his  followers,  and  he  himself  was  slain. 

Further  north,  Athronges,  a  shepherd  of  the  wild  pastures  beyond  the 
Jordan,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  popular  excitement.  He  was  a  man 
of  great  size  and  strength,  and  with  four  brothers,  all,  like  him,  of  lofty 
stature,  strove  in  his  own  wild  way  to  avenge  his  country.  Gathering  a 
vast  multitude  of  followers,  he  kei^t  up  a  fierce  guerilla  warfare  against 
the  troops  sent  out  to  put  him  down,  and  was  able  to  keep  the  field  for 
years,  so  well  was  he  supported  by  the  people. 

But  the  most  alarming  insurrection  broke  out  in  Galilee,  the  old  head- 
quarters of  the  Zealots,  under  Hezekiah,  in  the  last  generation.  Judas, 
his  son,  born  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan,  but  known  as  the  Galilajan, 
had  grown  to  manhood  full  of  the  spirit  of  his  father.  The  same  lofty  ideal, 
of  restoring  the  land  to  God  as  its  rightful  king,  had  become  the  dream  of 
his  life.  The  time  seemed  to  favour  his  rising  for  "  God  and  the  Law,"  as 
his  father,  and  the  heroes  of  his  nation,  had  done  in  the  past.  The  brave 
true-hearted  Galilteans,  ever  ready  to  fight  at  the  cry  that  the  Law  was 
in  danger,  rallied  round  him  in  great  numbers,  and  at  their  head  he 
ventured  on  an  enterpi'ise  which  made  him  the  hero  of  the  day,  in  every 
town  and  village  of  the  land.     Scpphoris,  a  walled  hill  citj,  over  the  hills 


JUDEA   UNDER   ARCHELAUS   AND   ROME.  173 

Irom  Nazareth,  was  the  capital  of  Galilee,  and  the  great  arsenal  in  the 
north.  This  fortress,  sitting  on  its  height  like  a  bird,  as  its  name  hints, 
Judas  took  by  storm,  and  its  capture  put  in  his  hands  arms  of  all  kinds 
for  thousands,  and  a  large  sum  of  money. 

How  long  he  was  able  to  keep  the  field  is  not  known.  The  Eomans  lost 
no  time  in  taking  steps  to  crush  him  and  the  other  rebels.  Varus,  afraid 
of  the  safety  of  the  troops  he  had  left  in  Jerusalem,  set  off  southward 
from  Antioch  with  two  more  legions,  and  four  regiments  of  cavalry,  in 
addition  to  the  auxiliary  forces  supplied,  as  was  required  of  them,  by  the 
local  princes  round.  As  he  passed  through  Berytus,  that  city  added  its 
fiuota  of  1,500  men,  and  Aretas,  king  of  Arabia  Petrasa,  sent  him  a  large 
contingent  of  irregulars,  in  the  shape  of  wild  Arab  horsemen  and  foot 
soldiers.  The  whole  force  rendezvoused  at  Ptolemais,  and  from  this  point 
Varus  sent  his  son,  with  a  strong  division,  into  Galilee,  while  he  himself 
marched,  by  way  of  Esdraelon  and  Samaria,  to  Jerusalem.  Samaria 
having  been  loyal — for  it  would  have  been  the  last  thing  its  citizens  would 
have  done  to  join  the  hated  Jews  in  a  w\ar  for  their  Law — was  left  un- 
touched. Varus  pitching  his  camp  at  a  village  called  Arus,  which  the 
Arab  auxiliaries  set  on  fire  as  they  left,  out  of  hatred  to  Herod.  As  they 
appi-oached  Jerusalem,  Emmaus,  where  a  company  of  Eoman  soldiers  had 
])con  attacked  and  partly  massacred  by  Athronges,  was  found  deserted, 
and  was  burned  to  the  ground,  in  revenge  for  the  insult  that  had  been 
offered  to  the  army  of  Eome.  Beaching  the  neighbourhood  of  the  capital, 
the  besieging  force  of  the  Jews  at  once  dispersed,  and  Varus  marched  in 
without  a  blow.  With  keen  dissimulation,  the  Jerusalem  Jews  forthwith 
laid  all  the  blame  of  the  troubles  on  the  Passover  crowds,  asserting  that 
they  had  been  as  much  besieged  as  Saljinus.  Meanwhile,  the  troops 
scoured  the  country  for  fugitives,  2,000  of  whom  were  crucified  along  the 
roadsides  near  Jerusalem.  A  Jewish  force  of  10,000  men,  still  afoot,  dis- 
banded itself,  and  the  revolt  in  Judea  was  for  the  moment  suppressed. 
Several  of  the  relations  of  Herod  who  had  taken  part  in  the  rising,  and 
had  been  sent  prisoners  to  Eome,  were  the  last  victims  for  the  time. 

The  force  under  the  son  of  Varus  had  meanwhile  been  busy  in  the 
north.  Sepphoris  was  retaken,  its  inhabitants  sold  as  slaves,  and  the 
town  itself  burned  to  the  ground,  but  Judas  escaped  for  the  present,  to 
begin  a  still  more  terrible  insurrection  a  few  years  later. 

Peace  was  thus,  at  length,  restored,  and  the  young  princes  entered  on 
their  inheritances,  thanks,  once  more,  to  Eome.  But  the  land  had  been 
desolated:  the  bravest  of  its  youth  had  died  on  the  battle-field  :  cities  and 
villages  lay  smouldering  in  their  ashes.  Samaria  alone  profited  by  the 
attempted  revolution  ;  for  not  only  did  it  suffer  nothing,  but  a  third  of  its 
taxes  were  remitted  and  laid  on  Judea— a  new  ground  of  hatred  towards 
the  "  foolish  people  "  of  Shechcm. 

The  sensual,  lawless,  cruel  nature  of  Archelaus,  with  his  want  of  tact, 
which,  together,  had  turned  both  his  family  and  his  father's  wisest 
counsellors  against  him,  leave  us  little  doubt  of  the  character  of  his  reign. 
The  general  estimate  of  him  was  that,  of  all  his  brothers,  he  was  most  like 
his  father.     Hv  returned  from  Eome  degraded  in  his  own  eyes  by  having 


174  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

had  to  bog  his  kingdom  on  his  knees,  and  by  the  people,  and  all  his  re- 
lations, except  the  just  and  honourable  Philip,  having  tried  to  prevent  his 
success  with  Augustus.  His  one  thought  -was  revenge.  Jesus,  though 
an  infant  when  Ai^chelaus  began  his  reign,  must  have  often  heard  in  later 
years  of  his  journey  to  Eome  and  its  humiliations,  and  of  the  savage 
reprisals  on  his  return ;  for,  as  I  have  said,  lie  paints  the  story  unmistak- 
ably in  the  parable  of  the  great  man  who  went  into  a  far  country,  to 
receive  a  kingdom ;  whose  citizens  hated  him,  and  sent  after  him  protest- 
ing that  they  would  not  have  him  to  reign  over  them.  The  fierce  revenge 
of  Archelaus  could  not  fail  to  rise  in  the  minds  of  those  who  heard,  in  the 
parable,  how  the  lord,  on  his  return,  commanded  his  servants  to  be  called, 
and  rewarded  the  faithful  richly,  but  stripped  the  doubtful  of  everything, 
and  put  to  death  those  who  had  plotted  against  him. 

Archelaus  began  his  reign  by  such  a  reckoning  with  his  servants  and 
enemies.  When  he  took  possession  of  his  monarchy,  says  Josephus,  he 
used,  not  the  Jews  only,  but  the  Samaritans,  barbarously.  In  Jerusalem 
he  deposed  the  high  priest  of  the  Boethos  family,  on  the  charge  of  having 
conspired  against  him.  But  though  this  might  have  pleased  the  Pharisees 
and  the  people,  who  counted  the  BoiJthos  high  priest  unclean,  he  only 
roused  their  indignation  by  filling  the  office  with  two  of  his  own  creatures 
in  succession.  His  treatment  of  his  people  generally  was  so  harsh,  that 
Jews  and  Samaritans  forgot  their  mutual  hatred  in  efforts  to  get  him 
dethroned.  His  crowning  offence,  however,  was  marrying  Glaphja^a,  the 
widow  of  his  half-brother  Alexander,  to  whom  she  had  borne  children. 
She  had  gone  back  to  her  father,  the  friend  of  Herod  and  Antony,  after 
the  death  of  her  second  husband.  King  Juba,  of  Libya,  when  Archelaus 
met  her  on  his  way  back  from  Rome,  and  falling  violently  in  love  with 
her,  married  her  after  divorcing  his  wife.  Her  former  career  in  Jerusalem 
might  have  made  him  hesitate  to  bring  her  back  again,  for  her  haugh- 
tiness, keen  tongue,  and  affected  contempt  of  Salome,  and  Herod's  family 
generally,  had  been  one  great  cause  of  her  first  husband's  death,  while  her 
training  her  children,  as  she  did,  in  heathen  manners,  had  made  her  hate- 
ful to  the  people.  Her  incestuous  marriage,  now,  involved  both  her  and 
Archelaus  in  the  bitterest  unpopularity.  But  she  did  not  live  long  to 
trouble  any  one.  It  seemed  as  if  the  return  to  the  scene  of  her  early 
marriage  life  had  waked  only  too  vivid  recollections  of  her  murdered 
husband.  Soon  after  it  she  dreamed  that  he  came  to  her  and  accused  her 
of  her  infidelity  to  him  in  marrying  Archelaus,  and  the  dream  so  affected 
her  that  she  sickened,  and  in  a  few  days  died. 

Archelaus  had  not  the  same  taste  for  heathen  architecture  or  public 
games  as  his  father,  and,  perhaps  to  his  own  hurt,  was  much  less  an  adept 
at  public  flattery  of  the  Emperor  and  his  ministers,  and  he  was  wise  or 
timid  enough  to  put  no  heathen  or  objectionable  impress  on  his  coins. 
At  Jericho  he  rebuilt,  with  great  magnificence,  the  palace  burned  down 
by  Simon,  and  he  founded  a  town  on  the  western  hill-slopes  of  the  Jordan 
valley,  in  Samaria,  calling  it  Arclielais,  after  himself,  and  embellishing  it 
with  fine  conduits,  to  water  the  palm  groves  in  his  gardens,  but  beyond 
this  he  left  no  monuments  of  his  reion.     His  time  and  heart  were  too 


JUDEA    UNDER    AECIIELAUS   AND    ROME.  175 

mucli  engrossed  with  vice  and  drunkenness  to  leave  mucli  interest  for 
anything  else. 

The  hatred  of  the  people  and  of  their  leaders,  the  Pharisees,  which  had 
striven  to  prevent  his  getting  the  throne  at  first,  gi'ew  only  fiercer  with 
time.  The  struggle  continued,  with  true  Jewish  pertinacity,  for  nine 
years,  fanned  more  or  less  openly  by  the  ethnarch's  relations,  and  their 
factions  at  court.  At  last,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  a.d.  6,  things 
came  to  a  crisis.  Judea  and  Samaria,  whom  common  oppression  had,  for 
the  moment,  made  friendly,  sent  a  joint  em.bassy  to  Rome,  to  accuse  the 
tyrant,  before  his  master,  of  having  aflxonted  the  imperial  majesty,  by  not 
observing  the  moderation  commanded  him.  Archelaiis  was  thoroughly 
alarmed.  Superstitious,  like  his  dead  wife,  he  dreamed  that  he  saw  ten 
ears  of  wheat,  perfectly  ripe,  presently  eaten  by  oxen,  and  at  once  taking 
the  dream  as  an  omen,  was  told  by  one  Simon,  an  Esscne,  that  the  ten 
heads  of  wheat  were  ten  years,  and  marked  the  length  of  his  reign.  Such 
a  forecast  was  only  too  easy.  The  embassy  to  Eome  had  done  its  work. 
Caesar  was  indignant,  and  ordered  the  Eoman  agent  of  Archelaus,  a  man 
of  the  same  name,  to  sail  at  once  for  Palestine,  and  summon  his  master  to 
the  imperial  presence.  Five  days  after  the  dream  the  messenger  reached 
Jerusalem,  and  found  Archelaus  feasting  with  his  friends.  The  imperative 
summons  brooked  no  delay,  and  the  vassal  instantly  set  out  for  Italy. 
There  his  fate  was  speedily  decided.  Accusers  and  accused  were  brought 
face  to  face,  and  Archelaus  was  sentenced  to  perpetual  banishment,  and 
the  confiscation  of  all  his  pi'operty  to  the  Emperor.  The  place  of  his  exile 
was  fixed  at  Yienne,  in  Gaul,  a  town  on  the  Rhone,  a  little  south  of  the 
modern  Lyons,  in  what,  long  afterwards,  became  the  province  of  Dauphine. 
Here  he  lived  in  obscurity  till  his  death,  amid  the  vines  of  southern 
France,  perhaps  a  wiser  and  happier  man  than  in  the  evil  years  of  his 
greatness.  His  reign  was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  Herod's  kingdom, 
his  dominions  being  forthwith  incorporated  with  Syria,  as  part  of  that 
Roman  province.  The  wish  of  the  Jews  was  at  last  gratified,  but  they 
were  soon  to  feel  how  bitterly  they  had  deceived  themselves  in  supposing 
that  incorporation  with  Rome  meant  religious  independence.  The  Castle 
at  Jericho,  and  the  palm  groves  and  buildings  of  Archelai's,  wei'e  the  only 
memorials  of  the  ethnarch,  except  the  bitterness  written  on  every  heart 
by  his  cruelties  and  oppressions. 

A  man  of  unspeakably  greater  importance  in  his  influence  on  the  nation 
— Hillel,  the  gentle,  the  godly,  the  scholar  of  Ezra,  appears  to  have  passed 
aAvay  in  these  last  months  of  excitement,  at  the  age,  it  is  said,  of  120. 
Boi-n  among  the  Dispersion,  in  Babylon,  he  had  come  to  Jerusalem,  long 
years  before,  to  attend  the  famous  schools  of  Abtalion  and  Shcmaiah, 
which  Herod's  proscriptions  would  have  well-nigh  crushed  in  later  years, 
destroying  Rabbinism  with  them,  but  for  the  genius  who  had  been  trained 
in  their  spirit.  Already  a  married  man,  he  had  no  income  but  the  tkiily 
pittance  of  half  a  denarius,  earned  as  a  light  porter  or  day  labourer, 
though  his  one  brother  was  a  great  Rabbi  and  president  of  the  school  at 
Baljylon,  and  his  other  was  growing  to  be  a  wealthy  man  in  Jerusalem. 
But  the  rich  one  did  not  trouble  himself  about  him,  and  affected  to  despise 


llQ  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

lilm,  and  the  other,  though  eminent,  was,  very  likely,  himself  poor. 
Unable,  one  day,  to  pay  to  the  doorkeeper  of  the  school  the  trifling  fee  for 
entrance,  Hillel  was  yet  determined  to  get  the  knowledge  for  which  his 
soul  thirsted.  It  was  a  Sabbath  eve  in  winter,  and  the  classes  met  on  the 
Friday  evening,  continuing  through  the  night,  till  the  Sabbath  morning. 
To  catch  the  instruction  from  which  he  was  shut  out,  Hillel  climbed  into 
a  window  outside,  and  sat  there,  in  the  cold,  for  it  was  bitter  weather,  and 
snow  was  falling  heavily.  In  the  morning,  says  the  tradition,  Shemaiah 
said  to  Abtalion:  "  Brother  Abtalion,  it  is  usually  light  in  our  school  by 
day  ;  it  must  be  cloudy  this  morning  to  be  so  dark."  As  he  spoke,  he 
looked  up  and  saw  a  form  in  the  window  outside.  It  was  Hillel,  buried  in 
the  snow,  and  almost  dead.  Carrying  him  in,  bathing  and  nibbing  him 
with  oil,  and  setting  him  near  the  hearth,  he  gradually  revived.  "  It  was 
right  even  to  jprofane  the  Sabbath  for  such  an  one,"  said  the  teachers  and 
students. 

Five  or  six  years  after  the  beginning  of  Herod's  reign,  Hillel  rose jtojoe 
the  head  of  the  Eabbinism  of  Jerusalem,  as  the  only  man  to  be  found  who 
had  studied  under  Abtalion  and  Shemaiah.     After  a  time,  a  rival  school  rose 
under  Shammai.    Hillel,  though  a  strict  Jew,  had  still  a  leaning  to  charit- 
able and  liberal  ideas  in  some  directions  ;  Shammai  was  the  embodiment 
of  the  narrow  ultra-Pharisaic  spirit,  and,  as  such,  much  more  numerously 
followed  than  his  milder  rival.     Hillel's  weakness,  as  well  as  strength,  lay 
in  his  love  of  peace,  for  he  too  often  gave  up  principle  to  maintain  quiet. 
Many  of  his  sayings  are  preserved,  but  most  of  them  are  inferior  to  those 
left  by  Epictetus  or  Seneca.     His  summary  of  the  Law ;  to  a  heathen,  is 
1 1    the  best  known, — "  What  you   would  yourself  dislike,  never  do  to  your 
j  j    neighbour — that  is  the  whole  Law ;  all  else  is  only  its  application."     But, 
'      like  all  the   Rabbis,  his  religious    system  was   radically   unsound.      Its 
central  principle  was  the  belief  in  strict  retaliation,  or  recompense,  for 
every  act.     Like  for  like  was  the  sum  of  his  morality.     Seeing  a  human 
skull  floating  on  a  stream,  Hillel  cried  out,  "  Because  thou  hast  drowned 
(some  one),  thou  thj^self  art  drowned,  and  he  who  has  drowned  thee  will 
himself  some  day  also  be  drowned."     The  same  way,  he  believed,  would  it 
be  at  the  final  judgment.     "  He  who  has  gained  (the  knowledge  of)  the 
Law,"  said  he,  "  has  also  gained  the  life  to  come."     Service  and  payment, 
his  fundamental  motive  to  right  action,  inevitably  led  to  formalism  and 
selfish  calculation,  fatal  to  all  real  merit. 
,        The  banishment  of  Archelaus  found  Jesus  a  growing  boy  of  about  ten 
i    or  twelve,  living  quietly  in  the  Galilean  l^azareth,  among  the  hills.     It 
/     proved  a  momentous  event  in  the  declining  fortunes  of  the  nation,  for  its 
'     results  presently  filled  the  land  with  terror,  and  paved  the  way  for  the 
final  crisis,  sixty  years  later,  which  destroyed  Israel  as  a  nation. 

The  troubles  of  Herod's  time,  and  the  dreams  of  the  Eabbis,  had  excited 
a  very  general  desire,  at  his  death,  for  direct  government  by  Eome,  under 
the  proconsul  of  Syria.  The  deputation  sent  to  Augustus,  when  Archelaus 
was  seeking  the  throne,  had  prayed  for  such  an  arrangement,  thinking 
they  would  be  left  under  their  high  priests,  to  manage  their  national 
afi^airs  after  their  own  customs,  as  the  Phenician  cities  were  allowed  to  do 


U  ,Si,  .v  ^ 


s 


JUDEA   UNDER   ARCHELAUS   AND    ROME.  177 

under  their  Archons,  and  that  Eome  would  only  interfere  in  taxation  and 
military  matters.  Their  wish,  however,  was  the  only  ground  of  their  ex- 
pectation, for  Rome  never  left  large  communities  like  the  Jewish  nation 
thus  virtually  independent,  though  they  might  indulge  towns  or  cities 
with  such  a  jn-ivilege. 

When  Archelaus,  at  the  entreaty  of  the  people,  liad  been  banished,  their 
hopes  revived  of  the  restoration  of  the  theocracy  under  the  high  priests 
and  the  Rabbis,  with  a  nominal  supremacy  on  the  part  of  Rome.  The 
exile  of  the  tyrant,  therefore,  was  greeted  with  universal  joy ;  but  the  news 
that  a  prociu'ator,  or  lieutenant-governor,  as  ho  might  be  called,  had  been 
appointed  in  his  stead,  and  that  Judea  was  henceforth  to  be  incorporated 
into  the  i^rovince  of  Syria,  with  its  proconsul,  or  governor-general,  as 
supreme  head,  under  the  Emperor,  soon  dispelled  their  di'cams  of  theocratic 
liberty. 

The  jiroconsul,  or  governor-general,  of  Syria,  at  the  time,  was  Publius 
Sulj^icius  Quirinius,  a  brave  soldier,  and  faithful  servant  of  the  Emperor, 
accustomed  to  command  and  to  be  obeyed.  Ordered  to  incorporate  Judea 
with  his  province,  no  thought  of  consulting  Jewish  feelings  in  doing  so 
crossed  his  mind.  From  comparative  obscurity  he  had  risen,  through 
military  and  diplomatic  service,  till  Augustus  had  named  him  consul.  He 
had  made  a  successful  campaign  in  Asia  Minor,  against  some  tribes  of 
savage  mountaineers,  whom  he  succeeded  in  subduing,  by  blockading  the 
moiuitain  passes,  and  after  starving  them  into  submission,  had  secured 
their  future  quiet  by  carrying  off  all  the  men  able  to  bear  arms  ;  banishing 
some,  and  di'afting  the  rest  into  his  legions.  For  this  he  had  gained  the 
honour  of  a  triumph.  When  Cains,  the  young  grandson  of  Augustus,  was 
treacherously  wounded  in  Armenia,  he  had  maiiaged  affairs  for  him  so 
much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Emperor,  that  he  got  the  province  of  Syria 
as  a  reward.  With  all  this,  lie  bore  a  bad  character  with  those  who  knew 
him,  or  were  any  way  under  him,  as  not  only  malignant  and  grasping,  but 
mean  and  revengeful.  As  a  proof  of  this  it  was  instanced,  that  he  kejit  a 
charge  of  attempted  poisoning  over  his  wife's  head,  for  twenty  years  after 
he  had  divorced  her. 

The  procurator,  or  lieutenant-governor,  appointed  over  Judea  by 
Quirinius,  was  Coponius,  a  Roman  knight,  unknown  except  from  this 
office.  He  and  Quirinius  made  their  appearance  in  Jerusalem  together,  as 
soon  as  Archelaus  had  been  condemned,  to  take  possession  of  his  effects 
for  Augustus.  They  lodged  in  the  palace  of  Herod,  which,  henceforth, 
was  called  the  Pra3torium,  and  became  the  residence  of  the  procurators 
when  they  were  in  Jerusalem  at  the  time  of  the  feasts,  for,  except  then, 
they  lived  in  C^sarea.  The  Herod  family  had  to  content  themselves  with 
the  old  castle  of  the  Maccabasan  kings,  near  the  Xystus. 

Any  golden  dreams  of  a  restored  theocracy  were  soon  dispelled.  Hardly 
had  the  inventory  of  the  possessions  of  the  crown  been  finished,  before 
Quirinius  announced  that  his  next  duty  was  to  take  a  census  of  the  peojole, 
and  a  return  of  their  property  and  incomes,  as  the  basis  for  introducing 
the  Roman  taxation  common  to  all  subject  provinces  of  the  empire.  There 
could  be  no  clearer  proof  that  the  nation  had  deceived  itself.     Rich  and 

N 


178  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

poor  alike  resented  a  measure  whicli  annouuced  slavery  instead  of  freedom, 
and  ruinous  extortion  instead  of  prosperity.  In  every  country  the  intro- 
duction of  a  new  fiscal  system,  with  its  intrusion  into  private  affairs,  its 
vexatious  interferences  with  life  and  commerce,  its  new  and  untried 
burdens,  and  the  general  disturbance  of  the  order  of  things  which  custom 
has  made  familiar,  is  always  unpopular.  But  in  this  case  patriotic  and 
religious  feeling  intensified  the  dislike.  It  was  at  once  the  direct  and 
formal  subjection  of  the  country  to  heathen  government,  the  abrogation 
of  laws  with  which  religious  ideas  were  blended,  and  the  fancied  profana- 
tion of  the  word  of  Jehovah  and  of  His  prophets,  that  Israel  would  be  as 
the  sand  on  the  sea-shore,  loMch  cannot  he  numbered.  It  was  recalled  to 
mind,  moreovei%  that  when  the  wrath  of  God  turned  against  Israel,  He 
moved  David  to  give  the  command,  "  Go,  number  Israel  and  Judah."  It 
ran  also  from  mouth  to  mouth  that  old  i:)rophecies  foretold  that  the 
numbering  of  the  people  would  be  the  sign  of  their  approaching  fall  as  a 
nation.  To  the  fanaticism  of  the  Jew  the  census  was  a  matter  of  life  and 
death;  to  Quirinius,  who  could  not  comprehend  such  a  state  of  feeling,  it 
was  the  simplest  matter  in  the  world.  The  very  first  step  in  the  Roman 
government  of  Judea  brought  it  into  conflict  with  the  i^eople. 

The  systematic  and  direct  taxation  of  the  country  by  Rome  was,  from 
this  time,  an  inextinguishable  subject  of  hatred  and  strife  between  the 
rulers  and  the  ruled.  The  Romans  smiled  at  the  political  economy  of  the 
Rabbis,  who  gravely  levied  a  tax  of  half  a  shekel  a  head  to  the  Temple,  to 
avert  a  national  pestilence,  and  proposed  that  a  census  of  the  people,  cal- 
culated by  the  number  of  the  lambs  slaughtered  in  Jerusalem  at  the  last 
Passover,  should  be  the  basis  of  the  imperial  fiscal  registration.  But  if 
this  was  ridiculous  to  the  Roman,  it  was  a  matter  so  sacred  to  the  Jew, 
that  it  led  to  ever-fresh  revolts,  after  thousands  of  patriots  had  died  to 
maintain  it.  The  Jewish  law  recognised  taxes  and  free  gifts  only  for 
religious  objects,  and,  according  to  the  Rabbis,  the  very  holiness  of  the 
land  rested  on  every  field  and  tree  contributing  its  tithe,  or  gift  of  wood, 
to  the  Temple.  How,  it  was  asked,  could  this  sacredness  be  maintained, 
if  a  heathen  emperor  received  taxes  from  the  sources  consecrated  to 
Jehovah  by  these  tithes  and  gifts  P  Hence  the  question  rose,  "  whether 
it  was  lawful  to  i^ay  tribute  to  Oa;sar  or  not  ?  " — a  question  to  be  solved 
only  by  the  sword,  but  rising  ever  again,  after  each  new  despairing 
attempt  at  resistance.  Every  "  receipt  of  custom  "  at  the  gate  of  a  town, 
or  at  the  end  of  a  bridge,  was  a  rock  against  which  the  Jew  who  honoured 
the  Law  felt  his  conscience  wrecked,  or  a  battle-field  marked  by  deadly 
strife. 

This  sullen  antipathy  to  imperial  taxation  was,  moreover,  intensified  by 
the  evils  of  the  Roman  system.  The  chief  imposts  demanded  were  two — 
a  poll  and  a  land  tax,  the  former  an  income  tax  on  all  not  embraced  by 
the  latter.  The  income  tax  was  fixed  by  a  special  census,  and  was  rated, 
in  Syria  and  Cilicia,  at  one  per  cent.  All  landed  property  of  private 
individuals  was  subject  to  the  ground  tax,  while  the  JcAvish  crown  posses- 
sions were  confiscated  entirely  to  the  imperial  exchequer.  The  tax 
amounted  to  a  tenth  of  all  grain,  and  a  fifth  part  of  wiue  and  fruit,  and 


JUDEA   UNDEB   ARCHELAUS   AND    ROME.  179 

was  thus  very  oppressive.  Both  imposts  were  in  the  hands  of  "  publicans," 
who  bouglit  from  the  censors  at  Eome  the  right  of  collecting  the  taxes  for 
five  years.  These  puljlicani  farmed  the  revenue  from  the  State,  giving 
security  for  the  payment  of  a  fixed  sum  for  the  province  whose  taxes  they 
bought.  There  were,  however,  extraordinary  taxes  and  local  imposts, 
besides  the  two  great  ones.  If  corn  ran  short  in  Italy  the  provinces  had 
to  supply  it  at  fixed  prices,  and  the  procurator  at  Ctesarca  had  the  right 
to  demand  for  himself  and  his  attendants  what  supijlies  he  required. 

The  customs  and  excise  duties,  moreover,  were  levied  for  the  imperial 
government — and  the  tolls  on  bridges  and  roads,  the  octroi  at  the  gates 
of  towns,  and  the  custom-houses  at  the  boundaries  of  districts  or  provinces, 
which,  also,  were  farmed  by  the  publicani,  gave  additional  room  for 
arbitrary  oppression.  The  whole  system  was  radically  bad,  like  its 
counterparts  under  the  Ancien  Regime  in  France,  and  in  Turkey,  now, 
Tlio  Eoman  knights  who  took  contracts  for  provinces,  sub-let  them,  by 
districts,  to  others,  and  these  again  had  sub-contractors  to  smaller  and 
smaller  amounts.  The  worst  result  was  inevitable  whore  self-interest 
was  so  deeply  involved.  Each  farmer  and  sub-farmer  of  the  revenue 
required  a  profit,  which  the  helpless  provincials  had,  in  the  end,  to  pay. 
The  amount  assessed  by  Rome  was  thus  no  measure  of  the  ultimate  ex- 
tortion. The  greed  and  opportunity  of  the  collectors,  in  each  descending 
grade,  alone  determined  the  demand  from  the  taxpayer. 

Nor  was  there  a  remedy.  The  publicani  were  mostly  Roman  knights, 
the  order  from  which  the  judges  were  chosen.  They  were  the  capitalists 
of  the  empire,  and  formed  companies  to  take  up  the  larger  contracts,  and 
these  companies,  like  some  even  in  the  present  day,  were  more  concerned 
about  the  amount  of  their  dividends  than  the  means  of  obtaining  them. 
Complaints  could  only  be  laid  before  an  ofRcial  who  might  himself  intend 
to  farm  the  same  taxes  at  a  future  time,  or  v»'ho  was  a  partner  in  the 
company  that  farmed  them  at  the  moment.  Thus,  safe  from  the  law,  the 
oppression  and  extortion  practised  by  the  collectors  were  intolerable. 
The  rural  population  were  especially  ground  down  by  their  exactions.  A 
favourite  plan  was  to  advance  money  to  those  unable  to  pay  demands,  and 
thus  make  the  borrowers  private  debtors,  whose  whole  property  was  ere- 
long confiscated  by  the  usurious  interest  required. 

Caesar  has  left  us  a  vivid  pictiire  of  the  fate  of  a  Roman  province  in 
matters  of  taxation.  Speaking  of  Pius  Scipio,  the  proconsul  of  Syria  in 
B.C.  48,  he  tells  us  that  he  made  large  requisitions  of  money  on  the  towns, 
and  besides  exacting  from  the  farmers  of  the  taxes  the  amount  of  two 
years'  payment,  then  due  to  the  Roman  treasury,  demanded  as  a  loan  the 
sum  which  would  be  due  for  the  next  year.  All  this  extortion,  we  may  be 
sure,  would  have  to  be  more  than  made  up  by  the  unfortunate  provincials. 
Having  brought  his  troops  to  Pergamum,  one  of  the  chief  cities  of  the 
province  of  Asia,  he  quartered  them  for  the  winter  in  the  richest  cities, 
and  quieted  their  discontent  by  great  bounties,  and  by  giving  up  the 
towns  to  them  to  plunder. 

The  money  requisitions  levied  by  him  on  the  province  were  exacted 
with  the  xitmost  severity,  and  many  devices  were  invented  to  satisfy  tho 


180  THE   LIFE   OF   CHEIST. 

proconsul's  rapacity.  A  head  tax  was  imposed  on  all,  Ijotli  slave  and  free : 
taxes  were  laid  on  columns  and  doors ;  corn,  soldiers,  arms,  rowers, 
military  engines  and  conveyances,  were  taken  by  reciuisition.  If  anything 
could  be  thought  of  as  a  pretext  for  a  new  tax,  the  tax  was  imposed.  Men 
with  military  authority  were  set  over  cities,  and  even  over  small  villages 
and  i^etty  fortified  places ;  and  he  who  used  his  power  most  harshly  and 
remorselessly,  was  thought  the  best  man  and  the  best  citizen.  The 
province  was  full  of  lictors  [and  bailiffs ;  it  swarmed  with  officials  and 
extortioners,  who  demanded  more  than  was  due  for  the  taxes,  as  gain  for 
themselves.  In  addition  to  all  this,  enormous  interest  was  asked,  as  is 
usual  in  time  of  war,  from  all  who  had  to  borrow,  which  many  needed  to 
do,  as  the  taxes  were  levied  on  all.  ISTor  did  these  exactions  spare  the 
Roman  citizens  of  the  province,  for  additional  fixed  sums  were  levied  on 
the  several  communes,  and  on  the  separate  towns.  Cicero,  on  his  entry 
on  the  proconsulate  of  Cilicia,  found  things  equally  sad  in  that  province. 
He  tells  us  that  he  freed  many  cities  from  the  most  crushing  taxation,  and 
from  ruinous  usury,  and  even  from  debts  charged  against  them  falsely. 
The  province  had  been  nearly  ruined  by  the  oppressions  and  rapacity  of 
his  predecessor,  whose  conduct,  he  says,  had  been  monstrous,  and  more 
like  that  of  a  savage  wild  beast  than  a  man.  Such  pictures,  by  Romans 
themselves,  leave  us  to  imagine  the  misery  of  the  wretched  provincials 
under  proconsuls  and  procurators,  and  account  in  no  small  degree  for  the 
recklessness  of  Judea  under  the  Roman  yoke. 

Jesus  grew  up  to  manhood  amidst  universal  murmvirs  against  such  a 
system,  the  discontent  becoming  more  serious  year  by  year.  At  last  the 
Senate,  on  the  recommendation  of  the  Emperor  Tiberius,  sent  Germanicus, 
the  Emperor's  nephew,  to  Syria,  as  a  necessary  step  towards  calming  the 
popular  excitement.  The  Jews  had  already  sent  a  deputation  to  Rome,  to 
represent  the  ruin  brought  on  their  country  by  the  crushing  weight  of  the 
taxes.  The  deepening  exhaustion  of  Palestine  by  the  fiscal  oppression  of 
the  Romans,  and  of  Herod's  family,  is  incidentally  implied  in  many  pas- 
sages of  the  Gospels.  One  of  the  most  frequent  allusions  in  Christ's 
discourses  is  to  the  debtor,  the  creditor,  and  the  prison.  The  blind 
misrule  that  was  slowly  destroying  the  empire  fell  with  special  weight  on 
an  agricultui'al  people  like  the  Jews.  In  one  parable,  Jesus  represents 
every  one  but  the  king  as  bankrupt.  The  steward  owes  the  king,  and  the 
servant  owes  the  steward.  The  question  what  they  should  eat  and  what 
they  should  drink  is  assumed  as  the  most  joressing,  with  the  common  man. 
The  creditor  meets  the  debtor  in  the  street,  and  straightway  commits  him 
to  prison,  till  he  pay  the  uttermost  farthing,  and,  if  that  fails,  sells  him, 
his  wife,  his  children,  and  all  that  he  has,  to  make  up  his  debt.  Oil  and 
wheat,  the  first  necessaries  of  life,  are  largely  claimed  by  the  rich  man's 
steward.  Buildings  have  to  be  left  unfinished  for  want  of  means.  The 
merchant  invests  his  money,  to  make  it  safe,  in  a  single  pearl,  which  he 
can  easily  hide.  Many  bury  their  money  in  the  ground,  to  save  it  from 
the  oppressor.  Speculators  keep  back  their  grain  from  the  market,  and 
enlarge  their  barns.  Instead  of  a  field  which  needed  the  plough,  the 
spade  suffices.     "  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  says  the  ruiuea  steward,  "  I  caunot 


THE   EOMAN   PR0CURAT0E3.  ISl 

dig,  I  am  ashamed  to  beg."  In  the  train  of  scarcity  of  money  comes  the 
usurer,  who  alone  is  prosperous,  speedily  increasing  his  capital  five  or 
ev^en  ten  times.  This  state  of  things  is  constantly  assumed  in  the 
Gospels,  and  it  grew  woi'se  and  worse  through  the  whole  life  of  our  Loi'd, 
culminating  in  a  great  financial  crisis,  throughout  the  empire,  a  few  years 
after  the  Crucifixion. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    KOMAN   PROCURATOES. 

npiIE  material  ruin  wliicli  Rome  had  brought  on  the  land,  naturally  in- 
-'-  creased  the  prevailing  excitement,  and  the  bands  of  fierce  religionists 
which  lurked  in  the  hill-country,  constantly  received  additions  from  those 
whom  the  evil  times  had  beggared.  The  popular  mind  was  kept  in  per- 
manent agitation  by  some  tale  of  insult  to  the  Law  on  the  part  of  the 
Romans.  At  one  time  they  had  "  defiled  the  feasts,"  at  another  a  military 
standard  had  been  shown  in  Jerusalem,  or  a  heathen  emblem  brought  into 
the  Temple,  or  a  votive  tablet  set  up  on  Mount  Zion,  or  a  heathen  sculjj- 
ture  had  been  discovered  on  some  new  public  building.  Real  or  imagined 
offences  were  never  wanting.  Kow,  it  was  heard,  with  horror,  that  a 
procurator  had  plundered  the  Temple  treasures ;  then,  a  Roman  soldier 
had  torn  a  copy  of  the  Law ;  or  a  heathen  had  passed  into  the  forbidden 
court  of  the  Temple,  or  some  Gentile  child,  in  his  boyish  sport,  had  mocked 
some  Jew.  The  most  trifling  rumours  or  incidents  became  grave  from  the 
passion  they  excited,  and  the  hundreds  or  thousands  of  lives  lost  in  the 
tumults  they  kindled.  The  heart  of  the  whole  country  glowed  at  white 
heat,  and  ominous  flashes  continually  warned  Csesar  of  the  catastrophe 
approaching. 

The  excitement  caused  by  the  inquisitorial  census  of  persons  and 
property  by  Quirinius  was  intense.  Herod  and  Archelaus  in  their  taxation 
had  been  careful  to  avoid  direct  similarity  to  the  Temple  tenth,  and 
possibly  it  was  because  the  revenue  had  to  be  raised  in  any  circuitous  way, 
to  prevent  collision  with  the  popular  prejudices,  that  the  imposts  these 
princes  had  levied — tolls,  house  tax,  excise,  market  tax,  head  tax,  salt  tax, 
crown  tax,  and  custom  dues, — had  pressed  on  the  nation  so  heavily. 
Augustus  had  waived  the  introduction  of  the  Roman  modes  of  taxation, 
from  similar  motives  of  prudence,  and  Herod,  while  he  had  taxed  produce, 
took  care  to  avoid  requiring  a  tenth.  But  Quirinius  had  no  such  scruples, 
and  at  once  kindled  the  fiercest  resistance.  The  whole  nation  saw  in  the 
tithe  on  grain  and  the  two-tenths  on  wine  and  fruit,  an  encroachment  on 
the  rights  of  Jehovah.  A  leading  Rabbi — Zadok — headed  the  opposition 
in  his  class,  and  joined  JudaSjjthe  Galilajan,  who  again  appeared  in  the 
field,  callhig  on  all  to  take  arms.  The  Rabbis  inveighed  against  the  pro- 
posals of  Quirinius,  but  he  cared  nothing  for  their  theology,  and  as  he  had 
broken  the  moilutaineers  of  Cilicia  by  starvation,  he  felt  no  doubt  that  he 
could  keep  order,  in  spite  of  resistance,  among  the  Jews,     Ambition,  lovo 


182 

o£  money,  and  military  rule,  engrossed  tlie  thoughts  of  the  rough,  coarse 
soldier. 

At  fii'st  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  succeed.  The  high  priest,  Joazcr,  a 
Herodian  of  the  house  of  Boethos,  openly  took  his  side,  and  persuaded  the 
people  in  Jerusalem  to  let  the  census  and  registration  go  on  quietly.  The 
Rabbis  temporized,  and  seemed  inclined  to  take  the  safer  side.  But  this 
did  not  content  tlie  whole  body.  The  more  determined  were  weary  of  the 
endless  discussions  and  trifling  of  the  Synagogue,  and  broke  away  from 
their  brethren  to  found  a  new  school — that  of  the  "  Zealots " — which 
henceforth  carried  in  its  hand  the  fate  of  the  nation.  The  fanatics  of 
Judaism — their  one  sleepless  thought  was  war  with  Rome.  They  were 
the  counterparts  and  representatives  of  the  stern  puritans  of  the  Mac- 
cabtean  times,  and  took  their  name,  as  well  as  their  inspiration,  from  the 
words  of  the  dying  Mattathias — "  Be  Zealous,  my  sons,  for  the  Law,  and 
give  your  lives  for  the  covenant  of  your  fathers."  The  exhortations  of 
their  brethren,  to  submit  quietly  to  the  government,  were  answered  in  the 
words  of  the  early  patriots — "  Whoever  takes  on  him  the  yoke  of  the  Law 
is  no  longer  under  that  of  man,  but  he  who  casts  off  the  Law,  has  man's 
yoke  laid  on  him."  Thus,  the  foreboding  that  this  numbering  of  the 
people,  like  that  of  David,  would  bring  death  in  its  train,  was  not  un- 
accomplished. The  fierce  ruin  broke  forth  from  Gamala,  on  the  Sea  of 
Gennesai^eth,  a  district  in  which  the  census  was  not  to  be  taken;  and 
the  destroying  angel  who  passed  through  the  land  was  Judas  the 
Galila^an. 

Judas  is  one  of  those  ideal  forms  which  have  an  aljiding  influence  on  the 
imagination ;  an  enthusiast,  raised  above  all  calculations  of  prudence  or 
possibility,  but  so  grand  in  his  enthusiasm,  that  while  he  failed  utterly  in 
his  immediate  aim,  he  more  than  triumphed  in  the  imperishable  influence 
of  his  example.  He  vras  the  first  of  the  stern  Irreconcilables  of  his  nation, 
and  from  his  initiative  sjDrang  the  fierce  and  joitiless  fanatics  whose 
violence  led,  two  generations  later,  to  the  frightful  excesses  of  the  great 
revolt,  and  to  the  ruin  of  the  nation.  The  cry  which  drew  round  him  the 
youth  of  the  country,  had  been,  in  part,  the  inarticulate  longing  of  count- 
less noble  souls,  though  mingled  with  a  spirit  of  proscription  they  would 
have  repudiated.  "  No  Lord  but  Jehovah  :  no  tax  but  to  the  Temple  :  no 
friend  but  a  Zealot."  It  was  idolatry  to  pay  homage  to  Cassar ;  idolatry 
to  pay  dues  to  a  heathen  government ;  it  was  defilcmeiit  of  what  was  pure, 
to  give  tithes  or  custom  from  it  to  the  Unclean,  and  he  who  demanded 
them  was  the  enemy  of  God  and  of  Israel,  worthy  of  double  punishment 
if  a  Jew.  War  with  Rome,  and  with  their  brethren  willing  to  live  at  peace 
with  it,  were  alike  proclaimed.  Fire  and  sword  wasted  the  land.  The 
country  house  of  the  rich  Sadducee,  and  the  ricks  and  barns  of  the  well- 
to-do  friend  of  Rome,  everywhere  went  up  in  flames,  at  the  first  conflict  of 
the  rude  but  fiercely  brave  patriots  with  the  Roman  soldiery.  Inke  our 
own  Fifth  Monarchy  men,  they  believed  that  the  kingdom  of  God  could  be 
set  up  only  by  the  sword.  In  the  stern  spirit  of  the  Old  Testament,  they 
thought  only  of  hewing  Agag  in  pieces  before  the  Lord,  believing  them- 
selves God's  instruments  to  rid  the  land  of  His  enemies^  ranking  as  such, 


THE    ROMAN    PROCUEATOES.  183 

in  effect,  all  but  themselves  and  their  suijporters.  He  was  a  jealous  God, 
who  would  suffer  no  other  lords  in  His  inheritance,  and  His  will  was  a 
war  of  extermination  on  the  heathen  invaders,  like  that  of  Joshua  against 
the  Canaanites. 

From  the  Nazareth  hills,  Jesus,  as  a  growing  boy,  saw  daily  the  smoke 
of  burning  villages,  and  in  Joseph's  cottage,  as  in  all  others  in  the  land, 
every  heart  beat  fast,  for  long  weeks,  at  the  hourly  news  of  some  fresh 
story  of  blood.  But  the  insurrection  was,  erelong,  sujDpressed :  Judas 
dying  in  the  struggle.  The  terrible  story,  however,  was  never  forgotten. 
Many  years  after,  Gamaliel  could  remind  the  authorities  how  "  the  Galilean 
drew  away  much  people  after  him  but  perished,  and  as  many  as  obcj'cd 
him  were  dispersed."  Even  the  Eomans  learned  a  lesson,  and  never  at- 
tempted another  census  ;  for  the  proconsul  Gestius  Gallus,  so  late  as  the 
reign  of  Nero,  was  content  to  reckon  in  the  Jewish  manner,  by  the  number 
of  Passover  lambs.  To  the  peojile  at  large,  Judas  and  his  sons  were  a 
new  race  of  Maccabasan  heroes ;  for  the  sons— Jacobus,  Simon,  Menahcm, 
and  Eleazar — in  after  years,  carried  out  the  work  of  their  father  with  a 
splendid  devotion.  None  of  the  four  died  in  bed.  They  either  fell  in 
battle  against  Eome,  or  by  their  own  hand,  to  prevent  their  being  taken 
alive.  When  all  Judea  had  been  lost  but  the  rock  of  Masada,  it  was  a 
grandson  of  Judas  who  was  in  command  of  that  last  citadel  of  his  race, 
and  boasted  to  his  comrades  that  as  his  family  were  the  first  who  rose 
against  the  heathen,  so  they  were  the  last  who  continued  to  fight  against 
them,  and  it  was  he,  who,  when  all  hope  had  perished,  slew,  by  their  own 
consent,  the  900  men  who  were  shut  up  with  him,  and  set  the  fortress  in 
flames,  that  Eome  might  find  nothing  over  which  to  triumph  but  ashes 
and  corpses.  The  grand  self-immolation  of  Judas  became  a  deathless 
example,  and  kept  Eome  uneasy  for  seventy  years,  nor  is  Josephus  wrong 
in  saying  that  though  the  insurrection  lasted  hardly  two  months,  it  kindled 
a  spirit  which  reduced  Palestine  to  a  desert,  destroyed  the  Temple,  and 
scattered  Israel  over  the  earth.  Galileo  and  Judea  never  showed  their 
lofty  idealism  more  strikingly  than  in  producing  such  leaders,  or  in  con- 
tinuing to  believe  in  them  after  their  disastrous  end. 

Meanwhile  Quirinius  had  gained  his  point  in  a  measure,  and  the  poll 
and  ground  taxes  were  imjiosed  on  the  Eoman  plan,  by  the  close  of  the 
year.  But  nothing  was  done  to  lighten  the  previous  burdens,  of  which 
the  house  and  market  taxes,  especially,  were  hateful  to  the  people.  The 
fiscal  result,  however,  was  far  below  Eoman  expectations.  Although 
Herod  had  been  regarded  as  the  richest  king  of  the  East,  the  estimate 
forwarded  by  Quirinius  to  the  Emperor,  of  the  value  of  all  the  taxes, 
amounted  to  less  than  a  twelfth  part  of  the  sum  dei'ived  from  Egypt. 
The  computation  was  sent  for  each  tax,  that  Augustus  might  sanction  it, 
and  let  it  be  put  up  for  sale  to  the  publicani. 

The  opposition  to  this  heathen  taxation,  though  thus  outwardly  sup- 
pressed, was  otily  nursed  the  more  closely  in  the  hearts  of  all.  The  Eabbis 
still  taught  that  the  land  was  defiled  by  dues  paid  to  a  heathen  emperor, 
and  attributed  every  real  or  fancied  natural  calamity  to  the  displeasure  of 
the  Almighty  for  its  being  so.     "  Since  the  purity  of  the  land  was  de- 


184  THE  LIFE   OP  CHRIST. 

stroyed,"  sakl  tho}'-,  '*'  even  the  flavour  and  smell  of  tlio  fruit  are  gone." 
The  Roman  tithe  soon  told  fatally  on  that  which  had  hitherto  been  paid  to 
the  Temple,  and  tliis  the  Rabbis  especially  resented.  "  Since  the  tithes  are 
no  longer  regularly  paid,"  said  they,  "the  yield  of  thc'fields  has  grown  less." 
Hence  the  question  constantly  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  not  whether 
the  Roman  tax  should  be  paid,  but  whether  it  was  lawful  at  all  to  pay  it. 

The  hatred  and  contempt  for  those  of  their  countrymen  who,  under 
such  circumstances,  took  service  as  collectors,  under  the  associations  of 
publicani  farming  the  odious  taxes,  may  be  imagined.  The  bitter  relent- 
less contempt  and  loathing  towards  them  knew  no  bounds.  As  the  Greeks 
spoke  of  "  tax-gatherers  and  sycoi^hants,"  the  Jews  had  always  ready  a 
similarly  odious  association  of  terms  such  as  "  tax-gatherers  and  sinners," 
"tax-gatherers  and  heathen,"  "tax-gatherers  and  prostitutes,"  "tax- 
gatherers,  murderers,  and  highway  robbers,"  in  speaking  of  them.  Driven 
from  society,  the  local  publicans  became  more  and  more  the  Pariahs  of 
the  Jewish  world.  The  Pharisee  stepped  aside  with  pious  horror,  to  avoid 
breathing  the  air  poisoned  with  the  l^reath  of  the  lost  son  of  the  House  of 
Israel,  who  had  sold  himself  to  a  calling  so  imfamons.  The  testimony  of 
a  publican  was  not  taken  in  a  Jewish  coiirt.  It  was  forbidden  to  sit  at 
table  with  him  or  to  eat  his  bread.  The  gains  of  the  class  were  the  ideal 
of  uncleanness,  and  were  especially  shunned,  every  piece  of  their  money 
serving  to  mark  a  religious  offence.  To  change  coin  for  them,  or  to  accept 
alms  from  them,  defiled  a  whole  household,  and  demanded  special  purifi- 
cations. Only  the  dregs  of  the  people  would  connect  themselves  with  a 
calling  so  hated.  Cast  out  by  the  community,  they  too  often  justified  the 
bad  repute  of  their  order,  and  lived  in  reckless  dissipation  and  profligacy. 
To  revenge  themselves  for  the  hatred  shown  them,  their  only  thought,  not 
seldom,  was  to  make  as  much  as  they  could  from  their  office.  The  most 
shameless  imposition  at  the  "  receipts  of  custom,"  and  the  most  hardened 
recklessness  in  the  collection  of  excessive  or  fraudulent  charges,  became 
a  daily  occurrence.  They  repaid  the  war  against  themselves  by  a  war 
against  the  community. 

Amidst  such  a  state  of  feeling  between  rulers  and  ruled,  Jesus  grew  up 
to  manhood  and  spent  His  life.  The  sleepy  East  could  not  endure  the 
systematic  and  restless  ways  of  the  "West,  now  forced  upon  it,  and,  still 
less,  the  regular  visit  of  the  tax-gatherer,  esjaecially  under  such  a  vicious 
system  as  that  of  Rome.  War,  as  far  as  possible,  became  the  chronic 
state  of  things,  if  not  in  the  open  field,  yet  in  never-ending,  ever-beginning 
resistance,  all  over  the  land.  Even  the  mild  school  of  Hillel  justified  the 
rise  of  any  means  of  escape  from  the  robbery  of  the  "  publicans,"  and  the 
Rabbis  at  large  made  the  subject  a  standing  topic  in  their  schools.  Con- 
troversies sprang  up  in  connection  with  it.  The  Irreconcilables,  as  I  may 
call  the  Zealots,  could  not  brook  even  the  slight  concessions  to  Rome  of 
the  hitherto  popular  Pharisees.  It  was  made  a  matter  of  reproach  to 
them  that  they  put  the  name  of  the  Emperor  along  with  that  of  Moses  in 
letters  of  divorce,  and  the  dispute  was  ended  only  by  Hillcl's  party  re- 
minding its  oi^ponents  that  this  was  already  sanctioned  by  Scripture  itself, 
which  allowed  the  name  of  Pharaoh  to  stand  beside  that  of  Jehovah. 


THE  EOMAN   iTvOCURATORS.  185 

Before  Qairinius  left  Jerusalem,  he  yielded  one  point  to  the  j^coplc,  by 
saci'ificing  to  their  hati'ed  the  instrument  of  his  tyranny — tlie  high  priest, 
Joazer.  After  helping  to  get  the  census  carried  out,  and  thus  losing  all 
l)opular  respect,  the  time-serving  priest  was  stripped  of  his  dignity  by  the 
master  who  had  despised  even  while  he  made  use  of  him,  and  it  was  given 
to  Hannas,  the  son  of  Seth,  in  whose  family  it  was  held,  at  intervals,  for 
over  fifty  years.  But  though  his  house  was  thus  permanently  ennobled, 
its  taking  office  under  the  Eomans,  no  less  than  its  belonging  to  the  party 
of  the  Sadducecs,  made  it,  henceforth,  of  no  weight  in  the  destiny  of  the 
nation.  The  Zealots  were  steadily  rising  to  be  a  great  party  in  the  land. 
The  noblest  spirits  flocked  to  their  banner  most  readily,  as  we  may  judge 
when  we  remember  that  one  of  the  Apostles  had  been  a  Zealot,  and  that 
the  young  Saul  also  joined  them.  The  young  men,  especially,  swelled 
their  numbers.  "  Our  youth,"  laments  Josephus,  "  brought  the  state  to 
ruin,  by  their  fanatical  devotion  to  the  ferocious  creed  this  party  adopted." 
Its  principles  were,  indeed,  destructive  of  all  government,  as  things  were. 
"  He  who  was  under  the  Law,"  it  was  held,  "  was  free  from  all  other 
authority."  Its  members  were  pledged  to  honour  Jehovah  alone  as  King 
of  Israel,  and  neither  to  shrink  from  death  for  themselves  nor  from  mur- 
dering their  nearest  kin,  if  it  promised  to  serve  the  cause  of  liberty,  as 
they  understood  it.  The  family  of  the  fallen  Judas  remained  at  the  head 
of  these  fierce  patriots.  Two  of  his  sons  were  afterwards  crucified  for 
raising  an  insurrection,  and  while  his  third  son,  Menahem,  by  the  taking 
of  Masada,  was  the  first  to',  begin  the  final  war  against  Florus,  his  grand- 
son, Eleazar,  was  the  last  who  fought  against  the  Eomans,  burying  him- 
self,  as  has  been  told,  and  the  wreck  of  the  Zealots,  beneath  the  ruins  of 
the  fortress,  rather  than  surrender.  It  is  noteworthy,  moreover,  tliat 
from  the  date  of  the  census,  no  part  of  Palestine  was  less  safe  than  that 
which  was  directly  under  Eoman  authority.  If  the  traveller  between 
Jericho  and  Jerusalem  fell  among  robbers,  what  must  have  been  the 
danger  in  the  lonely  and  desolate  valleys  beyond  Hebron  ? 

"I'he  first  seven  years  after  the  annexation  were,  notwithstanding,  com- 
paratively happy  times  for  the  Jews.  Augustus  made  it  his  maxim  to 
spare  rather  than  destroy  the  provinces,  so  far  an  he  could  safely  do  so; 
and  he  furthered  this  policy  by  frequent  change  of  the  procurators.  As 
to  the  burning  religious  questions  raised  by  the  decay  of  heathenism,  and 
the  spread  of  Eastern  religions  in  the  empire,  he  took,  by  advice  of 
Ma3cenas,  a  middle  course.  He  supported  the  Eoman  religion,  but,  at  the 
same  time,  protected  the  special  faith  of  each  country.  Hence,  although 
he  personally  despised  foreign  religions,  and  offered  no  sacrifices  when  in 
Jerusalem,  even  while  asking  with  interest  about  the  Jewish  God,  and 
though  he  praised  his  grandson,  the  young  Caius  CaDsar,  for  passing 
through  Jerusalem  like  a  Eoman,  without  making  any  offering,  yet,  like 
Ca;sar  and  Cicero,  elsewhere,  he  would  by  no  means  do  any  violence  to 
the  Jewish  religion.  On  the  contrary,  he  yielded  to  the  wish  of  Herod,  by 
taking  the  Jews  of  the  Dispersion  under  his  protection,  as  Ca3sar  had  done, 
and  sanctioned  the  remittance  of  the  Temple  money  from  all  parts.  Be- 
sides this,  he  acted  with  the  greatest  consideration  towards  the  Jews  in 


186  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Rome ;  for  since  the  campaigns  of  Pompoy  and  Gabinins,  tlicy  had  been 
so  numerous  in  the  capital  that  they  formed  a  great  "  quarter  "  on  the 
farther  side  of  the  river.  Treating  them  as  clients  of  Cfcsar,  he  acted 
with  marked  thoughtfulness  in  all  connected  with  their  religion,  their 
morals,  or  their  prosperity.  He  formally  sanctioned  the  Jewish  Council 
in  Alexandria,  and,  after  the  annexation  of  Judea,  he  ordered  a  pei^manent 
daily  sacrifice  of  an  ox  and  two  lambs  to  be  offered  at  his  expense,  and,  in 
conjunction  with  the  Empress  Livia,  and  other  members  of  his  house,  sent 
gifts  of  precious  jars  and  vessels  for  the  use  of  the  drink-offering. 

This  policy  was  not  without  its  effect.  Augustus  got  the  fame  in  Eome 
of  being  the  patron  of  the  Jews,  and  in  the  jorovinces,  even  among  the 
Jews  themselves,  of  being  the  magnanimous  protector  of  their  religion. 
His  tolerance,  moreover,  served  an  end  which  he  did  not  contemplate.  It 
secured  the  slow  but  certain  conquest  of  the  West,  first  by  Judaism,  the 
pioneer  of  a  new  and  higher  faith,  and  then  by  Christianity — the  faith  for 
which  it  had  prepared  the  way. 

But  in  spite  of  every  desire  on  the  part  of  Augustus  to  humour  their 
peculiarities,  the  Jews  were  still  in  a  state  of  chronic  excitement.  The 
Samaritans  seeing  their  opportunity,  raised  their  heads  more  boldly. 
They  were  no  longer  dependent  on  Jerusalem,  since  tlie  banishment  of 
Archclaus.  Their  elders  rejoiced  in  political  consequence  long  denied 
them.  But  the  light  and  giddy  masses  of  the  people  could  not  make  a 
right  use  of  liberty.  Under  Copouius,  the  first  procurator  after  Archelaus 
was  deposed,  it  was  discovered  that  they  had  defiled  the  Temple  at  Jeru- 
salem 071  the  night  before  the  Passover.  The  Temple  doors,  as  was  the 
custom,  had  been  opened  at  midnight,  before  the  feast,  and  some  Samari- 
tans, knowing  this,  and  having  previously  smuggled  themselves  into 
Jerusalem,  had  crept  up  to  the  Temple  in  tlie  dai'kness,  and  strewed 
human  bones  in  the  courts,  so  tliat  the  high  priest  Hannas  had  to  turn 
away,  from  the  polluted  sanctuary,  the  worshippers  who  in  the  morning 
thronged  the  gates.  Nothing  remained  for  the  vast  multitudes  but  to  go 
back  embittered  to  their  homes,  leaving  the  Temple  to  be  purified,  but 
nothing  is  said  of  any  punishment  of  the  Samaritans.  The  procurator 
seems  only  to  have  told  the  Jews  that  they  should  have  kept  a  better  watch. 

Little  is  known  of  the  two  procurators — Marcus  Ambivius  and  Annius 
Rufus,  who  followed  Coponius — except  that  Judea,  exhausted  by  its 
burdens,  implored  their  diminution,  and  that,  under  the  first,  Salome, 
Herod's  sister,  died,  while  Augustus,  himself,  died  under  the  second. 

The  new  emperor,  Tibjerius,  on  his  accession,  sent  a  fresh  procurator, 
Valerius  Gratus,  whom,  with  his  dislike  of  change,  he  retained  in  ofiice 
for  eleven  years.  Under  him  things  went  from  bad  to  worse.  During  his 
period  of  office  he  changed  the  higli  priests  five  times,  deposing  Hannas, 
and  giving  the  office  alternately  to  one  of  his  family,  and  to  a  rival  house  of 
the  small  band  of  Sadducean  Temple  nobility.  Large  sums  no  doulit  filled 
his  coffers  at  each  transaction,  but  such  a  degradation  of  their  highest 
dignitaries  must  have  exasperated  the  Jews  to  the  quick.  After  the 
crafty  Hannas  came,  as  bis  successor,  one  Ismael,  but  his  reign  was  only 
one  year  long.     Hannas'  son,  Eleazer,  next  won  the  pontifical  mitre  for  a 


THE    EOilAN    PROCUEATORS.  187 

year ;  then  came  Simon,  but  lie,  too,  had  to  make  way  for  a  successor, 
^aiaphas,  son-in-law  of  Hannas,  afterwards  the  judge  of  Jesus.  Simon  is 
famous  in  Eabbinical  annals  for  a  misfortune  that  befell  him  in  the  night 
before  the  Day  of  Atonement.  To  while  away  the  long  hours,  during  , 
which  he  was  not  permitted  to  sleep,  he  amused  himself  by  conversation 
with  an  Arab  sheikh,  but,  to  his  dismay,  the  heathen,  in  his  hasty  utter- 
ance, let  a  speck  of  spittle  fall  on  the  priestly  robe,  and  thus  made  its 
wearer  unclean,  so  that  his  brother  had  to  take  his  place  in  the  rites  of  the 
approaching  day.  Changes  so  violent  and  corrupt  had  at  last  degraded 
the  high  priesthood  so  much  in  the  eyes  of  all,  that  the  deposed  Hannas, 
rather  than  his  successors,  was  still  regarded  as  its  true  representative. 

Meanwhile,  the  load  of  the  public  taxes  became  so  unendurable  that  a 
deputation  was  sent  to  Eome  in  the  year  17,  to  entreat  some  alleviation  of 
the  misery.  Syi'ia,  as  a  whole,  indeed,  seemed  on  the  brink  of  an  insur- 
rection, from  the  oppression  of  the  publicans.  Germanicus,  the  Emj^eror's 
nephew,  one  of  the  noblest  men  of  his  day,  was  sent  to  the  East  to  quiet 
the  troubles ;  but,  unfortunately,  with  him  was  sent,  as  Governor- General 
of  Syria,  Cneius  Piso,  his  deadly  enemy,  who  soon  involved  him  in  per- 
sonal disputes  that  well-nigh  excited  a  war  between  them.  Tiberius,  able 
and  cautious,  and  not  yet  fallen  fco  the  hatefulness  of  his  later  years,  saw 
no  remedy  for  this  state  of  things  but  in  prolonging  the  reign  of  the  pro- 
curators. "  Every  office,"  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  induces  greed,  and  if  the 
holder  enjoy  it  only  for  a  short  time,  without  knowing  at  what  moment  he 
may  have  to  surrender  it,  he  will  naturally  plunder  his  subjects  to  the 
utmost,  while  he  can.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  hold  it  for  a  lengthened 
term,  he  will  grow  weary  of  oppression,  and  become  moderate  as  soon  as 
he  has  extorted  for  himself  what  he  thinks  enough."  "  On  one  of  my 
campaigns,"  he  would  add,  by  way  of  illustration,  "  I  came  upon  a  wounded 
soldier,  lying  on  the  road,  with  swarms  of  flies  in  his  bleeding  flesh.  A 
comrade,  pitying  him,  was  about  to  drive  them  off,  thinking  him  too  weak 
to  do  it  himself.  But  the  wounded  man  begged  him  rather  to  let  them 
alone, '  for,' said  he,  '  if  you  drive  these  flies  away  you  will  dome  harm 
instead  of  good.  They  are  already  full,  and  do  not  bite  me  as  they  did, 
but  if  you  frighten  them  off,  hungry  ones  will  come  in  their  stead,  and 
suck  the  last  drop  of  blood  from  me.'  "  The  heartless  cynic  in  the  purple 
had  no  pity,  and  was  far  enough  from  a  thought  of  playing  the  Good 
Samaritan,  by  binding  up  the  wounds  of  any  of  the  races  under  him,  far 
less  those  of  the  hated  Jews.  In  Eome  itself  he  treated  them  with  the 
bitterest  harshness,  and  his  example  reacted  on  those  in  Palestine.  In  the 
year  19  he  drove  the  Jews  out  of  Eome.  "  Four  thousand  freedmen  in- 
fected with  this  superstition"  (Judaism),  says  Tacitus,  "being  able  to 
carry  arms,  were  shipped  off  to  the  island  of  Sardinia  to  put  down  the 
robber  hordes.  If  they  perished  from  the  climate  it  was  little  loss.  The 
rest  were  required  to  leave  Italy,  if  they  did  not  forswear  their  unholy 
customs  by  a  certain  day."  Suetonius  says  that  Tiberius  even  compelled 
them  to  burn  their  sacred  robes  and  utensils,  but  Josephus  boasts  that 
those  di-afted  into  the  legions  preferred  dying  as  martyrs,  to  breaking  the 
Law. 


188  THE   LIFE   OP  CHRIST. 

In  Judea,  these  measures  were  attributed  to  the  influence  of  Sejanus, 
the  hated  favourite  of  Tiberius.  It  was,  doubtless,  with  no  little  alarm 
that  the  news  came  in  the  yeav  26,  when  the  iniiuence  of  Sejanus  was  at 
its  height,  that  Valerius  Gratus  had  at  length  been  recalled,  and  Pontius 
Pilate  appointed  in  his  stead.  The  client  was  worthy  of  the  patron. 
Venal,  covetous,  cruel,  even  to  delighting  in  blood,  without  principle  or 
remorse,  and  yet  wanting  decision  at  critical  moments,  his  name  soon 
became  specially  infamous  in  Judea.  He  bore  himself  in  the  most 
offensive  way  towards  the  people  of  Jerusalem.  The  garrison  of  Antonia 
had  hitherto  always  left  the  ornaments  of  their  militai-y  standards  at  the 
head-quarters  in  Cassarea,  since  the  Jews  would  not  suffer  the  Holy  City 
to  be  profaned  by  the  presence  of  the  eagles  and  the  busts  of  the 
emperors,  of  which  they  mainly  consisted.  But  Pilate,  apparently  on  the 
first  change  of  the  garrison,  ordered  the  new  regiments  to  enter  the  city 
by  night  with  the  offensive  emblems  on  their  standards,  and  Jerusalem 
awoke  to  see  idolatrous  symbols  planted  within  sight  of  the  Temple. 
Universal  excitement  spread  through  the  city,  and  the  Eabbis  and  people 
took  mutual  counsel  how  the  outrage  could  be  removed.  The  country 
soon  began  to  pour  in  its  multitudes.  The  violent  party  counselled  force 
but  the  more  sensible  prevailed  as  yet,  and  a  multitude  of  the  citizens 
hurried  off  to  Pilate  at  Cgesarea,  to  entreat  him  to  take  away  the  cause  of 
such  bitter  offence.  But  Pilate  would  not  listen,  and  treated  the  request 
as  an  affront  to  the  Emperor.  Still  the  crowds  continued  their  appeal. 
For  five  daj^s  and  five  nights  they  beset  the  palace  of  Herod  in  which 
Pilate  resided,  raising  continually  the  same  cry,  that  the  standards  might 
be  removed.  Determined  to  end  the  matter,  he  at  last  summoned  them 
to  meet  him  on  the  seventh  day  in  the  circus.  Meanwhile,  he  had  filled 
the  spaces  round  the  arena  with  soldiers,  and  when  the  Jews  began  to 
raise  their  mutinous  cries  again,  on  his  refusing  to  yield,  he  ordered  the 
troops  to  enter  with  drawn  swords.  But  he  had  miscounted  their  fanatical 
earnestness.  Baring  their  throats,  and  kneeling  as  if  to  meet  the  sword, 
the  multitude  cried  out  that  they  would  rather  part  with  their  life  than 
their  Law.  Pilate,  dreading  the  anger  of  the  Emperor  if  he  commanded 
a  wholesale  massacre,  had  to  yield,  and  the  standards  were  withdrawn 
from  Jerusalem. 

The  power  of  Pilate  over  the  people  was  henceforth  broken.  They  had 
conquered  his  Avill  by  stronger  wills  of  their  own.  From  this  time  they 
knew  how  to  extort  concessions  from  him.  Persistent  clamour,  that  would 
take  no  refusal,  was,  henceforward,  their  most  trusted  reliance,  as  we  see 
only  too  strikingly  in  the  last  hours  of  Jesus.  But  Pilate  could  not  learn 
by  any  lesson,  however  severe.  Furious  at  his  defeat,  he  resolved  to  hide 
it  by  a  fresh  innovation,  which  he  fancied  he  could  carry  out.  The  Eabbis 
had  contended  that  their  law  did  not  allow  the  erection  of  imaores,  but 
there  seemed  nothing  to  prevent  votive  tablets  being  set  up  in  Jerusalem, 
like  those  dedicated  to  the  Emperor  by  other  officials.  He,  therefore, 
hung  golden  shields  of  this  kind  on  the  palace  on  Mount  Zion,  where  he 
lived,  iuscribed  simply  with  his  own  name  and  that  of  Tiberius.  A 
terrible  commotion  was  the  result.     At  the  next  feast,  the  Jews,  with  the 


THE    ROMAN    PEOCURATORS.  189 

four  sons  of  Herod,  Philip,  Autipas,  Herod  Boethos,  and  Phasael,  at  their 
head,  declared  that  such  symbols,  which  were  equivalent  to  altars,  were 
less  endurable  than  the  emblems  on  the  standards.  "  Cease,"  cried  they, 
as  he  fiercely  dismissed  them,  "  to  stir  up  war  and  commotion.  The 
Emperor  is  not  honoured  by  insults  offered  to  the  Law.  It  is  the  will  of 
Tiberius  that  our  laws  shall  be  respected,  but  if  not,  show  us  the  edict,  or 
new^  rescript,  which  says  otherwise,  that  we  may  send  an  embassy  re- 
specting it  to  him."  Pilate  trembled  when  he  heard  of  a  complaint  to 
Tiberius,  for  he  was  afraid,  as  Philo  tells  us,  that  a  deputation  to  Eome 
would  reveal  all  his  crimes,  "  the  venality  of  his  sentences,  his  rapacity, 
his  having  ruined  whole  families,  and  all  the  shameless  deeds  he  had 
done,  the  numerous  executions  he  had  ordered  of  persons  who  had  not 
been  condemned  by  any  tribunal,  and  the  excess  of  cruelties  of  every  kind 
committed  by  him."  He  had  gone  too  far,  however,  to  retreat,  and  had 
to  leave  matters  to  the  decision  of  the  Emperor  ;  but  as  Herod  Antipas 
had  the  ear  of  Tiberius,  and  willingly  sided  with  the  people,  the  procurator 
was  defeated  once  more.  The  command  of  Tiberius  was  directly  against 
him,  and  he  was  ordered  to  take  away  the  shields,  and  hang  them  up  in 
the  temple  of  Augustus,  at  Ctesarea.  The  Jews  consoled  themselves  that 
the  Emperor  was  gravely  offended  at  Pilate's  folly.  Henceforth,  the 
clamour  of  the  multitude  nearly  always  succeeded. 

Before  long  he  found  himself  involved  in  another  conflict  with  the 
people,  in  carrying  out  a  work  which  was  unquestionably  of  the  highest 
value  to  Jerusalem,  and  for  which  he  had  already  obtained  the  sanction 
of  the  Jewish  authorities.  The  conduit  which  supplied  the  city  and  the 
Temple  with  water,  had  grown  ruinous  from  age,  and  Pilate  undertook  to 
l)uild  a  grand  new  aqueduct,  twenty-five  miles  in  length,  which  should 
bring  a  full  and  pure  supply  for  the  Temple  and  the  citizens.  As  the 
Temple  was  to  be  benefited,  he  naturally  thought  that  he  might  defray 
the  expense  from  its  treasury,  forgetting  that  the  money  was  Corban,  or 
consecrated  to  God.  Hardly  had  the  news  of  his  intention  spread,  than, 
at  the  next  feast,  a  frantic  cry  rose  that  the  Temple  was  to  be  jjlundered, 
and  thousands  streamed  to  the  palace,  to  repeat  the  tactics  of  Cajsarea. 
But  the  procurator  had  this  time  prepared  himself  beforehand.  He  had 
scattered  numbers  of  his  soldiers,  dressed  as  Jews,  among  the  crowds, 
and  no  sooner  had  the  tumultuous  cries  begun,  than  these  assailed  those 
round  them  with  clubs,  and  speedily  drove  them  off  in  wild  terror,  leaving 
many  of  their  number,  severely  wounded,  behind.  Perhaps  it  was  about 
this  time,  when  the  works  had  been  pushed  almost  to  the  Pool  of  Siloam, 
that  the  tower,  there,  fell  and  killed  eighteen  men  :  a  calamity  attributed 
hj  the  Eabbis  to  the  wrath  of  God  at  the  secularization  of  the  Temple 
treasures.  Pilate's  aqueduct  suffered  no  more  hindrance  in  its  com- 
pletion. 


190  THE   LIFE   OF   CHBIST. 

CHAPTER    XX. 

HEROD   A?;TIPAS   AND    CIIRISt's   OWN    COUNTRT. 

OK  the  death  of  his  father  Herod,  Gahlee  fell  to  the  lot  of  Herod 
Antipas,  who  ruled  over  it  during  all  the  remaining  lifetime  of  our 
Lord,^and  for  six  years  after  His  death.  His  mother  was  the  Samaritan, 
Malthace,  so  that  he  Avas  a  full  brother  of  Archelaus,  who  was  about  a 
year  older.  He  had  been  sent  to  Eome,  for  his  education,  with  Archelaus 
and  his  half-brother  Philip,  when  a  boy  of  about  thirteen,  and  the  three 
had  been  entrusted  there  to  the  care  of  a  private  guardian.  The  evil 
genius  of  their  house,  their  half-brother  Antipater,  who  was  much  their 
senior,  was  already  living  in  the  imperial  city.  He  had  always  hated 
Archelaus  and  Philip,  as  rivals  in  his  hopes  of  the  throne,  and  now  took 
every  opportunity  to  slander  them  to  their  father,  so  that,  perhaps  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  they  were  recalled  to  Judea  in  the  year  B.C.  5.  But  this 
only  made  Antipater  the  more  deadly  in  his  hatred,  and  he  succeeded  in 
so  poisoning  their  father's  mind  against  them,  that  they  almost  dreaded 
sharing  the  fate  of  the  two  sons  of  Mariamne,  who  had  fallen  through  the 
same  fatal  influence.  Antipas,  who  had  escaped  Antipater's  wiles,  seemed 
likely  to  profit  most  by  the  misfortune,  for,  in  his  second  will,  made  after 
the  execution  of  Antipater,  Herod,  unable  to  clear  his  mind  of  the  pre- 
judice against  them,  had  passed  over  both  Archelaus  and  Philip,  and 
named  Antipas,  the  youngest,  as  his  successor.  Kindlier  thoughts,  how- 
ever, returned  before  he  actually  died,  and  a  third  will  was  made,  in  which 
Archelaus  was  named  king,  and  Antipas  and  Philip  tetrarchs,  their 
father's  dominions  being  divided  between  them. 

Antipas  had  received  his  name  in  honour  of  his  paternal  great-grand- 
father, as  Antipater,  his  half-brother,  had  received  that  of  his  grandfather- 
In  Eome,  by  a  strange  fortune,  he  had  for  a  companion  and  fellow-scholar, 
one  whose  after-life  was  very  different  from  his  own — a  lad  named 
Manaen,  who  afterwards  became  a  Christian  teacher  in  Antioch.  Antipas 
stayed  at  school,  in  Rome,  after  Archelaus  and  Philip  had  been  recalled  to 
Judea ;  his  quiet,  peace-loving  disposition  having  protected  him,  in  some 
measure,  from  the  slanders  of  Antipater,  and  from  the  distrust  of  his 
father.  He  was,  however,  by  no  means  wanting  in  ability,  else  so  shrewd 
a  man  as  Herod  would  never  have  thought  of  making  him  his  sole 
successor;  nor  could  he,  otherwise,  have  been  supported,  as  he  was, 
before  Augustus,  by  Salome  and  the  family,  and  by  the  leading  men  of 
Herod's  government,  in  his  suit  for  the  crown,  in  preference  to  Archelaus. 
That  prince,  hated  by  nearly  every  one,  found  himself  vigorously  opposed 
by  Antipas,  and  gained  his  cause  only  with  mortifying  abasements. 
Salome  and  Herod's  counsellors  may  have  put  Antipas  forward  to  serve 
their  own  ends,  but  he  had,  himself,  shown  in  the  management  of  his 
claim,  that,  if  quiet,  he  was  none  the  less  ambitious  in  a  peaceful 
way. 

When  he  entered  on  his  government,  in  the  year  B.C.  4,  he  was  about 
seventeen  years  old.     His  provinces  were  wide  apart,  for  Galilee  was  in 


HEROD   ANTIPAS   AND   CHRIST'S    OWN   COUNTRY.  191 

the  north-west,  and  Pevea  in  the  south-east  of  the  country ;  the  territoi-y 
of  the  free  towns,  known  as  Decapolis,  separating  them  completely.  They 
•were  both,  however,  so  rich,  especially  Galilee,  that  they  ranked  as  second 
in  the  paternal  inheritance. 

Under  the  wise  guidance  of  his  father's  counsellors,  Irenajus  and 
Ptolemy,  the  care  of  Antipas  was  first  turned  to  the  repair  of  his  kingdom 
— which  had  been  sadly  injured  by  the  Romans  and  Arabs  in  the  wars — 
and  to  the  necessary  security  of  his  throne.  In  the  south  of  Galilee  he 
rebuilt  and  strongly  fortified  the  town  of  Scpphoris,— which  lay  on  an 
isolated  hill,  only  two  hours  north  of  Nazareth,— making  it  his  capital, 
and  at  once  the  ornament  of  his  kingdom,  and  its  protection  against  Syro- 
Phenician,  or  even  Roman  attack.  It  had  been  taken  and  burned  to  the 
ground  by  the  son  of  the  proconsul  Varus,  who  had  marched  against  it 
from  the  neighbouring  gai'rison  town,  Ptolemais,  in  the  summer  of  the 
year  B.C.  4,  on  occasion  of  the  insurrection  of  Judas,  the  son  of  that 
Hezekiah  whom  Herod  had  juit  to  death  when  he  routed  his  band  in  the 
caverns  of  the  800  feet  high  cliffs  of  Arbela,  on  the  Sea  of  Gcnnesareth. 
Varus  had  sold  the  inhabitants  as  slaves,  but  Antipas  brought  others  and 
re-peopled  it.  Jesus,  in  His  early  childhood,  must  have  seen  the  town  in 
building,  for  it  lay,  full  in  view,  at  a  short  distance  from  the  hill-top 
behind  Nazareth,  to  which  He  often  wandered. 

Having  thus  secured  his  northern  frontier,  he  turned  to  the  opposite, 
outlying  extremity,  where  Perea  bordered  the  Nabatean  kingdom,  and  was 
exposed  to  the  Arabs,  about  half-way  down  the  eastern  edge  of  the  Dead 
Sea.  Among  the  pi'ecipitous  volcanic  cliffs  and  peaks  of  that  region,  he 
strengthened  the  fortress  of  Machaerus  by  high  walls  and  towers,  adding 
a  residence  for  himself  within  its  circuit.  The  defences,  built  at  first  by 
Alexander  Janna3us,  but  destroyed  by  the  Romans  in  the  old  Asmonean 
wars,  were  now  made  almost  impregnable,  and  Antipas  could  boast  of 
having  secured  his  kingdom  at  another  of  its  weakest  points.  He  little 
thought  that  he  himself  was  to  earn  his  darkest  stain  by  the  execution  of 
a  lonely  prisoner  within  its  walls.  But  he  did  not  trust  to  strong  walls 
alone.  He  dreaded  the  neighbouring  Arab  prince  Aretas  as  his  most 
probable  enemy,  and  allied  himself  with  him  by  marrying  his  daughter. 
To  flatter  the  empress-mother,  Livia,  whom  Salome,  at  her  death,  about 
A.D.  10-13,  had  made  her  heir,  and  his  neighbour,  he  built  a  town  which  he 
called  Livias,  on  the  site  of  the  old  Beth  Harum,  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  Prom  Salome,  Livia  had  obtained,  besides,  the  town  of  Jamnia 
and  its  district,  in  the  Philistine  plain,  and  Phasaelis  and  Archola'is  in  the 
valley  of  the  Jordan,  close  to  the  dominions  of  Antipas,  so  that  he  wished 
to  be  on  good  terms  with  her.  Besides,  Livia  was  at  the  time  in  favour 
with  the  Jews,  for  having  given  golden  jars  and  dishes,  and  other  costly 
offerings  to  the  Temple. 

In  the  first  part  of  his  reign,  under  Augustus,  from  the  year  a.d.  4  to  14, 
Antipas  maintained  a  prudent  restraint,  for  he  had  had  no  success  in  the 
single  attempt  he  ventured  towards  a  more  intimate  relation  with  the 
Emperor.  On  the  banishment  of  Archclaus  he  had  sought  to  become  his 
heir,  and  to  get  his  father's  domuiions  as  a  whole,  as  had  been  intended  in 


102  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

tlie  second  will,  and  seemingly  had  made  himself  chief  accuser  of  his  fallen 
brother,  and  of  his  government.  But  the  answer  of  Augustus  was  the 
annexation  of  Judea  to  Syria,  leaving  Antipas,  as  his  one  consolation,  the 
thought  tliat  as  he  was  now  the  only  Herod,  he  might  assume  the  name, 
as  he  seems  by  his  coins  to  have  done,  from  this  date. 

His  relations  with  Tiberius  were  more  flattering.  By  countless  proofs 
of  depen(^ence  and  obedient  fidelity,  shown,  doubtless,  in  part,  by  treacher- 
ous reports  and  espionage  on  the  proconsuls,  such  as  the  suspicious  and 
despotic  emperor  loved,  he  succeeded  at  last,  after  a  joi-obation  of  a  good 
many  j^ears,  in  gaining  great  favour  with  him.  To  show  his  gratitude, 
Antipas,  who  had  grown  tired  of  Sepphoris  for  his  capital,  far  off  among 
the  hills  of  Galilee,  on  the  borders  of  his  tetrarchy,  and  among  a  proud 
and  independent  people,  determined  to  build  a  new  one  on  the  Sea  of  Gen- 
nesareth,  near  the  hot  springs  of  Emmaus.  It  was  the  finest  part  of  his 
territory,  alike  for  richness  of  soil  and  beauty  of  landscape.  The  city  was, 
of  course,  planned  in  the  Roman  style,  and  as,  under  the  former  emperor, 
every  third  town  was  called  Ccesarea,  or  Sebaste,  the  Greek  equivalent 
of  Augustus,  the  new  metropolis  was  to  be  called  Tiberias.  The  site  chosen 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  on  the  lake,  on  a  southerly  bend  of  the  shore, 
washed  on  its  eastern  side  by  the  waves.  Yet  it  was  not,  for  the  time,  a 
fortunate  one,  for  the  reedy  strand  made  it  unhealthy,  and,  still  worse, 
traces  of  an  old  burial-place  were  found  as  the  streets  were  being  laid  out 
— a  discovery  which  at  once  brought  forward  the  Eabbis  with  entreaties 
that  the  spot  might  be  abandoned,  as  thus  at  once  unclean  and  unholy. 
But  Herod  paid  no  attention  to  the  clamour,  and,  as  soon  as  some  streets 
were  ready,  filled  the  houses  with  whatever  strangers  were  willing  to  take 
them.  Erelong,  however,  he  had  to  use  force  to  get  inhabitants,  for  no 
strict  Jew  would  settle  of  his  own  accord  in  a  place  known  to  be  polluted. 
He  was  even  driven  to  give  slaves  and  beggars  building  and  garden 
ground,  and  to  raise  houses  for  them,  and  grant  them  special  privileges, 
before  he  got  his  capital  peopled.  But  a  prejudice  clung  to  it,  which,  even 
in  after  years,  made  all  unclean  for  seven  days  after  visiting  it,  and  re- 
quired rites  of  purification  before  the  defilement  could  be  removed. 
Tiberias  is  only  once  mentioned  in  the  Gosj^els,  and  there  is  no  trace  of 
Jesus  having  ever  entered  it.  But,  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  Herod  ti'ans- 
ferred  his  residence  to  it  from  Sepphoris,  and  lavishly  decorated  his 
palace,  to  the  grief  of  the  people,  with  heathen  ornaments.  The  facade, 
which  was  adorned  by  sculptures  of  animals,  was  especially  offensive  to  the 
Eabbis.  The  interior  was  furnished  with  almost  imperial  splendour,  and 
it  was  long  rei)orted  how  the  ceilings  were  gilded,  and  what  wonderful 
candelabra  and  furniture  of  precious  metal  dazzled  the  eyes.  When  the 
palace  and  castle  were  stormed  by  the  people,  at  the  outbreak  of  the  final 
war,  lustres  of  Corinthian  brass,  splendid  tables,  and  Avhole  table-services 
of  solid  silver,  were  carried  off  as  jDlunder.  Close  to  this  castle-palace,  to 
the  additional  horror  of  the  Jews,  he  built  aii  amphitheatre,  still  to  be 
traced,  spacious  enough  for  the  greatest  assemblies.  The  city  was 
adorned,  besides,  with  Grecian  colonnades  and  marble  statues,  and,  even 
at  this  day,  ruins  of  fine  buildings  strew  the  beach — granite  columns  and 


HEROD   ANTIPAS   AND    CIIRIST's    OWN    COUNTRY.  193 

blocks  of  costly  marble,  porphyry,  and  syenite,  the  wreck  of  the  splendid 
villas  of  the  great  ones  of  Herod's  day,  when  no  heathen  luxury  had  been 
wanting. 

Still,  with  all  this  Roman  magnificence,  the  Jews  were  not  quite  for- 
gotten. A  synagogue,  large  enough  for  the  greatest  congregation,  was 
built,  apparently  by  Herod,  in  the  spacious  hall  of  which,  two  generations 
later,  the  wild  revolutionary  gatherings  of  the  Galilteans  were  held  during 
tlie  great  war  with  Rome.  Tlie  archives  of  the  province  were  transferred, 
with  the  seat  of  government,  to  Tiberias,  and  a  castle,  in  whose  arsenals 
arms  were  stored  for  70,000  men,  was  built  for  the  garrison.  For  the  next 
fifty  years..  Tiberias  was  the  undisputed  capital  of  Galilee,  and,  Caesarca 
excepted,  the  finest  city  of  Palestine.  Its  building  was  the  great  theme 
of  local  curiosity  and  interest  in  the  north,  for  the  five  years  after  Jesus 
had  reached  His  majority,  for  it  was  begun  between  a.d.  16  and  19,  and 
was  ready  for  inhabitants,  at  latest,  by  the  year  22,  and  it  lay  only  fifteen 
or  eighteen  miles  from  Nazareth.  Sepphoris  was  henceforth,  till  Nero's 
daj's,  only  the  second  town  of  the  province. 

Galilee  has  a  surpassing  interest  as  the  special  scene  of  the  ministry  of 
Jesus,  and  the  district  in  which  He  spent  nearly  all  His  life.  It  was 
through  its  cities  and  villages  that  He  is  recorded  to  have  passed,  once 
and  again,  teaching  and  preaching,  and  it  was  in  Galilee  that  He  had  most 
popular  support.  To  know  something  of  a  land  whose  air  He  thus 
breathed  so  long,  amongst  whose  people  He  was  wont  to  mingle,  and  by 
whose  best  characteristics  He  must  have  been  affected,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, is  essential  to  a  vivid  realization  of  His  life. 

The  province  lay  wholly  inland,  with  Phenicia  as  its  western,  and  partly 
its  northern  neighbour,  the  small  state  of  Ulatha  reaching,  from  where 
Phenicia  ended,  to  the  Sea  of  Merom,  on  the  north-eastern  border.  The 
Jordan  marked  its  eastern  limit,  and  Decapolis,  with  the  territory  of 
Samaria,  defined  its  southern  border.  Its  whole  extent  was  inconsider- 
aljlc,  for  it  measured  little  more  than  seven-and-twenty  miles  from  east  to 
west,  and  five-and-twenty  from  north  to  south,  its  whole  area  being  nearly 
the  same  as  that  of  Bedfordshire,  one  of  the  smallest  of  our  English 
counties.  Its  boundaries  varied,  indeed,  at  different  times,  but,  at  the 
largest,  it  was  rather  like  a  moderate  county  than  a  province.  The 
Talmud  includes  Caesarea  Philippi,  twelve  and  a  half  miles  north  of  the 
Sea  of  Merom,  in  it,  which  would  bring  it  in  a  line  with  the  precipitous 
mountain  bed  of  the  swift  Leontes,  where  that  river  turns  westward,  at  a 
I'ight  angle  to  its  former  course,  and  rushes  straight  to  the  ocean.  lu 
Christ's  day,  however,  Caesarca  Philippi  seems  to  have  belonged  to  the 
dominions  of  Philip,  rather  than  those  of  Antipas,  and  this  was  the  case, 
also,  with  the  neighbouring  district  of  Ulatha,  though  both  form  the 
natural  boundary  of  the  Galilasan  region. 

Under  these  steep  northern  slopes  extends  a  marshy  plain,  overgrown 
with  tall  reeds  and  swamp  grass,  and  left  uninhabited,  from  its  pestilential 
air.  South  of  this  the  waters  gather  to  form  Lake  Merom,  or  cl  Hulch,  over- 
grown with  thick  reeds,  through  which  the  Jordan  slowly  makes  its  way. 
The  people  of  Galilee  never  came  to  this  district  except  to  hunt  the  wild 

o 


191  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

boar  and  the  buffalo,  which  roamed  through  the  reed  beds  in  troops.  It 
was  shunned  on  account  of  the  robbers  and  fugitives,  who  were  wont  to 
hide  among  its  inaccessible  morasses  and  reed  forests.  Population  recom- 
mences only  when  this  region  is  passed,  increasing  as  the  point  is  reached 
where  the  caravan  road  between  Damascus  and  Acre  crosses  the  Jordan, 
near  the  spot  now  called  Jacob's  bridge,  and  stretches  southward  towards 
Tiberias. 

The  Sea  of  Tiberias,  on  which  that  city  stood,  was  rightly  called  the  Eye 
of  Galilee.  In  the  days  of  Christ,  even  more  than  now,  all  the  splendour 
of  nature  in  southern  lands  was  poured  on  its  shores.  Culture,  which  left 
no  spot  unproductive,  encircled  the  blue  waters,  even  yet  so  enchanting  a 
contrast  to  the  yellow  chalk  hills  that  mostly  fringe  them.  Tlie  western 
shore  is  still  bright  with  many-coloured  vegetation,  while,  on  the  east,  the 
steep  hills  that  sink  to  the  water's  edge  are  bare  and  gloomy  volcanic 
rocks.  The  richest  spot  on  the  lake  is  the  plain  of  Gennesareth,  where,  in 
our  Lord's  day,  all  the  fruits  of  Palestine  abounded.  Even  the  hills  were 
then  covered  with  trees.  CyiDresses,  oaks,  almonds,  firs,  figs,  cedars,  cit- 
rons, olives,  myrtles,  palms,  and  balsams,  are  enumerated  by  a  contem- 
porary of  Jesus  as  adorning  the  valleys  or  hills.  The  now  bare  landscape 
was  then  a  splendid  garden.  Oleander  bushes,  with  flowers  of  the  loveliest 
colours,  figs,  vines,  grain-fields,  and  soft  meadows  fringed  the  banks,  and, 
while  fruit-trees  and  olives  covered  the  hills,  the  shores  Avere  dotted  with 
waving  palms. 

The  lake  is  shaped  almost  like  a  pear,  the  broad  end  towards  the  north. 
Its  greatest  width  is  sis  and  three-quarter  miles,  and  its  extreme  length 
twelve  and  a  quarter.  In  Christ's  day,  the  western  shore  was  thickly 
dotted  with  towns  and  villages,  which  the  Gospels  will,  hereafter,  bring 
repeatedly  before  us.  The  eastern  side  has  always  been  less  populous, 
but  even  it  had  towns  at  every  opening  of  the  dark  basaltic  hills,  the 
outworks  of  the  Gaulonitish  range,  which  press  close  to  the  water's 
edge. 

East  of  the  Jordan,  and  half-way  dov,ai  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake,  a 
strip  of  upland  plateau,  about  four  miles  in  width,  and  thii'teen  long,  was 
included  in  Galilee,  but  it  was  of  little  value.  South-west  of  the  lake, 
between  the  northern  uplands  and  the  range  of  Carmel,  stretciied  out  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon,  the  market  of  Galilee.  Beyond  other  parts  of  the 
province,  this  great  plain  was  crowded  with  life,  and  covered  with  fruitful 
fields,  vineyards,  and  orchards,  in  the  days  of  our  Lord.  Jewish  writers 
are  never  tired  of  praising  Galilee  as  a  whole.  Its  climate,  they  said,  was 
a  well-nigh  ^ocrpctual  spring,  its  soil  the  most  fertile  in  Palestine,  its  fruits 
renowned  for  their  sweetness.  For  sixteen  miles  round  Sepphoris,  and, 
therefore,  round  Nazareth,  its  near  neighbour,  the  land,  it  w^as  boasted, 
flowed  with  milk  and  honey.  The  whole  province,  in  fact,  was,  and  is, 
even  still,  fall  of  verdure,  and  rich  in  shade  and  pleasantness ;  the  true 
country  of  the  Song  of  Songs,  and  of  the  lays  of  the  well-beloved.  It  was 
in  a  region  where  rich  woods  crowned  the  higher  hills  and  mountains  ; 
where  the  uplands,  gentle  slojDes,  and  broader  valleys,  were  rich  in  pas- 
tui-es,  cultivated  fields,  vineyards,  olive  groves,  and  orchards,  and  the  palm 


HEROD   ANTIPAS   AND    CHRIST's    OWN    COUNTRY.  195 

groves  of  whose  -warmer  parts  were  praised  even  by  foreigners,  that  Jesus 
spent  nearly  all  His  life. 

The  main  products  of  this  delightful  province,  in  the  days  of  Christ, 
were  the  fish  of  Gennesareth,  and  the  wheat,  wine,  and  olive  oil,  which  the 
Tv'hole  land  yielded  so  richly.  Gischala,  a  tov/n  in  northci'n  Galilee,  owed 
its  name  to  the  "  fat  soil"  of  its  district ;  and  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  on 
part  of  which  Nazareth  looked  down,  was  famous  for  its  heavy  crops  of 
wheat.  Jesus,  indeed,  lived  in  the  centre  of  a  region  famous  for  its 
grain  and  oil.  Farmers,  and  grape  and  olive-growers  formed  the  richer 
classes  around  Him,  and  He  was  familiar  with  noisy  market  days,  vfhen 
buyers  came  from  all  parts  to  the  towns  and  villages,  to  trade  for  the 
teeming  rural  wealth.  Magdala,  on  the  Lake  of  Gennesareth,  drove  a 
flourishing  trade  in  doves,  for  the  sacrifices ;  no  fewer  than  three  hundred 
shops,  it  is  said,  being  devoted  to  their  sale.  There  were  indigo  planters 
also  in  its  neighbourhood,  then,  as  now.  AVoollen  clothmaking  and  dyeing 
throve  in  it,  for  it  had  eighty  clothmakers,  and  a  part  of  the  tovni  was 
known  as  that  of  the  dyers.  Arbela,  not  far  off,  beside  the  hill  caves, 
was  no  less  noted  for  its  clothmaking.  Flax  was  grown  widely,  and 
woven  by  women  into  the  finest  kinds  of  linen.  Kefr  Hananiah — the 
village  of  Hananiah —  in  the  centre  of  Galilee,  was  the  pottery  district  of 
the  province,  and  was  famous  for  its  earthenware,  and  especially  for  its 
jars  for  olive  oil,  which  were  necessarily  in  great  demand  in  so  rich  an  oil 
country. 

Shut  in  from  the  sea-coast,  as  the  Jewish  territory  had  been  in  all  ages, 
the  Galitean,  looking  down  from  his  hills,  saw,  to  the  west,  the  home  of 
another  and  a  very  different  race.  The  glittering  white  sand  on  the  shore, 
and  the  smoking  chimneys  of  the  glass  manufactories  rising  from  many 
points  ;  the  dingy  buildings  of  Tyre,  a  contrast  to  the  white  walls  of  his 
own  mountain  home,  and  a  sign  of  the  busy  industries,  the  weaving,  dyeing, 
and  much  else  which  there  flourished ;  the  ceaseless  traSic,  both  by  sea 
and  land,  to  and  from  this  great  centre  of  commerce,  reminded  him  that  the 
Hebrew  woi-ld  ended  with  his  hills,  and  that  on  the  coast  jilain  beneath  them 
that  of  the  Greco-Phenician  race  began.  Yet,  there  were  many  cities,  and 
market  towns,  and  villages,  in  his  own  hills  and  valleys— Gischala  on  the 
northern  slopes  of  the  4,000  feet  high  Djebel  Djermak,  and  Eama  on  the 
southern ;  Sepphoris  crowning  its  hill  of  900  feet ;  the  strong  hill  fortress 
of  Jotapata,  overlooking  the  plain  of  Eattauf  on  the  north  side  of  the 
ISTazareth  ridge;  with  Cana  of  Galilee  on  its  northern  edge,  and  Rimmon 
on  its  southern.  All  these,  or  the  heights  under  which  they  nestled,  were 
every-day  sights  to  Jesus  from  the  round  sximmit  behind  His  own  highland 
Nazareth,  and  they  were  only  a  few  that  might  be  named.  Looking  south, 
over  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  on  its  further  edge  lay  Legio,  the  old  Megiddo, 
where  the  good  king  Josiah  fell  in  battle,  amidst  such  slaughter  and  lamen- 
tation,  that  Zechariah,  more  than  a  hundred  years  later,  could  find  no 
better  picture  of  "  the  land  mourning,  every  family  apart,"  than  the 
"  mourning  in  the  valley  of  Megiddon,"  and  that  even  the  Apocalypse 
places  the  great  final  conflict,  in  Armageddon, — the  Hill  of  Megiddo.  The 
windings  of  the  torrent  Kishon  carried  with  it  the  memories  of  another 


196  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

great  historical  battle,  when  the  host  of  Sisera,  thrown  helpless  by  a 
sudden  flood,  perished  before  Barak  and  Deborah.  In  the  east  of  the  plain 
rose,  on  its  slope,  the  pleasant  Jezreel,  once  Ahab's  ca]iital,  where  Naboth 
had  his  vineyard,  and  the  dogs  licked  the  blood  of  the  hanghty  Jezebel. 
Clustered  round  a  spur  of  the  hills  of  Gilboa,  which  rose  1,800  feet  above 
the  sea-level,  halfway  between  Jezreel  and  Tabor,  lay,  on  the  different 
sides,  the  villaore  of  Suncm,  Avhere  Elisha  lived  Avith  the  Shunammite 
widow,  and  the  birthplace  of  Abishag,  the  fairest  maiden  in  the  kingdom  of 
David — ISTain,  where  the  young  man  was  one  day  to  rise  up  again,  alive, 
from  his  bier— and  Endor — "the  fountain  of  the  people  round" — where 
Saul  saw  the  shade  of  Samuel.  Close  to  the  hill,  on  its  southern  side, 
bubbling  up  in  a  hollow  of  the  rock,  was  the  Spring  of  Trembling,  where 
Gideon's  test  sent  away  all  but  the  stout-hearted  three  hundred  who  won 
the  great  "  day  of  Midian,"  the  prophetic  prototype  of  the  triumph  of  the 
"  Prince  of  Peace."  On  the  south  side  of  the  ravine  down  which  the  spring 
flowed,  rose  the  hills  of  Gilboa,  where  Saul  and  his  three  sons  fell  in 
battle.  Where  the  rocky  gorge,  sinking  steeply,  opens  a  few  miles  beyond, 
to  the  east,  into  a  pleasant  mountain  valley,  watered  by  Gideon's  spring, 
now  swollen  to  a  brook,  lay  the  town  of  Bethshean  or  Scythopolis,  to  the 
walls  of  which  the  bodies  of  Saul  and  of  his  three  sons,  Jonathan  among 
them,  were  hung  up  in  triumph  by  the  victorious  Philistines. 

The  view  from  the  ISTazareth  hills  swept  over  all  this  landscape,  but  it 
embraced  much  more.  Josephus  says  that  there  were  two  hundred  and 
forty  towns  and  villages  in  Galilee,  and  fifteen  fortresses.  Tabor,  Sep- 
phoris,  and  Jotapata,  were  among  them,  in  Christ's  own  district,  and  Safed 
and  Ca3sarea  Philippi  within  the  sweep  of  His  view.  St.  Mark  speaks  of 
towns,  villages,  and  farmhouses  on  the  Galitean  hill-sides.  Not  a  spot  of 
ground  was  left  idle,  and  the  minute  division  of  the  soil,  from  the  dense 
population,  had  caused  the  plough  often  to  give  way  to  the  spade. 
Pasture  land  was  turned  into  fields,  as  more  profitable  than  cattle  or  even 
flocks,  which  were  left  to  graze  the  mountains  of  Syria,  and  the  barren  hills 
of  Judea.  The  rich  dark  soil  of  Esdraelon  bore  magnificent  Indian  corn 
and  wheat,  and  the  hill-sloi^es  on  its  sides  were  noted  for  their  wine,  and 
the  rich  yield  of  their  olive  gardens  and  vineyards.  The  Rabbis,  in  their 
hyperbolical  way,  say  that  one  waded  in  oil  in  Galilee.  "  It  never  suffers 
from  want  of  people,"  saj^s  Josephus,  "  for  its  soil  is  rich,  with  trees  of  all 
kinds  on  it,  and  its  surpassing  fertility  yields  a  splendid  return  to  the 
farmer.  The  ground  is  worked  with  the  greatest  skill,  and  not  a  spot  left 
idle.  The  ease  with  which  life  is  supported  in  it,  moreover,  has  over- 
spread it  with  towns  and  well-peopled  villages,  many  of  them  strongly 
fortified.  The  smallest  has  over  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants."  The  ease 
with  which  Josephus  levied  100,000  Galilasan  troops  seems  to  indicate  a 
population  of,  perhaps,  two  millions,  and  the  general  prosperity  is  shown 
in  the  readiness  with  which  Herod  raised  a  Eoman  contribution  of  100 
talents  in  Galilee,  as  compared  with  Judea. 

The  pictures  in  the  Gospels  support  this  description.  Everywhere  the 
scene  is  fall  of  life.  Busy  labour  enlivens  the  vineyard,  or  ploughs  the 
field,  or  digs  the  garden.     In  the  towns,  building  is  going  on  vigorously  : 


THE   GALILEANS   AND   THE   BORDER   LANDS.  197 

the  extra  mill-stone  lies  ready  beside  the  mill :  the  bams  are  filled  and 
new  ones  about  to  be  built :  vineyards  stretch  along  the  ten-aced  hillsides, 
and  outside  the  town  are  seen  the  whitewashed  stones  of  the  cemeteries. 
On  the  roads,  and  beside  the  hedges,  the  blind  and  cripple  await  the  gifts 
of  passers-by :  labourers  are  being  hired  in  the  market-places,  and  the 
farm  servant  wends  homewards  in  the  evening  with  his  plough  :  the  songs 
and  dance  of  light-hearted  youth  on  the  village  green  are  heard  from  a 
distance  :  the  children  play  and  strive  in  open  places  of  the  towns  :  visitors 
knock  at  closed  doors  even  late  in  the  night :  and  the  drunken  upper 
servant  storms  at  and  maltreats  the  maids.  From  morninoj  to  nisjht  the 
hum  of  many-coloured  lusty  life  everywhere  rises :  the  busy  crowds  have 
no  time  to  think  about  higher  things.  One  has  bought  a  field  and  naust 
go  to  see  it,  another  has  to  prove  a  new  yoke  of  oxen,  and  a  third  has  some 
other  business — a  feast,  a  marriage,  or  a  funeral.  To  use  our  Lord's  words, 
they  ate,  they  drank,  they  bought,  they  sold,  they  planted,  they  builded, 
they  married  wives  and  were  given  in  marriage,  as  full  of  the  world  in 
its  ambitions,  cai'es,  labours  and  pleasures,  as  if  the  little  moment  of  their 
lives  vv'ere  to  last  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    GALILjEANS   AND   THE   BORDER  LANDS. 

GALILEE  got  its  name  as  the  circle  or  region  of  the  Gentile  nations, 
and  hence,  to  the  southern  Jews  of  Isaiah's  days,  it  was  "the 
heathen  country."  It  included  the  districts  assigned  to  Asher,  ISTaphtali, 
Zebulon,  and  Issachar.  But  these  tribes  never  obtained  entire  possession 
of  their  territories,  and  contented  themselves  with  settling  among  the 
Canaanite  jiopulatiou,  whom  they,  in  some  cases,  made  tributary, — the 
Jewish  colonies  remaining  centres  of  Judaism  in  places  which  retained 
their  old  heathen  names.  Kedesh  in  Naphtali,  near  Lake  Merom,  the 
birthplace  of  Earak,  with  twenty  small  cities  lying  round  it,  was, 
originally,  "  tne  land  of  Galilee  "  in  Joshua's  time,  and  in  the  days  of  the 
kings,  from  the  population  mainly  belonging  to  the  neighbouring  Phenicia; 
but  the  mixed  character  of  the  people,  which  was  a  necessary  consequence 
of  Galilee  being  a  border-land,  extended  the  name,  in  the  end,  to  the  whole 
of  the  province.  Even  in  Solomon's  time  the  population  was  mixed.  The 
hilly  district,  called  Cabul — "  dry,  sandy,  unfruitful " — which  he  gave  to 
Hiram,  king  of  Tyre,  as  a  niggardly  return  for  service  rendered  in  the 
building  of  the  Temple,  contained  twenty  towns,  inhabited  chiefly  by 
Phenicians,  but  was  so  worthless  that  Hiram,  in  contemptnous  ridicule, 
playing  on  the  name  of  the  district,  called  it,  in  Phenician,  Chabalon — 
"  good  for  nothing."  The  separation  from  the  House  of  David,  and  from 
Jerusalem,  under  the  kings  of  Israel,  and  the  Assyrian  captivity  at  a 
later  date,  further  affected  the  northern  poj)ulation.  To  the  prophet 
Isaiah  they  were  the  people  "  that  walked  in  darkness  and  dwelt  in  the 
laud  of  the  shadow  of  death,"  alike  from  their  separation  from  Jerusalem, 


198  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

their  living  among  the  heathen,  and  their  national  calamities,  though  he 
anticipates  a  bright  future  for  them  in  the  light  of  the  Messiah.  After 
the  exile  two  great  changes  took  place.  Jewish  colonists  gradually  spread 
over  the  land  once  more,  and  the  name  Galilee  was  extended  to  the  whole 
north  on  this  side  of  the  Jordan,  so  that  the  territory  of  the  tribe  of 
Issachar,  with  the  plain  of  Esdraelon ;  Zebulon,  with  the  southern  part 
of  the  Sea  of  Gennesareth  ;  and  ISTaphtali,  and  Aslier,  were  included  in  it. 
The  new  Jewish  settlers  had  no  longer  any  political  jealousy  of  Jerusalem, 
and  once  more  frequented  the  Temple,  while  the  fact  that  they  were 
surrounded  by  heathen  races  made  them,  perliaps,  more  loyal  to  Judaism 
than  they  otherwise  would  have  been ;  just  as  the  Protestants  of  Ireland 
are  more  intensely  Protestant  because  surrounded  by  Romanism.  Still, 
though  faithful,  their  land  was  "defiled"  by  heathen  citizens  and  neigh- 
bours, and  the  narrow  bigotry  of  Judea  looked  askance  at  it  from  this 
cause.  Besides  Jews,  it  had  not  a  few  Phenicians,  Syrians,  Arabs,  and 
Greeks  settled  in  it.  Carmel  had  become  almost  a  Syrian  colony,  and 
Kedesh  retained  the  mixed  population  it  had  had  for  ages,  while  the 
eastern  end  of  the  Esdraelon  valley  was  barred  to  the  Jew  by  the  Gentile 
town  of  Scythopolis, — the  ancient  Bethshean.  Moreover,  the  great  caravan 
road,  from  Damascus  to  Pfcolemais,  which  ran  over  the  hills  from  Caper- 
naum, through  the  heart  of  Galilee,  brouglit  many  heathen  into  the 
country.  The  great  ti'ansport  of  goods  employed  such  numbers  of  them, 
as  camel  drivers,  hostlers,  labourers,  conductors,  and  the  like,  that  the 
towns  facing  the  sea  were  little  different  from  those  of  Phenicia.  Thus 
Zebulon  is  described  as  "a  town  with  many  very  fine  houses,  as  good  as 
those  of  Tyre,  or  Sidon,  or  Berytus."  The  places  created  or  beautified  by 
the  Herods  in  Roman  style,  could  hardly  have  been  so  if  the  population 
had  been  strict  Jews.  The  attempt  to  build  heathen  cities  like  Tiberias, 
or  the  restored  Sepphoris,  Avould  have  excited  an  insurrection  in  Judea, 
but  the  less  narrow  Galilreans  allowed  Antipas  to  please  his  fancy;  nor 
was  there  ever,  apparently,  such  a  state  of  feeling  caused  by  all  his  Roman 
innovations  as  was  roused  by  the  amphitheatre  at  Jerusalem  alone. 
Separated  by  Samaria  from  the  desolate  hills  of  Judea,  the  home  of  the 
priests  and  Rabbis,  the  Galila^ans  were  less  soured  by  the  sectarian  sjDirit 
paramount  thei-e,  and  less  hardened  in  Jewish  orthodoxy,  while,  in  many 
respects,  they  had  caught  the  liberal  influences  round  them  in  the  north. 
Hence  their  Judaism  was  less  exclusive  and  narrow  than  that  of,  pei^haps, 
any  other  section  of  the  Jewish  world. 

But  though  less  bigoted  than  their  southern  brethren,  the  GalilaDan 
Jews  were  none  the  less  faithful  to  the  Law.  They  frequented  the  feasts 
at  Jerusalem  in  great  numbers,  and  were  true  to  their  synagogues,  and  to 
the  hopes  of  Israel.  Pharisees  and  "  doctors  of  the  Law  "  were  settled  in 
every  town,  and  their  presence  implies  an  equally  wide  existence  of  syna- 
gogues. In  the  south,  tradition  was  held  in  supreme  honour,  but  in 
Galilee  the  people  kept  by  the  Law.  In  Jerasalem  the  Rabbis  introduced 
refinements  and  changes,  but  the  Galilgeans  would  not  tolerate  novelties. 
Our  Lord's  wide  knowledge  of  Scripture,  His  reverence  for  the  Law,  and 
His  scoi'u  of  tradition,  were  traits  of  His  countrymen  as  a  race. 


THE  GALILEANS  AND  THE  BOEDER  LAND  J.       199 

Nor  did  tbeir  forbearance,  in  the  presence  of  heathen  fashions  and  ways 
of  thought,  affect  their  morals  for  evil,  any  more  than  their  religion.  lu 
many  respects  these  "vvere  stricter  than  those  of  Judea  :  much,  for  example, 
was  forbidden  in  Galilee,  in  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes,  which  was  allowed 
at  Jerusalem.  Their  religion  was  freer,  but  it  was  also  deeper ;  they  had 
less  of  the  form,  but  more  of  the  life. 

"Cowardice,"  says  Josephus,  "was  never  the  fault  of  the  Galilgeans. 
They  are  inured  to  war  from  their  infancy,  nor  has  the  country  ever  been 
wanting  in  great  numbers  of  brave  men."  The  mountain  air  they  breathed 
made  them  patriots,  but  their  patriotism  was  guided  by  zeal  for  their 
faith.  While  warmly  loyal  to  Herod,  in  gratitude  for  his  subduing  the 
lawless  bands  who  had  wasted  their  country,  after  the  civil  wars, — and 
quiet  and  well-disposed  to  Antipas,  during  the  forty-three  years  of  his 
reign,  they  were  none  the  less  fixed  in  their  abhorrence  of  Kome,  the 
heathen  tyrant  of  their  race.  In  revolt  after  revolt  they  were  the  first  to 
breast  the  Eoman  armies,  and  they  were  the  last  to  defend  the  ruins  of 
Jerusalem,  stone  by  stone,  like  worthy  sons  of  those  ancestors  who 
"jeopardised  their  lives  unto  the  death  in  the  high  places  of  the  field." 
There  were  families  like  that  of  the  Zealot  Hezekia,h,  and  Judas  the 
Galilasan,  in  whom  the  hatred  of  Eome  was  handed  down  from  father  to 
children,  and  which,  in  each  generation,  furnished  martyrs  to  the  national 
cause.  A  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  the  youth  of  Galilee  fell  in  the 
last  struggle  with  Eome,  and  few  narratives  are  more  stirring  than  the 
defence  of  the  Galila:an  fortresses,  one  after  another,  in  the  face  of  all  odds. 
Even  Titus  appealed  to  the  magnificent  heroism  of  these  defenders  of  their 
freedom  and  their  country,  to  rouse  the  ardour  of  his  own  army.  ISTor 
was  their  devotion  to  their  leaders  less  admirable.  Josephus  boasts  of 
the  heartiness  and  trust  the  Galila;ans  reposed  in  him.  Though  their 
towns  were  destroyed  in  the  war,  and  their  wives  and  children  carried  off, 
they  were  more  concerned  for  the  safety  of  their  general  than  for  their 
own  troubles. 

The  Jew  of  the  south,  wrapped  in  self-importance,  as  living  in  or  near 
the  holy  city,  amidst  the  schools  of  the  Eabbis,  and  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Temple,  and  full  of  religious  pride  in  his  assumed  superior  knowledge 
of  the  Law,  and  greater  purity  as  a  member  of  a  community  nearly  wholly 
Jewish,  looked  down  on  his  Galila3an  brethren.  The  very  ground  he  trod 
was  more  holy  tha.n  the  soil  of  Galilee,  and  the  repugnance  of  the  North 
to  adopt  the  prescrijjtions  of  the  Eabbis  was,  itself,  a  ground  of  estrange- 
ment and  self-exaltation.  He  could  not  believe  that  the  Messiah  could 
come  from  a  part  so  inferior,  for  "  the  Law  was  to  go  forth  from  Ziou, 
and  the  word  of  the  Lord  from  Jerusalem."  Jesus  found  willing  hearers 
and  many  disciples  in  the  cities  and  towns  of  Galileo,  but  He  made  little 
impression  on  Judea. 

Yet,  Galilee,  from  the  earliest  times,  had  vindicated  its  claims  to  honour, 
for  the  intellectual  vigour  of  its  people.  Not  only  physically  and  morally, 
but  even  in  mental  freshness  and  force,  it  was  before  the  narrow  and 
morljid  south,  v/hich  had  given  itself  up  to  the  childish  trifling  of  Eab- 
binism.     The  earliest  poeti'y  of  Israel  rose  among  the  Galikran  hills,  when 


200  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

Barak  of  Naplitali  had  tfiumplied  over  the  Cauaanites.  Tlic  Song  of 
Songs  was  composed  in  Galilee  by  a  poet  of  nature,  whose  heart  and  eyes 
drank  in  the  inspiration  of  the  bright  sky  and  the  opening  flowers,  and 
who  could  tell  how  the  fig-tree  put  forth  its  leaves,  and  the  vine  sprouted, 
and  the  pomegranate  opened  its  blossoms.  Hosea,  the  prophet,  belonged 
to  Issachar;  Jonah  to  Zebulon;  ISTahum  came  from  Elkosh  in  Galilee; 
and  in  the  Gospels  a  noble  band  of  Galilseans  group  themselves  round  the 
central  figure— Peter,  the  brave  and  tender-hearted — James  and  John — 
Andrew  and  Philip — and  ISTathanael,  of  Cana,  not  to  speak  of  others,  or  of 
the  women  of  Galilee,  who  honoured  themselves  by  ministering  to  Christ 
of  their  substance.  It  was  from  Galilee,  moreover,  that  the  family  of  the 
great  Apostle  of  the  heathen  emigrated  to  Tarsus,  in  Oilicia,  for  they 
belonged  to  Gischala,  a  Galila3an  town,  though  their  stock  originally  was 
of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin. 

The  Talmud  sketches,  in  a  few  words,  the  contrast  between  the  two 
provinces — "  The  Galilasan  loves  honour,  and  the  Jewnioney."  The  Eabbis 
admit  that  the  Galilajans,  in  their  comparative  poverty,  were  temperate, 
pure,  and  religious.  Their  fidelity  to  their  faith  was  shown  by  their  fond 
and  constant  visits  to  the  Temple,  in  spite  of  the  hostile  Samaritan 
territory  between,  and  it  was  through  their  zeal  that  the  Passover  was 
celebrated  for  eight  days  instead  of  seven.  "When  Christ  appeared,  they 
threw  the  same  ardour  and  fidelity  into  His  service.  In  their  midst  the 
Saviour,  persecuted  elsewhere,  took  constant  refuge.  They  threw  open 
their  land  to  Him,  as  a  safe  shelter  from  the  rage  of  the  Jews,  almost  to 
the  last.  He  went  forth  from  among  them,  and  gathered  the  first-fruits 
of  His  kingdom  from  them,  and  it  was  to  a  band  of  Galilgeans  that  He 
delivered  the  commission  to  spread  the  Gospel  through  the  world,  after 
His  death. 

The  district  of  Perea,  on  the  east  of  the  Jordan,  was  included,  with 
Galilee,  in  the  section  ruled  over  by  Herod  Antipas,  and  was  the  scene, 
in  part,  of  the  ministry,  first  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  then  of  Jesus.  It 
was  larger  than  Galilee,  extending,  north  and  south,  from  the  city  of  Pella, 
to  the  fortress  of  Machaerus — that  is,  from  opj^osite  Scythopolis,  half-way 
down  the  Dead  Sea — and,  east  and  west,  from  the  Jordan  to  Philadelphia, 
the  ancient  Eabbath  Ammon.  It  was  thus  about  seventy-five  miles  in 
length,  by,  perhaps,  thirty  in  breadth,  though  the  boundaries  seem  to  have 
varied  at  different  times.  It  was  much  less  fertile  than  Galilee.  "  The 
greater  part  of  it,"  says  Josephus,  "is  a  desert,  rough,  and  much  less 
suitable  for  the  finer  kinds  of  fruits  than  Galilee.  In  other  parts,  however, 
it  has  a  moist  soil,  and  produces  the  widest  variety,  and  its  plains  are 
planted  with  trees  of  all  sorts ;  though  the  olive,  the  vine,  and  the  palm- 
tree  are  cultivated  most.  It  is  well  watered  in  these  parts  with  torrents, 
which  flow  from  the  mountains,  and  are  never  dry,  even  in  summer." 
Towards  the  deserts,  which  hemmed  it  in  along  its  eastern  edge,  lay  the 
hill  fortress  and  town  Gerasa,  1,800  feet  above  the  sea  level.  It  was  on 
the  caravan  road  through  the  mountains,  from  Bozra,  a  place  of  consider- 
able trade;  while  its  magnificent  ruins  yet  show  that,  in  Christ's  day,  it 
was  the  finest  city  of  the  Dccapolis.     Two  hundred  and  thirty  pillars,  still 


THE    GALILEANS   AND   THE   BOEDEB   LANDS.  201 

standing,  aud  tlie  wreck  of  its  pilljlic  buildings, — baths,  theatres,  temples, 
cii'cus,  and  forum,  and  of  a  triumphal  arch — make  it  easy  to  recall  its 
former  splendour.  The  line  of  the  outer  walls  cau  be  easily  traced.  From 
the  triumphal  arch,  outside  the  city,  a  long  street  passes  through  the  city 
gate  to  the  forum,  still  skirted  by  fifty-seven  Ionic  columns.  Colonnades 
adorned  mile  after  mile  of  the  streets,  which  crossed  at  right  angles,  like 
those  of  an  American  town. 

It  must  have  been  a  gay,  as  well  as  a  busy  and  splendid  scene,  when 
Jesus  passed  through  the  country  on  His  Pcrcan  journeys. 

But  the  tide  of  civilized  life  has  ebbed,  and  left  Gerasa  without  an 
inhabitant  for  many  centuries. 

About  twenty-five  miles  south  of  Gerasa,  and,  like  it,  between  twenty 
and  thirty  miles  east  of  the  Jordan,  lay  Philadelphia.  It  was  the  old 
capital  of  Amnion,  and  in  Christ's  day,  the  southern  frontier  post  against 
the  Arabs.  Though  tAVO  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  it 
sheltered  itself  in  two  narrow  valleys,  each  brightened  by  flov/ing  streams 
— the  upland  "  city  of  the  waters,"  with  hills  rising  on  all  sides  round  it. 
The  main  stream,  faced  with  a  long  stone  quay;  terraces  rising  above, 
lined  by  rows  of  pillars ;  the  citadel,  seen  far  and  near,  on  a  height  be- 
tween the  two  valleys,  give  us  a  glimpse  of  it.  The  old  city  which  Joab 
besieged,  and  where  Uriah  fell,  had  given  place  to  a  Roman  one.  Fine 
temples,  theatres,  and  public  and  private  buildings,  long  ruined,  were  then 
alive  with  motley  throngs,  but  the  whole  scene  has  now,  for  ages,  been 
utterly  deserted,  and  rank  vegetation  rises  in  its  long  silent  streets,  and  in 
the  courts  of  its  temples  and  mansions. 

Hesbon,  about  fifteen  miles  nearly  south  of  Ammon,  on  the  Roman  road 
which  ran  from  Damascus,  through  Bozra  aud  Ammon,— branching  from 
Hesbon,  west,  to  Jericho,  and  south,  to  Edom, — was  the  third  and  last 
frontier  town  of  Perea.  It  lay  among  the  Pisgah  mountains,  three  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  amidst  brown  hills,  fretted  with  bright 
green  lines  along  the  course  of  numerous  streamlets,  oozing  from  the  lime- 
stone rocks.  Its  ruins  lie  in  great  confusion,  and  serve  only  to  tell  of 
wealth  and  prosperity  long  since  passed  away.  In  the  valley  below,  a 
great  volume  of  water  gushing  from  the  rock,  once  filled  the  famous  pools 
of  Hesbon, — to  the  v/riter  of  the  Song  of  Songs,  like  the  laughing  eyes  of 
his  beloved.  From  Hesbon,  the  eye  ranges  over  a  wide  table-land  of  un- 
dulating downs,  bright  with  flowers,  or  rough  with  prickly  shrubs,  seamed 
with  gorges  sinking  abruptly  towards  the  Jordan,  and  noisy  with  foaming 
streams  which  leap  from  ledge  to  ledge  in  their  swift  descent,  between 
banks  hidden  by  rank  vegetation. 

These  three  towns  lie  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  lofty  plateau,  east  of  the 
Jordan,  where  the  long  wall  of  the  limestone  hills  of  Gilead  and  Ammon 
begins  to  sink  towards  the  desert.  On  the  western  edge  of  the  plateau 
itself,  nearer  the  Jordan,  and  at  the  north  of  the  district,  lay^ella,  on  a  low 
flat  hill,  only  2-50  feet  above  the  sea-level ;  rich  in  living  waters,  and  em- 
bosomed in  other  higher  hills.  Built  as  a  military  post,  by  veterans  of 
Alexander's  army,  it  bore  the  name  of  their  old  Macedonian  capital.  It 
was  afterwards  famous  as  the  retreat  of  the  Christians  before  the  fall  of 


202  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

Jerusalem ;  and  as  the  lioiiie  of  the  relations  of  Christ,  the  last  of  whom 
died  as  fifteenth  bishop  of  the  local  church.  The  storm  of  the  great  vv^ar, 
which  wasted  Perea  on  every  side,  passed  harmlessly  by  Pella,  leaving  it 
and  the  infant  Church  untouched.  With  v/hat  fond  regards  must  Jesus 
have  often  looked  from  across  the  Jordan,  on  the  spot  which  one  day  was 
to  shelter  His  servants. 

North  of  Pella,  twelve  hundred  feet  above  the  sea-level,  on  the  edge  of 
the  deeo  cleft  through  which  the  Hieromax  flows  to  the  Sea  of  Tiberias, 
stood  Gadara,  a  place  famous  in  Christ's  day  for  its  hot  sulphurous  baths. 
It  had  been  rebuilt  by  Pompey,  after  having  lain  for  a  time  in  ruins,  and 
gloried  in  its  streets  paved  with  basalt,  its  colonnades  of  Corinthian  pillars, 
and  its  massive  buildings  in  Eoman  style,  amidst  which  Jesus  may  have 
walked, — for  it  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  town  that  He  cured  the 
two  men  possessed  with  devils.  Numerous  tombs  hewn  in  the  hills  around, 
still  illustrate  a  striking  feature  of  the  Gospel  narratives. 

Gadara  and  Pella  are  both  on  the  western  side  of  the  long  range  of 
the  mountains  of  Gilead — the  old  territory  of  Eeuben  and  Gad— which 
stretch  along  the  eastern  side  of  the  Jordan  valley,  till  they  merge  in  the 
Pisgah  range  at  the  north  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Rocky  glens  and  valleys, 
whose  lower  slopes  are  often  terraced  for  vines  ;  rolling  highlands,  for  the 
most  part  clothed  with  forests  of  ilex,  oak,  and  terebinth;  open  plains  and 
meadows ;  rushing  streams,  fringed  with  rich  vegetation ;  still  justify  the 
choice  of  the  two  tribes.  The  limestone  hills  are  identical  with  those  of 
western  Palestine,  but  the  abundance  of  water  makes  the  whole  region 
much  richer.  Jesus  must  often  have  wandered  amidst  its  wheat  fields, 
olive  grounds,  vineyards,  and  fig  and  pomegranate  orchards,  and  under  its 
leafy  forests,— for  He  once  and  again  visited  these  districts.  The  road 
stretches  north  from  the  ford  of  the  Jordan,  near  Jericho,  up  the  green 
Wady  Scha'ib  to  Ramoth  Gilead,  2,700  feet  above  the  sea,  past  Djebel 
Oscha,  the  hill  of  the  prophet  Hosea,  800  feet  higher,  to  Wady  Zerka,  the 
ancient  river  Jabbok — thence  to  the  heights  of  Kala'at  er  Robod,  where 
Saladin  in  after  days  built  a  castle.  Resting  here,  Christ's  eye  would  range 
over  Palestine  far  and  near,  from  the  north  end  of  the  Dead  Sea,  along  the 
whole  Jordan  valley,  the  river  gleaming  occasionally  in  its  windings.  Part  of 
the  Sea  of  Galilee  would  be  before  Him  to  the  north,  p.nd,  to  the  west,  Ebal 
and  Gerizim,  with  Mount  Tabor,  and  the  ridge  of  Carmel  stretching  into 
the  misty  distance,  beyond  the  wide  plain  of  Esdraelon.  Towards  the 
north.  He  would  see  the  hills  of  Safed,  across  the  sea  of  Galilee,  ani  far 
away,  in  the  blue  haze,  the  snow- sprinkled  peaks  of  Hermon.  From  this 
point  His  road  Avould  lie  through  Pella,  across  the  Jordan,  on  the  western 
side  of  which  the  steep  gorge  of  the  Wady  Farrah  led  up  to  the  plain  of 
Esdraelon  and  his  own  district. 

With  the  mountains  of  Pisgah,  on  the  east  of  the  Dead  Sea,  a  wild  in- 
accessible region  begins,  counting  among  its  peaks  Beth  Peer,  from  which 
Balaam  once  blessed  Israel,  as  it  lay  encamped  below  in  the  open  meadows 
opposite  Jericho,  and  where  Antipas,  in  Christ's  day,  built  the  town  of 
Livias,  in  honour  of  the  Empress-mother.  Mount  Nebo,  where  Moses  was 
buried  in  an  unknown  grave,  and  the  summit  from  which  he  surveyed  the 


THE  GALILiEAKS  AND  THE  EOEDER  LANDS.       203 

laud  he  was  not  to  enter,  are  in  this  range,  and  it  was  in  a  cave  m  their 
sechided  valleys,  that  Jewish  tradition  believed  Jeremiah  to  have  hidden 
the  ark,  and  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  Temple,  till  the  coming  of  the 
Messiah,  in  a  secrecy  known  only  to  God  and  the  angels. 

The  Jewish  population  in  Perea  was  only  small,  the  heathen  element 
greatly  prevailing.  In  the  northern  parts,  the  Syrian  races  were  in  the 
majority ;  in  the  southern,  the  people  were  largely  Arab. 

The  cities  were  in  most  cases  independent,  with  a  district  belonging  to 
each  of  them,  and  thus,  though  in  the  territories  of  Anti^Das,  were  not  part 
of  his  dominions.  Under  the  name  of  the  Decapolis, — "  the  ten  cities,"— 
Philadelphia,  Gadara,  Hippos,  Damascus,  Raphana,  Dio,  Pella,  Gcrasa,  and 
Kanatha,  were  confederated,  iinder  direct  Roman  government,  with  Scj'tho- 
polis,  on  the  west  side  of  the  Jordan,  in  a  league  of  peace  and  war  against 
native  robber  bands  and  the  Bedouin  hordes  ;  and  this  made  them  virtu- 
ally a  distinct  state.  Antipas,  apparently,  had  only  so  much  of  the  district 
as  did  not  belong  to  these  cities. 

Above  Perea,  in  Christ's  day,  the  tetrarchy  of  Philip  reached  to  the 
slopes  of  Hermon  on  the  north,  and  away  to  the  desert  on  the  east. 
It  included  the  provinces  of  Gaulonitis,  Iturea,  Trachonitis,  Auranitis,  and 
Batanea. 

Gaulonitis — still  known  as  Golan — reached  from  Ctesarea  Philippi,  or 
Panias,  on  the  slopes  of  Mount  Hermon,  to  the  Hieromax,  at  the  south  of 
the  Sea  of  Galilee,  stretching  back  twenty  or  thirty  miles  in  barren  up- 
lands of  volcanic  origin,  to  the  green  pastures  of  Batanea  or  Bashan,  the 
oasis  of  the  region,  with  the  district  of  Iturea  on  its  north,  the  lava  jilateau 
of  Trachonitis  on  its  east,  and  the  equally  waste  tract  of  Auranitis,  or  the 
Hauran,  on  the  south.  Gaulonitis,  which  we  know  Jesus  to  have  visited, 
looked  over  towards  Galilee  from  a  range  of  hills  running  parallel  v/ith 
the  Jordan,  north  and  south  ;  a  second  and  third  ridge  rising  behind,  in 
their  highest  peaks,  to  the  height  of  4,000  feet.  Besides  Cajsarea  Philippi, 
at  its  extreme  north,  the  province  boasted  the  town  of  Bcthsaida,  rebuilt 
by  Philip,  and  called  Julius,  after  the  daughter  of  Augustus.  It  lay  in  a 
green  opening  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee.  On  the  hills  over- 
looking the  lake,  towards  its  sovithern  end,  lay  the  town  of  Gamala,  and  in 
the  valley  at  the  south  extremity  was  Hippos,  one  of  the  cities  of  the 
Decapolis. 

Iturea — north  of  Gaulonitis,  on  the  lower  slojies  of  Hermon — was  a 
region  of  inaccessible  mountain  fastnesses,  and  intricate  defiles,  which 
favoured  and  helped  to  perpetuate  the  lawlessness  which  the  first  settlers 
may  have  derived  from  their  Arab  ancestor.  In  the  south  it  has  a  rich 
soil,  watered  by  numerous  streams  from  Hermon,  but  the  north  is  a  wild 
region  of  jagged  rocks,  heaped  up  in  uttermost  confusion,  or  yawning  in 
rents  and  chasms.  The  Itureans,  fonder  of  plunder  than  industry,  had, 
till  Herod  tamed  them,  an  evil  name,  as  mere  robbers,  issuing  from  their 
savage  retreats  to  prey  upon  the  caravans  jiassing  from  Damascus  to  the 
Sea.  "  The  hills,"  says  Strabo,  "  are  inhabited  by  Itureans  and  Arabs, 
who  are  mere  hordes  of  robbers  ;  the  j^lains  by  a  farming  population,  who 
are  constantly  plundered  by  the  hill  people,  and  thus  always  need  help 


204  THE    LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

from  outside."  Gathering  in  the  recesses  of  Lebanon  and  Hermon,  the 
mountain  banditti  organized  raids  as  far  as  Sidon  and  Berytus  on  the 
coast,  and  to  the  gates  of  Damascus  on  the  east.  Famous  as  archers  and 
bold  riders,  they  were  largely  enrolled  in  the  Koman  army,  in  which  their 
skill  became  TDroverbial ;  but  the  legions,  nevertheless,  looked  askance  at 
them  as  the  worst  set  in  the  service.  Their  boundaries  varied,  like  their 
fortune  in  war,  and  hence  are  seldom  described  alike. 

Trachonitis  was  the  name  given  to  the  district  east  and  south  of 
Iturea,  though  the  two  seem,  at  times,  to  be  interchangeable  names  for 
nearly  the  same  region.  Iturea  often  embraces  the  tract  usually  known 
as  Trachonitis,  the  "  Argob,"  or  "  Stony,"  of  the  Bible;  Trachonitis  being 
apparently  a  mere  translation  of  this  older  name.  It  was  part  of  the  king- 
dom of  Og,  conquered  by  the  Israelites  before  they  entered  Canaan,  and  was 
assigned  to  the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh.  Extending  about  twenty-two  miles 
from  north  to  south,  and  fourteen  from  east  to  west,  it  marks  the  focus  of 
ancient  volcanic  energy  in  the  district.  It  is  a  vast  ocean  of  basalt,  cracked 
and  rent  into  innumerable  fissures  in  cooling,  and  offering  in  its  countless 
chasms  an  almost  impenetrable  shelter  to  whole  armies.  "  In  its  rough, 
and  almost  inaccessible  rocks,"  says  Strabo,  "  are  hidden  spaces  in  which 
a  thousand  men  could  assemble  for  a  foray  against  the  merchants  of 
Damascus."  The  chief  town,  Kanatha,  on  the  caravan  route,  belonged  to  the 
Decapolis,  and  was  protected  from  tlie  robber  population  around  by  strong 
Roman  fortifications.  As  a  whole,  it  was  a  terribly  wild  region.  "The 
inhabitants  of  the  country,"  says  Josephus,  "  live  in  a  mad  way,  and  pillage 
the  districts  of  the  Damascenes,  their  rulers  at  times  sharing  the  plunder. 
It  is  hard  to  restrain  them,  for  robbery  has  long  been  their  profession, 
and  they  have  no  other  way  of  living,  for  they  have  neither  any  city  of 
their  own,  nor  any  lands,  but  only  some  holes  or  dens  of  the  earth,  where 
they  and  their  cattle  live  together.  They  contrive,  however,  to  secure 
water,  and  store  corn  in  granaries,  and  are  able  to  make  a  great  resistance 
by  sudden  sallies,  for  the  entrances  of  tlieir  caves  are  so  narrow,  that  only 
one  iDerson  can  enter  at  a  time,  though  they  are  incredibly  large  within. 
The  ground  over  their  habitations  is  not  very  high,  but  rather  a  plain, 
while  the  rocks  are  very  difficult  of  entrance  without  a  guide."  Herod 
did  his  trtmost  against  them,  but  his  success  was  only  passing,  till  at  last 
he  settled  several  military  colonies  in  the  district,  and  by  their  incessant 
patrols  managed  to  keep  the  robbers  in  check. 

South  of  this  fierce  and  lawless  region  lay  Auranitis,  now  known  as  the 
Hauran,  a  high  plateau  of  treeless  downs,  of  the  richest  soil,  stretching 
from  Gilead  to  the  Desert,  and  from  the  Ledja  to  the  uplands  of  Moab  on 
the  south.  Not  a  stone  is  to  be  seen,  and  the  great  caravans  of  well-fed 
camels,  laden  with  corn  and  barley,  constantly  met  with  on  the  way  to 
Damascus,  show  what  it  must  have  been  in  the  days  of  Christ.  Even  now, 
however,  no  one  can  travel  through  it  safely,  unarmed,  and  the  fellahin, 
except  close  to  towns,  have  to  plough  and  soav  with  a  musket  slung  at 
their  back.  It  is  the  granary  of  Damascus,  and  the  ruins  of  numerous 
towns,  built  of  basalt,  even  to  the  doors  of  the  houses,  show  that  the  popu- 
lation must  have  been  great. 


THE    GALILEANS   AND   THE   BOKDEE   LANDS.  205 

Batanea,  the  auciout  Baslian,  was  a  mountainous  district  of  -.lie  richest 
type,  abounding  iu  forests  of  evergreen  oaks,  and  extremely  rich  in  its  soih 
The  hills,  which,  in  some  cases,  reach  a  height  of  6,000  feet,  and  the  cattle 
which  fed  in  the  rich  meadows,  ara  often  alluded  to  in  the  Old  Testament. 
Desolate  now,  it  was  densely  peopled  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  as  the 
ruins  of  towns  and  cities  of  basalt,  as  in  Auranitis,  thickly  strewn  over  its 
surface,  and  still  almost  as  perfect  as  when  they  were  built,  strikingly 
prove. 

In  the  lifetime  of  Christ,  a  large  Jewish  population  lived  in  all  these 
districts,  in  the  midst  of  much  larger  numbers  of  Syrians,  Arabs,  Greeks, 
and  Phenicians,  under  the  rule  of  Philip^  the  son  of  Herod  and  of  Cleopatra 
of  Jerusalem.  He  was  between  Archelaus  and  Antipas  in  age,  and  had 
been  educated  with  them  in  Eome,  but  kept  entirely  aloof  from  family 
intrigues,  and  was  true-hearted  enough  to  plead  the  cause  of  Archelaus 
before  Augustus.  The  best  of  Herod's  sons,  he  retained  not  only  the 
good- will  of  his  family,  but  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  Eomans,  and 
the  Jews  especially  honoured  him  as  sprung  from  a  daughter  of  Zion,  and 
no  son  of  a  Samaritan.  During  a  reign  of  thirty-seven  years,  he  was  no 
less  gentle  to  his  subjects  than  peaceful  towards  his  neighbours.  "  He 
showed  himself,"  says  Josephus,  "moderate  and  quiet  in  his  life  and 
government.  He  constantly  lived  in  the  country  subject  to  him,  and  used 
to  travel  through  it,  continually,  to  administer  justice;  his  official  seat— 
the  sella  curulis — acconnjanying  him  everj-where ;  always  ready  to  be  set 
down  in  the  market  place,  or  the  road,  to  hear  complaints,  without  any  one 
suffering  from  delay."  His  court  consisted  only  of  a  few  friends,  whom 
he  seldom  changed,  and  it  is  recorded  of  him,  that  in  his  care  for  his  people 
he  levied  almost  fewer  taxes  than  he  needed.  Modest  in  his  ambitions,  he 
cared  more  for  the  jDeaceful  triumph  of  discovering  the  sources  of  the 
Jordan  than  for  noisy  fame.  The  neighbourhood  of  the  romantic  city  he 
built  on  the  edge  of  Hermon  was  the  scene  of  the  transfiguration ;  but  he 
is  not  mentioned  in  the  Gospels,  though  it  is  a  noble  tribute  to  him  that 
Jesus  once  and  again  took  refuge  in  his  territories,  from  the  ci'aft  of  His 
own  ruler,  Antipas,  and  the  hate  of  the  Galileean  Pharisees.  He  married 
his  niece  Salome,  daughter  of  Herod-Philip,  his  uncrowned  brother,  and  of 
the  too  well-known  Herodias.  His  reign  continued  through  the  whole  life 
of  our  Lord,  and  he  finally  died  childless,  a  year  or  so  after  the  Cruci- 
fixion, in  Bethsaida,  or  Julias,  on  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  and  was  laid  in  a 
tomb  which  he  himself  had  built  as  his  last  resting-place. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  the  country  rises  again 
into  rounded  hills,  which  extend  from  the  great  coast  plain,  across  the 
deep  chasm  of  the  Jordan,  till  they  sink  away  in  the  east,  while  towards 
the  south  they  end  only  in  the  wilderness  of  et  Tih,  or  the  "Wanderings. 
The  northern  part  of  these  hills,  on  the  west  of  the  Jordan,  was  the  land 
of  the  Samaritans.  Their  country  began  at  En  Gannim — "  the  fountain  of 
gardens  " — at  the  south  end  of  Esdraelon,  and  ended,  in  the  south,  at  the 
mountain  pass  of  Akrabbi — or,  the  "  Scorpions,"  north  of  Shiloh.  The 
whole  region  is  a  network  of  countless  valleys  running  in  every  direction, 
but  mainly  east  and  west. 


206  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

In  tliese  valleys  lived  the  descendants  of  the  heathen  colonics,  which 
Esarhaddon  had  sent  to  occupy  the  place  of  the  Ten  Tribes  whom  he  had 
carried  away,  and,  with  them,  the  children  of  such  of  these  tribes  them- 
selves as  escaped  deportation,  or  had  found  their  w^ay  back,  and  of  Jews 
who  had  fled  thither  from  time  to  time,  from  any  cause,  from  Judea.  •  The 
growth  of  the  new  Jewish  kingxlom  on  the  south  had  encroached  greatly 
on  the  Samaritan  territory,  but  it  was  still  a  desirable  land,  and  far  more 
fruitful  than  Judea  itself. 

The  soft  limestone  or  chalky  hills  of  Samaria,  unlike  those  farther 
south,  are  not  without  many  springs.  Fertile  bottoms  of  black  earth  are 
not  infrequent,  and  rich  fields,  gardens,  and  orchards,  alternate  in  the 
valleys,  wliile  vineyards  and  trees  of  difi:erent  kinds  spread  up  the  slopes, 
and  vfoods  of  olives  and  walnut  crown  the  soft  outline  of  many  of  the  hills. 
The  meadow^s  and  pasture  land  of  Samaria  w^ere  famous  in  Israel. 

Such  was  the  territory  which  lay  between  Christ  in  Galilee,  and  the 
hills  of  Judea.  Of  the  people,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  at  a  future 
time. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

BEFORE   THE    DAWN. 

"VTO  power  ever  showed  so  great  a  genius  for  assimilating  conquered 
-^^  nations  to  itself  as  Rome.  Its  tributary  provinces  habitually  merged 
their  national  life,  ere  long,  in  that  of  their  conqueror.  Her  laws, 
language,  and  religion,  more  or  less  completely  took  root  wherever  her 
eagles  were  perm^anently  planted,  and  have  left  the  records  of  their 
triumphs  in  the  wide  extent  of  the  so-called  Latin  race,  even  at  this  day. 
But  it  w^as  very  different  in  Palestine.  There  Rome  met  a  state  of  things 
unknown  elsewhere ;  which  she  neither  cared,  nor  was  able  to  comprehend. 
The  Spaniard  or  Gaul  had  given  no  trouble  after  he  was  once  subdued, 
but  readily  accepted  her  arts,  civilisation,  and  laws.  It  was  reserved  for 
the  mountaineers  of  Judea  to  refuse  any  peaceable  relations  to  the  mistress 
of  the  world ;  to  treat  her  proudest  sons  with  haughty  contempt,  and  to 
regard  their  very  presence  in  the  country  as  a  defilement. 

The  discipline  of  the  centuries  before  the  Roman  concjuest  of  Palestine 
by  Pompey,  had  formed  a  nation  every  way  unique.  The  religious  institu- 
tions of  its  ancestors  had  become  the  object  of  a  passionate  idolatry,  which 
claimed,  and  willingly  received,  the  whole  of  life  for  its  service.  The 
tragedy  of  the  Exile,  the  teaching  of  the  leaders  of  the  Return,  and  of  their 
successors,  and  the  fierce  puritanism  kindled  by  the  Syrian  persecutionii, 
and  deepened  by  the  Maccab^an  struggle,  had  formed  a  peoj^le  whoso 
existence  w^as  interwoven  with  that  of  their  law ;  who  would  endure  any 
torture,  or  let  themselves  be  thrown  to  beasts  in  the  circus,  rather  than 
alter  a  word  which  their  law  forbade — whose  women  would  bear  the 
agonies  of  martyrdom  rather  than  eat  unclean  food,  and  whose  men  would 
submit  to  be  cut  down  without  an  attempt  at  resistance,  rather  than  touch 


BEFOEE    THE    DAWN.  207 

the  sword  on  a  Sabbath.  Their  whole  life  was  a  succession  of  rites  and 
observances,  as  sacred  in  their  eyes  as  the  details  of  his  caste  to  a  Brahmin. 
Intercourse  with  other  nations  was  possible  only  to  the  most  limited  ex- 
tent. They  shrank  from  all  otlier  races  as  from  foulness  or  leprosy.  The 
common  Jew  shunned  a  heathen  or  Samaritan ;  the  Pharisee  shrank  from 
the  common  Jew;  the  Essene  ascetic  withdrew  from  mankind  into  the 
desert.  The  dread  of  ceremonial  defilement  made  solitude  the  only 
security,  till  the  desire  for  it  became  morbid,  like  that  of  the  Samaritan 
settlers  of  the  islands  of  the  Ked  Sea,  who  implored  any  stranger  to  keep 
at  a  distance.  The  very  country  consecrated  by  so  many  purifications  was 
sacred,  and  hence  there  could  be  no  greater  shock  to  the  feelings  of  the 
nation  than  that  any  who  were  ceremonially  unclean  should  pollute  it  by 
their  presence.  Even  among  themselves,  constant  care  was  required  to 
maintain  or  restore  their  purity ;  but  the  presence  of  heathen  among  them 
made  daily  defilement  almost  inevitable.  What,  then,  must  have  been  the 
horror  of  the  nation  when  even  the  Holy  of  Holies,  which  the  high  priest 
alone  could  enter,  and  that  only  once  a  year,  after  endless  purifications, 
was  polluted  by  Pompey,  and  when,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Prophet,  that 
name  which  a  Jew  dared  not  even  utter,  was  blasphemed  every  day  by  the 
heathen  soldiery  ?  The  cry  of  the  Psalmist  in  times  long  past,  was  once 
more  that  of  every  Jew,  "  0  God,  the  heathen  are  come  into  Thine  inherit- 
ance :  Thy  Holy  Temple  have  they  defiled." 

Such  a  calamity  could  be  regarded  only  as  a  judgment  from  Jehovah  on 
the  nation.  In  v.^ords  which  were  constantly  read  in  the  synagogues,  they 
sighed  to  hear  that  "  The  wrath  of  Jehovah  was  so  kindled  against  His 
people  because  they  were  defiled  with  their  own  v/orks,  that  He  abhori-ed 
His  inheritance,  and  had  given  it  into  the  hand  of  the  heathen,  and  let 
them  that  hated  them  rule  over  Israel."  The  very  land  seemed  under  a 
curse.  It  appeared  as  if  the  dew  of  blessing  no  longer  fell ;  as  if  the  fruits 
had  lost  their  fragrance  and  taste,  and  the  fields  refused  their  harvest. 
The  practical  Eoman  could  not  understand  such  an  idealistic  race ;  with 
him  law  was  no  less  supreme  that  it  was  with  the  Jew,  but  his  law  was 
that  of  the  empire ;  with  the  Jews  that  of  an  unseen  God ;  his  had  for  its 
aim  external  order  and  material  civilisation,  that  of  the  Jew  ignored 
material  progress,  and  was  at  war  with  the  first  conditions  of  joolitical 
submission.  Like  the  Jew,  the  Eoman  started  from  the  idea  of  duty,  but 
it  was  the  duty  owed  to  the  state :  the  Jew  repudiated  any  earthly 
authority,  and  ovv^ed  allegiance  only  to  a  theocracy.  The  Eoman  cared 
only  for  the  present  life ;  to  the  Jew  the  present  was  indifferent.  The  one 
worshipped  the  Yisible,  the  other  the  Unseen.  To  the  Jew,  the  Eoman 
was  unclean  and  accursed ;  to  the  Eoman  the  Jew  was  ridiculous  for  his 
religion,  and  hateful  for  his  pride.  Each  despised  the  other.  Pompey 
had  begun  by  treating  their  inost  sacred  prejudices  with  contempt,  and  his 
successors  follov,^ed  in  his  steps.  The  murderer  of  their  royal  house,  and 
the  friend  of  the  hated  Samaritans,  was  made  king  in  Jerusalem,  and  at  a 
later  day,  Eoman  procurators  sucked  the  very  marrow  from  the  land,  op- 
pressed the  people  to  the  uttermost,  and  paid  no  regard  to  their  tenderest 
sensibilities.     The  government  was  as  ruthless  as  that  of  England  in  India 


208  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

would  be  if  it  trampled  under  foot,  in  the  pride  of  strength,  every  Hindoo 
prejudice  it  found  in  its  way.  Eoman  religion  was  faith  in  the  magic  of 
the  Koman  name,  and  the  irresistibleness  of  the  Eoman  arms  ;  a  worship 
only  of  brute  force,  hard,  unfeeling,  coarse :  which  could  not  understand 
anything  transcendental  like  the  creed  of  the  Jew,  or  the  possibility  of  men 
caring  for  an  idea,  far  less  of  their  dying  for  it. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  Eabbis  saw,  in  such  a  power,  the  fourth  beast 
of  the  Book  of  Daniel — "  a  beast  diverse  from  all  the  others,  exceeding 
di^eadful,  whose  teeth  were  of  iron  and  his  nails  of  brass,  which  devoured, 
brake  in  pieces,  and  stamped  the  remnant  of  God's  people  with  its  feet." 
"  Thou  madest  the  world  for  our  sakes,"  says  one  of  the  latest  Jewish 
seers,  who  himself  had  seen  the  miseries  of  these  times  ;  "  As  for  the  other 
people"— the  Eomans  and  all  mankind  besides— "who  also  come  from 
Adam,  Thou  hast  said  they  are  nothing,  but  are  like  spittle,  or  the  drop- 
pings from  a  cask.  And  now,  0  Lord,  behold  these  heathen,  who  have 
ever  been  counted  as  nothing,  have  begixn  to  be  lords  over  us,  and  to  de- 
vour us.  But  we.  Thy  people,  whom  Thou  hast  called  Thy  first  born.  Thy 
only  begotten,  and  the  object  of  Thy  fervent  love,  are  given  into  their 
hands.  If  the  world  now  be  made  for  our  sakes,  why  do  wo  not  possess 
our  inheritance  over  the  world ?  How  long  shall  this  endure?"  "Hear, 
thou,  I  will  talk  with  thee,"  He  makes  the  Messiah  say  to  the  Eoman 
Eagle,  "  Art  thou  not  the  last  of  the  four  beasts  which  I  made  to  reign  in 
my  world,  who  hast  overcome  all  the  beasts  that  were  past,  and  hast  power 
over  the  world  with  great  fearfulness,  and  much  wicked  oppression  ?  For 
thou  hast  afflicted  the  meek,  thou  hast  hurt  the  peaceable,  thou  hast  loved 
the  Faithless  and  hated  the  Faithful,  and  destroyed  the  towns  of  those 
who  brought  forth  fruit,  and  the  walls  of  those  who  did  thee  no  harm. 
Thy  wrongful  dealings  have  gone  up  to  the  Highest,  and  thy  pride  to  the 
Mighty  one.  Therefore,  0  eagle,  thou  shalt  perish  with  thy  fearful  wings, 
thy  baleful  winglets,  thy  ferocious  heads,  thy  tearing  claws,  and  all  thy 
foul  body ;  that  the  earth  may  be  refreshed,  and  be  delivered  from  thy  vio- 
lence, and  that  she  may  hope  in  the  justice  and  mercy  of  Him  that  made 
her." 

Such  concentrated  hatred  and  bitter  contemptuous  scorn  from  a  people 
so  feeble  and,  to  a  Eoman,  in  many  ways  so  ridiculous,  was  naturally  met 
by  equal  dislike,  and  if  possible,  greater  contemj^t.  The  Jews  of  Eomc  had 
been  originally,  for  the  most  part,  slaves,  and  their  numbers  were  in- 
creased yearly  by  the  sales  of  the  slave  market.  But  buyers  had  found 
that  Jew  slaves  vrere  more  trouble  in  a  household,  about  their  law,  than 
they  were  worth,  and  hence  they  were  allowed  to  buy  their  own  freedom 
at  a  very  low  jorice.  A  vast  number  of  Jewish  freedmen  had  thus  gra- 
dually accumulated  in  Eome,  to  the  horror  of  the  Eomans  at  large,  by 
whom  they  were  reckoned  one  of  the  greatest  plagues  of  the  city.  The 
Acts  of  the  Apostles  show  how  frequent  must  have  been  the  tumults  they 
caused.  Squalid,  dirty,  troublesome,  repulsive,  yet  sneering  at  the  gods 
and  temples  of  their  masters,  and  constantly  aggressive  in  the  hope  of 
making  proselytes,  they  were  the  special  objects,  by  turns,  of  the  ridicule, 
loathing,  and  hatred  of   the  haughty   Eomans,  and  this  hatred  was  in- 


EEFOEE    THE    DAWN.  209 

tensified  bj  the  favour  their  religion  had  found  with  some  of  the  Eoman 
wives  and  daughters.  The  officials  who  went  from  Rome  to  Judca  to  rule 
the  Hebrews,  carried  with  them,  already,  a  scorn  and  abhorrence  for  the 
nation,  which  found  its  expression  in  a  ready  belief  of  reports  so  revolting 
and  incredible  as  that  they  worshipped  the  head  of  an  ass,  as  a  god,  in 
their  Temple.  What  treatment  they  might  expect  from  Eoman  governors 
is  shadowed  in  many  utterances  of  different  classes.  Speaking  of  the 
Jews  sent  to  the  pestilent  climate  of  Sardinia,  to  put  down  the  robbers 
there,  Tacitus  adds,  "If  they  perished  by  the  climate  it  was  no  loss." 
Apollonius  of  Tj^ana  is  made^to[say  to  Vespasian,  in  Alexandria — "  "\Ylien 
one  came  from  the  scene  of  war  and  told  of  30,000  Jews  whom  you  had 
killed  in  one  battle,  and  of  60,000  in  another,  I  took  the  speaker  aside,  and 
asked  him,  '  What  are  you  talking  about ;  have  you  nothing  more  worth 
telling  than  that  ?  '  "  Even  the  calm  and  lofty  Marcus  Aurclius,  at  a  later 
day,  is  ci  edited  with  an  expression  of  the  common  hatred  of  the  Jews, 
which,  in  its  biting  contempt,  surpasses  all  others.  "  O  Marcomanni !  O 
Quadi !  0  Sarmatians  !  "  cried  the  Emperor,  when  he  passed  from  Egypt 
into  Palestine,  and  found  himself  among  the  Jews,  "  I  have  found  a  people, 
at  last,  who  are  lower  than  you  !  " 

The  feelings  of  the  Jews  towards  the  Romans  had  originally  been  those 
of  admiration  and  respect,  for  their  bravery  and  great  deeds.  Judas 
Maccaba^us  had  sought  their  alliance,  and,  even  so  late  as  the  reign  of 
John  Hyrcanus,  the  nation  retained  kindly  feelings  towards  them.  It  was 
the  fault  of  Pompey  that  so  great  and  sudden  a  revulsion  took  place.  The 
treachery  by  which  he  got  possession  of  the  country  and  the  capital ;  the 
insolent  contempt  with  which  he  defiled  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and  the  vanity 
which  led  him  to  carry  off  the  royal  family,  who  had  put  themselves  con- 
fidingly under  his  protection,  to  grace  his  triumph,  filled  the  race  with  an 
abiding  hatred  of  the  very  name  of  Rome.  A  writer  of  the  times  has  left 
us  the  impressions  made  by  such  acts  : — "  My  ear  heard  the  sound  of  war, 
the  clang  of  the  trumpet  which  called  to  murder  and  ruin  !  The  noise  of 
a  great  army,  as  of  a  mighty  rushing  wind,  like  a  great  pillar  of  fire,  roll- 
ing hitherward  over  the  plains !  Jehovah  brings  up  hither  a  mighty 
wai'rior  from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  He  has  determined  war  against 
Jerusalem  and  against  His  land !  The  princes  of  the  land  went  out  to  him 
with  joj^  and  said,  'Thou  art  welcome,  come  in  peace.'  They  have  made 
smooth  the  rough  ways  before  the  march  of  the  stranger ;  they  opened  the 
gates  of  Jerusalem.  They  crowned  the  walls  with  garlands.  He  entered, 
as  a  father  enters  the  house  of  his  sons  in  peace.  He  walked  abroad  in 
perfect  security.  Then  he  took  possession  of  the  towers  and  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  for  God  had  led  hiin  in  safety,  through  her  folly.  He  dcstroj-ed 
her  princes,  and  every  one  wise  in  counsel,  and  poured  out  the  blood  of 
Jerusalem  like  unclean  water.  He  led  her  sons  and  daughters  into 
captivity.  The  strange  people  have  gone  up  to  the  altar,  and,  in  their 
pride,  have  not  taken  off  their  shoes  in  the  holy  places." 

"In  his  haughty  pride,"  cries  the  singer  in  his  second  psalm,  which 
throws  light  on  the  corruption  of  Israel  in  the  half-century  before  Christ, 
and  on  Jewish  thought  at  large,  "  the  sinner  has  broken  down  the  strong 

r 


210  TUB    LIFE    OE    CHEIST. 

Avails  with  tlie  ram,  and  thou  liast  not  liinclerecl.  Ilcatlicu  aliens  have 
gone  up  into  Tliy  holy  place  ;  tliey  have  walked  up  and  dorm  in  it,  with 
their  shoes,  in  contempt.  Because  the  sons  of  Jerusalem  have  defiled  the 
holy  things  of  the  Lord,  and  have  profaned  the  gifts  consecrated  to  God, 
by  their  transgressions  of  the  Law.  For  this,  He  has  said,  '  Cast  forth 
these  things  from  me,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them.'  The  beauty  of  holiness 
have  they  made  vile ;  it  has  been  profaned  before  God  for  ever ! 

"  Your  sons  and  your  daughters  are  sold  into  woeful  slavery ;  they  are 
branded,  as  slaves,  on  their  necks,  in  the  sight  of  the  heathen.  For  your 
sins  hath  He  done  this !  Therefore  gave  He  them  up  into  the  hands  of 
those  that  were  stronger  than  they,  for  He  turned  away  His  face  from 
pitying  them, — youth,  and  old  man,  and  child  together,  because  they  all 
sinned,  in  not  hearing  His  voice.  The  heavens  scowled  on  them,  and.  the 
earth  loathed  them,  for  no  man  on  it  had  done  as  they. 

"  God  has  made  the  sons  of  Jerusalem  a  derision.  Every  one  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  sin  of  Sodom.  They  flaunted  their  wickedness  before  the 
sun.  They  committed  their  evil  deeds  before  it.  They  made  a  show  of 
their  guilt.  Even  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  are  profane,  according  to 
Thy  judgment,  for  they  have  defiled  themselves  shamelessly  vfith  the 
heathen.     For  all  these  things  my  heart  mourns. 

"  I  will  justify  Thee,  0  God,  in  uprightness  of  heart,  for  in  Thy  judg- 
ments, O  God,  is  seen  Thy  righteousness.  For  Thou  givest  to  the  wicked, 
according  to  their  works,  according  to  the  great  evil  of  their  doings. 
Thou  hast  revealed  their  sins,  that  Thy  judgment  may  be  seen.  Thou 
blottest  out  their  memory  from  the  earth.  The  Lord  is  a  righteous  judge, 
and  regardeth  no  man's  countenance.  He  has  dragged  down  her  beauty 
from  the  throne  of  glory.  For  Jerusalem  has  been  put  to  shame  by  the 
heathen,  when  they  trampled  it  under  foot.  Put  on  sackcloth  for  robes  of 
beauty,  a  wreath  of  twisted  rushes  instead  of  a  crown.  God  has  taken 
away  her  mitre  of  glory,  which  He  put  on  her  brow.  Her  pride  is  cast 
down  in  dishonour  on  the  earth. 

"  And  I  looked,  and  prayed  before  the  face  of  the  Lord,  and  said.  Let  it 
suffice  Thee,  0  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  made  heavy  Thy  hand  upon  Jerusalem, 
in  the  coming  against  her  of  the  heathen.  Because  they  have  treated  her 
with  scorn,  and  have  not  spared  in  their  wrath  and  fury,  and  they  will  not 
bring  this  to  an  end,  unless  Thou,  O  Lord,  reprovest  them  in  Thy  wrath. 
For  they  have  not  done  it  in  zeal  for  Thee,  but  from  the  wish  of  their 
heart,  to  pour  out  their  rage  against  us  like  furies.  Delay  not,  0  God,  to 
smite  them  on  the  head,  that  the  haughtiness  of  the  dragon  may  sink  down 
in  dishonour. 

"  I  had  waited  but  a  little  till  God  showed  me  his  haughty  pride  brought 
low,  on  the  shores  of  Egypt,  and  his  body  set  at  nought  by  the  least,  alike 
on  land  and  sea, — rotting  upon  the  waves  in  pitiful  contempt,  and  having 
no  one  to  bury  it.  Because  he  had  set  God  at  nought  and  dishonoured 
Him.  He  forgot  that  he  was  only  a  man  :  he  did  not  think  of  what  might 
be  to  come.  He  said,  '  I  shall  be  lord  [of  sea  and  land,'  and  he  did  not 
remember  that  God  is  great  and  resistless  in  His  great  might.  He  is 
King  of  Heaven,  and  the  judge  of  kings  and  rulers,  exalting  His  servant, 


BEFORE    THE    DAWN.  211 

and  stilliug  the  proud  iu  eternal  dishonour  and  ruin  becaiTse  they  have  not 
ackuowlcdp-ed  Him." 

Herod's  flattery  of  Rome,  and  his  treachery  to  what  the  patriots  thought 
the  national  cause,  only  intensified  the  bitterness  of  such  recollections. 

Amidst  all  the  troubles  of  the  nation,  ho-wever,  their  hopes  were  still 
kept  alive  by  a  belief  which,  like  much  else  among  the  Jews,  is  unique  in 
history.  Their  sacred  books  had  from  the  earliest  days  predicted  the 
appearance  of  a  great  deliverer,  who  should  "  redeem  Israel  out  of  all  his 
troubles."  "  All  the  prophets,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  prophesied  only  of  the 
days  of  the  Messiah."  In  later  days  this  hope  was  intensified  by  a  new 
development  of  the  national  literature.  In  the  second  century  before 
Christ,  the  Book  of  Daniel  had  created  a  profound  sensation  by  its  pre- 
dictions, universally  current,  of  the  destruction  of  the  heathen,  and  the 
elevation  of  the  chosen  people  to  supreme  glory,  under  the  Messiah.  These 
were,  at  that  time,  interpreted  as  applying  to  the  disastrous  period  of 
religious  persecution  under  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  which  provoked  the 
Maccaba^an  revolt,  and  ultimately  led  to  the  tejnporary  independence  of 
the  nation,  with  its  short,  bright  glimpse  of  prosperity,  as  if  heralding  the 
Messianic  reign.  The  heathen  were  to  "devour  the  whole  earth  for  a 
time,  and  tread  it  down  and  break  it  iu  pieces."  But  "  the  kingdom  and 
dominion,  and  the  greatness  of  the  rule  under  the  whole  heaven,  shall  be 
given  to  the  people  of  the  saints  of  the  Most  High,  whose  kingdom  is  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  all  dominioiis  shall  serve  and  obey  Him."  In 
such  words,  Israel  read  its  future  political  glory,  as  the  seat  of  a  universal 
theocracy,  which  was  to  replace  the  kings  of  the  heathen,  and  flourish  iu 
perpetual  supremacy  over  all  mankind.  The  head  of  this  world-wide 
empire  they  saw  in  "the  Son  c^ Man,"  who  was  to  "come  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven ; "  dominion  and  glory,  and  a  kingdom,  that  all  people,  nations, 
and  languages  should  serve  Him  for  ever,  being  given  Him  by  the  Ancient 
of  Days. 

With  the  paling  of  the  Maccabasan  glory,  after  its  short  brightness,  and 
the  decay  of  religious  enthusiasm,  under  the  corrupting  influence  of  its 
later  kings, —  a  reaction  not  unlike  the  license  of  the  Restoration  as  con- 
trasted with  the  severe  Puritanism  of- the  CommouAvealth, — a  copious 
literature  sprang  up,  based  on  the  model,  which,  in  the  Book  of  Daniel, 
had  so  profoundly  affected  the  spirit  of  the  age.  *  With  the  independence 
of  the  nation,  prophecy  had,  long  ago,  gradually  ceased,  for  the  sphere  o£ 
the  prophet  was  incompatible  with  the  rule  of  the  enemies  of  his  race. 
Zechariah  and  Malachi  had  appeared  after  the  return  from  exile,  but,  with 
the  latter,  it  was  universally  acknowledged,  the  grand  roll  of  ]:)rophets  had 
ended.  The  last  of  the  order  had,  indeed,  himself,  virtually  announced  its 
suspension, in  pointing  to  the  coming  of  Elijah,  before  the  great  and  dreadful 
day  of  Jehovah,  as  its  next  appearance.  From  that  time,  it  became  fixed 
in  the  popular  mind  that  Elijah,  and  perhaps,  also,  a  "prophet  like  unto 
Moses,"  would  herald  the  Messiah  and  his  kingdom.  The  peculiar  consti- 
tution of  the  State  inevitably  gave  this  glorious  future  a  political,  rather 
than  a  spiritual  character,  for  their  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  God  was 
that  of  a  theocracy,  such  as   God  Himself  had  founded  amongst  them, 


212  THE   LIFE   OF    CHRIST. 

under  Moses — an  earthly  state,  witli  God  as  king,  and  His  "anointed  "  aa 
vicegerent,  to  carry  out  His  written  law.  Tlieir  only  idea  of  an  "  anointed 
one,"  that  is,  a  Messiah,  must  have  been  derived  from  the  illustrations 
offered  by  the  earlier  history  of  the  nation.  They  knew  of  Moses,  Joshua, 
the  judges,  and  the  kings.  The  patriarchs  were  spoken  of  in  the  Scrip- 
tures as  tlie  anointed  of  Jehovah,  or  His  Messiahs,  and  so,  also,  were  high 
priests  and  prophets,  and  their  kings,  and  even  the  Persian  monarch, 
Cyrus.  Among  the  later  Jews,  of  the  ages  immediately  before  Christ, 
"  The  Messiah"  had  become  the  usual  name  of  the  Deliverer  predicted  by 
the  prophets,  and  was  almost  exclusively  restricted  to  Him.  But  at  no 
time  had  the  spiritual  been  separated  from  the  political,  in  its  use.  Indeed, 
the  whole  theory  of  their  national  government  inevitably  joined  the  secular 
and  the  religious.  The  State  and  the  Church  were,  with  it,  identical,  the 
former  being  but  the  outward  embodiment  of  the  latter.  Jewish  politics 
were  only  Jewish  religion  in  its  public  relations,  for  God  was  the  political 
as  well  as  religious  Head  of  the  nation.  It  was,  hence,  all  but  impossible 
for  a  Jew  to  conceive  of  the  Messiah,  except  as  the  divinely  commissioned 
vicegerent  of  God,  in  his  double  sphere  of  earthly  and  heavenly  kingship 
in  Israel. 

The  long  silence  of  prophets,  and  the  keen  politico-religious  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  advent  of  a  Messiah  was  expected — an  enthusiasm  resting 
on  ScrijDture  throughout,  but  re-kindled  to  a  passionate  and  abiding 
fervour  by  the  Book  of  Daniel — incited  some  nobler  spirits  to  seize  the 
pen,  and  keep  alive  the  national  faith  and  hope,  by  compositions  conceived 
in  the  same  spirit.  To  give  these  greater  weight,  they  were  ascribed  to 
the  most  famous  men  of  past  ages,  and  sent  abroad  in  their  names.  A 
Eevelation  of  the  future  glory  of  Israel  appeared  in  the  name  of  the  ante- 
diluvian Enoch,  as  one,  of  all  men,  worthy  to  have  been  favoured  with 
Divine  communications.  Another  consisted  of  j^salms  assigned  to  Solomon, 
and  a  third  was  said  to  have  been  written  by  the  great  Scribe,  the  second 
Moses — Ezra.  Othei's  are  still  preserved  in  the  collection  of  "  Apocrypha" 
till  recently  bound  up  with  our  English  Bibles.  Of  the  whole,  the  first 
Book  of  the  Maccabees  illustrates  the  fervent  patriotism  and  stern  puritan- 
ism  of  the  war  of  liberty.  The  Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach  sets  in  a 
striking  light  the  saying  of  Esdi\as,  that,  even  in  these  dark  days,  though 
many  "  walked  feignedly  before  God,  others  feared  His  name  according  to 
His  will,  and  taught  His  law  nobly."  No  better  key  to  the  religious  spirit 
of  an  age  can  be  had  than  its  religious  literature.  That  of  Israel,  as  the 
age  of  Christ  drew  near,  was  more  and  more  concentrated  on  the  expected 
Messiah,  and  the  preparation  needed  for  his  coming.  The  Book  of  Enoch, 
the  Psalms  of  Solomon,  and  the  Fourth  Book  of  Esdras,  successively 
reveal  the  white  heat  of  the  national  hopes  of  which  they  were  the 
expression. 

Nothing  could  be  more  fitted  to  influence  the  excitable  imagination  of  au 
Oriental  peoiole,  accustomed  to  such  a  style  in  their  sacred  writings — 
nothing  more  fitted  to  intensify  a  fanatical  spiritual  pride  in  themselves  as 
the  favourites  of  heaven,  or  to  deepen  their  hatred  of  all  other  nations  — 
than  the  mystic  chapters  of  the  Book  or  Enoch,  of  which  the  earlier  date 


BEFORE    THE    DAWN.  213 

perhaps  fortyj^ears  before  tlic  entrance  of  tlie  Romans  into  Palestino, 
while  the  whole  are  as  old  as  tlic  reign  of  Herod.  In  one,  Israel  is  painted 
under  the  figure  of  a  flock  of  white  sheep,  while  the  nations  round  are  the 
Egyptian  wolf,  the  Phenician  dog,  the  black  wild  boar  Edom,  the  Arabian 
vulture,  the  Sj'rian  raven,  and  the  Grecian  eagle;  or  are  branded  as 
jackals,  kites,  foxes,  and  swine.  Hyrcanus,  the  sheep  with  the  great  horn, 
drives  away  the  Grecian  eagles,  the  Sja-ian  ravens,  the  Egyptian  kites,  the 
Arabian  vulture,  and  the  Philistine  dogs,  who  were  tearing  the  flesli  of  the 
sheep  of  the  House  of  Israel.  The  Lord  of  the  slieej)  comes  to  His  flock, 
the  rod  of  His  wrath  is  in  His  hand,  and  strikes  the  earth  till  it  quakes, 
and  all  the  beasts  and  birds  flee  from  the  sheep,  and  sink  in  the  earth,  which 
closes  over  them.  A  great  throne  is  then  set  up  in  the  beloved  land,  and 
the  Lord  of  the  sheep  sits  on  it,  and  opens  the  sealed  books.  He  will  now 
drive  the  kings  from  their  thrones  and  kingdoms,  and  will  break  the  teetb 
of  sinners,  and,  finally,  chase  out  the  heathen  from  the  congregation  of 
His  people,  and  cast  down  the  oppressors  of  Israel  into  a  deep  place,  "  full 
of  fire,  flaming,  and  full  of  pillars  of  fire."  A  "  great  everlasting  heaven" 
will  spring  forth  from  the  midst  of  the  angels,  and  the  day  of  judgment 
will  begin,  "  when  the  blood  of  the  sinners  will  be  as  high  as  a  horse's 
breast,  and  as  a  chariot  axle,"  and  when  legions  of  angels  shall  appear  in 
the  skies,  and  the  righteous  be  raised  from  the  grave.  The  days  of  the 
Messiah—"  the  Elect,"  "  the  Anointed  One,"  "  the  Son  of  Man,"  who  is 
also  "  Son  of  God" — will  then  begin. 

"The  plants  of  righteousness"  (the  Jewish  nation)  will  flourish  for  ever 
and  ever  under  His  reign,  for  He  is  to  come  forth  from  the  "  throne  of 
the  majesty  of  God,"  and  rule  over  all,  as  the  object  of  universal 
adoration. 

The  pictures  given  of  the  blessedness  of  Israel  in  its  world-wide  empire, 
throw  light  on  the  nobler  side  of  the  Jewish  nature,  for  we  may  seek  in 
vain  for  anything  so  pure  and  lofty  in  the  concejotions  of  any  other  people. 
"Blessed  be  ye,  O  ye  righteous  and  elect  ones,  for  glorious  will  be  your 
lot !  The  righteous  shall  dwell  in  the  liglit  of  the  Sun,  and  the  elect  in 
the  light  of  the  Life  Eternal ;  the  days  of  their  life  shall  have  no  end,  and 
the  days  of  the  holy  ones  shall  be  countless.  And  they  shall  seek  the 
light,  and  find  righteousness  beside  the  Lord  of  Spirits.  The  righteous 
shall  have  peace  with  the  Lord  of  the  World.  They  will  dwell  beside  the 
Water  of  Life,  in  the  gardens  of  righteousness,  and  shine  like  the  light  for 
ever  and  ever.  Their  hearts  will  rejoice,  because  the  number  of  the 
righteous  is  fulfilled,  and  the  blood  of  the  righteous  avenged." 

The  Psalms  of  Solomon,  writtenjit  the  time  of  Pompey's  invasion,  look 
forward  confidently  to  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  and  the  setting  up  of 
the  everlasting  kingdom  of  God,  when  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Jerusalem 
will  be  brought  back  again  from  the  east  and  the  west,  because  Jehovah 
has  had  compassion  on  her  affliction.  The  17th  and  18th  Psalms,  especially, 
bring  before  us,  with  equal  vividness  and  beauty,  the  hopes  that  glowed 
in  the  national  breast  in  the  days  of  Christ,  and  broke  out  into  wild 
violence  in  the  religious  revolt  of  Judas  the  Galilasan.  Joseph,  in  his 
cottage  at  ISTazareth,  may  often  have  listened  to  them,  or  read  them,  for 


214  THE   LIFE    OF    CUEIST. 

tlioy  were  familiar  to  every  Jev^,  and  many  a  group  of  Galiltcaii 
villagers  gathered,  from  time  to  time,  to  licar  tliem  repeated,  in  Eastern 
fashion,  by  some  reader  or  reciter.     They  ran  thus  : — ■ 

"  Lord,  Thou  alone  art  our  King  for  ever  and  ever,  and  in  Thee  shall  our 
souls  make  tlieir  boast.  What  is  the  span  of  man's  life  upon  earth  ? 
Acco]-ding  to  the  time  fixed  by  the  Lord,  and  man's  hope  upon  Him  !  But 
we  hope  in  God  our  Saviour,  because  the  power  of  our  God  is  Vidth  mercy, 
for  ever,  and  the  kingdom  of  our  God  is  over  the  heathen,  for  judgment, 
for  evei". 

"  Thou,  0  Lord,  didst  choose  for  Thyself  David,  to  be  king  over  Israel, 
and  didst  sv.^ear  to  him,  respecting  his  seed  for  ever,  that  tliere  wouhl 
never  fail  a  prince  of  his  house  before  Thee,  for  ever.  But  for  our  sins, 
the  wicked  have  risen  up  against  us ;  they  (the  Asmoucan  party),  whom 
Thou  hast  not  sent  forth,  have  done  violence  against  us,  and  have  gotten 
the  power  over  us.  They  have  put  av/ay  Thy  name  Vvfith  violence,  aiid 
have  not  glorified  it,  though  it  be  above  all  in  majesty  ;  they  have  set  up  a 
king  over  them.  They  have  laid  waste  the  throne  of  David,  with  a  haughty 
shout  of  triumph.  But  Thou,  0  Lord,  wilt  cast  them  down,  Thou  wilt 
take  av/ay  their  seed  from  the  earth,  raising  up  against  them  an  alien,  who 
is  not  of  our  race.  After  their  sins  shalt  Thou  recompense  them,  0  God  ; 
they  will  receive  according  to  their  works.  According  to  their  works  will 
God  show  pity  on  them  !  He  will  hunt  out  their  seed,  and  will  not  let 
them  go.  Faithful  is  the  Lord,  in  all  His  judgments  which  He  performs 
in  the  earth, 

"  He  who  has  not  the  Law  has  desolated  our  land  of  its  inhabitants.  He 
has  made  the  youth,  and  the  old  man,  and  the  child  disappear  together. 
In  his  fury  he  has  sent  away  our  sons  to  the  west ;  and  our  ]:)rince3  he  has 
made  an  open  show,  and  has  not  spared.  Our  enemy  has  done  hauglitily 
in  his  alien  pride,  and  his  heart  is  a  stranger  to  our  God.  And  he  did  all 
things,  in  Jerusalem,  as  the  heathen  do  with  their  idols,  in  their  cities. 
And  the  sons  of  the  covenant  have  been  made  to  serve  them,  and  have  been 
mingled  among  heathen  nations.  There  was  not  one  among  them  who 
showed  pity  or  truth  in  Jerusalem.  Those  who  loved  the  synagogues  of  the 
saints  fled  from  them ;  they  were  driven  away  as  sparrows  from  their  nest. 
They  wandered  in  deserts,  that  their  souls  might  be  saved  from  defilement, 
and  the  wilderness  was  lovely  in  their  sight,  in  saving  their  souls.  They 
wore  scattered  over  the  whole  earth,  by  those  who  have  not  the  Law. 

"  Behold,  0  Lord,  and  raise  up  to  Israel,  their  king,  the  Son  of  David,  at 
the  time  Thou,  0  God,  knowcst,  to  rule  Israel,  Thy  child.  And  gird  him, 
O  Lord,  with  strength,  that  he  may  break  in  pieces  the  unjust  rulers. 
Cleanse  Jerusalem,  in  wisdom  and  righteousness,  from  the  heathen  who 
tread  it  under  foot.  Thrust  out  the  sinners  from  Thine  inheritance; 
grind  to  dust  the  haughtiness  of  the  trangressors ;  shatter  in  pieces  all 
their  strength,  as  a  potter's  vessel  is  shattered  by  a  rod  of  iron.  Destroy 
utterly,  with  the  word  of  Thy  mouth,  the  heathen  that  have  broken  Thy 
Law ;  at  Ilis  coming  let  the  heathen  flee  before  His  face,  and  confound 
Thou  the  sinners  in  the  thoughts  of  their  hearts.  And  He  shall  bring 
together  the  holy  race,  and  shall  lead  them  in  righteousness,  and  He  shall 


BEFORE    THE   DAWN.  215 

judge  the  tribes  of  the  holy  people,  for  the  Lord,  His  God.  And  He  -will 
not  suffer  unrighteousness  to  dwell  in  the  midst  of  them,  nor  will  any 
wicked  man  be  let  dwell  among  them.  For  He  will  take  knowledge 
that  they  are  all  sons  of  God,  and  He  will  portion  them  out  in  their  tribes, 
over  the  land.  And  the  stranger  and  the  foreigner  will  dwell  among 
them  no  more.  He  will  judge  the  people  and  the  heathen,  in  the  wisdom 
of  His  righteousness. 

"  And  He  will  bring  the  peoples  of  the  heathen  under  His  yoke  to  serve 
Him,  and  He  will  exalt  the  Lord  exceedingly,  in  all  the  earth.  And  He 
will  cleanse  Jerusalem  in  righteousness,  so  that,  as_it  was  in  the  beginning, 
the  heathen  shall  come  from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  to  see  His 
glory,  and  her  weary,  wasted  sons  shall  return,  bearing  gifts,  to  see  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  with  which  God  has  glorified  her.  And  He  shall  be  a 
righteous  king  over  them,  taught  of  God.  And  there  shall  bo  no  unright- 
eousness in  their  midst  in  His  days,  because  they  are  all  holy,  and  their 
king  is  the  Christ,  the  Lord.  For  He  shall  not  trust  in  the  horse,  or  the 
chariot,  or  in  the  bow  ;  neither  shall  He  gather  to  Himself  silver  and  gold 
for  war,  and  He  shall  not  trust  in  numbers,  in  the  day  of  battle.  The 
Lord,  Himself,  is  His  king,  and  His  trust  in  the  Mighty  God,  and  HE  shall 
set  all  the  heathen  in  terror  before  Him.  For  He  shall  rule  all  the  earth, 
by  the  word  of  His  mouth,  for  ever.  He  shall  make  the  people  of  the 
Lord  blessed,  in  wisdom  and  in  joy.  And  He,  being  pure  from  sin,  for 
the  ruling  of  a  great  people,  will  rebuke  kings,  and  will  cut  off  trans- 
gressors by  the  might  of  His  "word.  And  He  shall  not  want  help  from 
God,  in  His  days.  For  the  Lord  shall  make  Him  mighty  in  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  Vr^ise  in  counsel,  and  strong,  and  righteous.  And  the  favour  of 
the  Lord  shall  be  His  strength,  and  He  shall  not  be  weak.  His  hope  is  in 
the  Lord,  and  who  can  do  anything  against  Him  ?  Mighty  in  His  doings, 
and  strong  in  the  fear  of  God ;  feeding,  as  a  shepherd,  the  flock  of  the 
Lord,  in  faith  and  righteousness.  He  will  let  no  one  among  them  fail  in  the 
Law,  He  will  lead  them  all  in  holiness,  and  there  will  be  no  haughty 
oppressing  of  them  in  His  rule. 

"  This  is  the  glorious  excellence  of  the  King  of  Israel,  which  is  kuowTi 
to  God.  He  shall  raise  Him  over  the  House  of  Israel,  to  instruct  it.  His 
words  are  pui'er  than  the  most  pure  gold.  He  will  judge  the  people  in 
the  synagogues— the  tribes  of  the  saints.  His  words  will  be  like  words 
of  the  holy  ones,  in  the  midst  of  the  holy  multitudes.  Blessed  are  those 
who  shall  live  in  those  days,  to  see  the  good  things  which  God  shall  do  for 
Israel,  in  the  gathering  together  of  her  tribes.  God  shall  hasten  His 
mercy  towards  Israel.  He  shall  purge  ns  from  the  defilement  of  the 
presence  of  our  enemies,  the  profane.  The  Lord,  He  is  King,  for  ever 
and  ever ! 

"  0  Lord,  Thy  mercy  is  on  the  works  of  Thy  hands  for  ever  and  ever ! 
Thy  goodness  to  Israel  is  a  gift  beyond  price.  Thine  eyes  look  on,  and 
nothing  will  fail  of  Thy  promises.  Thine  ears  will  attend  to  the  supplica- 
tion of  the  needy  who  trusts  in  Thee,  Thy  judgments  arc  in  all  the  earth, 
in  mercy,  and  Thy  love  is  towards  the  seed  of  Abraham,  the  sons  of  Israel 
Thou  hast  Thyself  taught  us,  as  Tln^  son,  Thine  only  begotten,  Thy  first 


216  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

born,  so  that  we  may  turn  an  obedient  heart  away  from  ignorance  and  sin. 

"  God  shall  purify  Israel,  against  the  day  of  mercy  and  blessing,  against 
the  day  of  the  calling  forth  of  His  Christ  (Anointed)  to  rule.  Blessed  are 
those  who  shall  live  in  those  days  !  " 

In  the  Fourth  Book  of  Esdkas,  which  was  circulating  among  the  people 
at  the  birth  of  Christ,  the  nation  found  its  strength  and  weakness,  alike, 
reflected,  and  all  its  religious  hopes  flattered  to  the  utmost.  "  If  the  world 
be  made  for  our  sakcs,  why  do  we  not  possess  our  inheritance  over  it  ?  " 
asks  the  supposed  Ezra.  In  the  fifth  of  a  series  of  "  Visions  of  the  Night," 
for  which  he  had  prepared  by  long  fasting,  he  sees  an  angel  rise  from  the 
sea,  with  twelve  wings  and  three  heads,  the  mystic  symbol  of  the  triumph- 
ant heathen  power  of  the  Syro-  and  Egypto-Macedonian  kings,  and  of  that 
of  Eome,  imder  Cassar,  Antony,  and  then  Octavian,  who  won  the  final 
victory,  and  universal  monarchy.  After  a  time,  he,  Octavian  (Augustus) 
alone,  as  the  one-headed  eagle,  remains.  But  now  appears  a  mighty  Lion 
— the  Messiah — who  calls  with  a  human  voice  to  the  eagle,  "  Art  thou  not 
he  who  remainest  of  the  four  beasts  "  (the  four  heathen  world-empires  of 
Daniel),  "  which  I  created  that  they  might  rule  in  my  world,  that  the  end 
of  times  might  come  through  them  ?  Thou  hast  judged  the  earth,  but  not 
in  truth,  for  thou  liast  troubled  the  peaceful,  and  Avronged  the  unoffending; 
thou  hast  loved  liars,  and  hast  overthrown  the  cities  of  the  industrious, 
and  hast  razed  their  walls,  though  they  did  thee  no  harm.  Thy  wrongful 
dealing  has  risen  to  the  Highest,  and  thy  pride  to  the  Mighty  One.  The 
Most  High,  also,  has  remembered  His  times,  and  behold,  they  are  closed, 
and  the  ages  are  ended.  Therefore,  begone,  0  thou  eagle,,  and  be  seen  no 
more — with  thy  fearful  wings,  thy  baleful  winglets,  thy  ferocious  heads, 
thy  tearing  claws,  and  all  thy  foul  body,  that  the  earth  may  be  refreshed, 
and  may  recover  itself,  when  freed  from  thy  violence,  and  that  she  may 
hope  in  the  justice  and  pity  of  Him  v/ho  made  her !  "  "And  I  looked,  and, 
behold,  the  eagle  was  no  more  seen,  and  all  its  body  was  burned  up,  and 
the  earth  grew  pale  with  fear."  Rome,  then  just  entering  on  its  long 
imperial  history,  and  in  the  height  of  its  greatness,  was  to  be  blotted  out 
from  the  earth  by  the  Messiah.  Past  generations  had  thouglit  the  Syrian 
persecutions  must  be  the  tribulation  which  was  to  herald  the  coming  of 
the  Messiah,  and  to  end  heathen  domination  on  the  earth ;  then  the  perse- 
cutions and  wars  of  the  later  Maccabees ;  then  the  huge  world-turmoil  of 
the  Eoman  civil  wars,  in  succession,  seemed  to  proclaim  His  approach. 
But,  now,  the  supposed  Ezra  looked  for  it  in  the  reign  of  Augustus,  as 
men,  a  little  later,  expected  it  on  the  death  of  Herod.  The  Lion,  rising 
from  the  forest,  would  rebuke  the  haughty  Roman  eagle,  and  would  sit  in 
judgment  on  the  heathen,  free  His  holy  people,  and  bless  them  till  the 
cominij;  of  the  end. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  vision  of  the  Messiah,  presented  by  the  supposed 
Ezra.  "  Behold,"  says  he,  "a  wind  rose  from  the  heart  of  the  sea,  and  in 
it  the  form  of  a  Man  "  (the  Son  of  God),  "  and  all  its  waves  were  troubled. 
And  I  saw,  and  behold  the  Man  came  on  the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  where- 
soever He  turned  His  face  and  looked,  all  tilings  trembled  before  Him,  and 
all  that  heard  His  voice  melted  like  wax  in  the  flame.     But  a  countless 


BEFORE    THE   DAWN.  217 

host  from  all  parts  of  the  earth  came  up  to  make  war  against  Him.  Anil 
He  cut  out  for  Himself,  by  His  word,  a  great  mountain— which  is  IMouut 
7Aon—nnd  stood  on  the  top  of  it,  and  when  the  multitude  pressed  with 
trembling  against  Him,  He  lifted  against  them  neither  hand  nor  weapon, 
Init  consumed  them  utterly  with  a  flood  of  fire  from  His  mouth,  and  the 
lightning  flashes  of  the  storm  from  His  lips,  and  nothing  remained  of  them 
but  smoke  and  ashes.  Then  He  rose  and  came  down  from  the  mountain, 
and  called  to  Him  a  peaceful  multitude,  some  glad  and  some  sorry,  some 
bound  as  captives,  some  bearing  gifts,  and  these  were  the  ten  tribes,  whom 
He  had  brought  from  their  hiding-place  in  a  land  beyond  Assyria,  where 
never  man  else  dwelt,  cleaving  the  Euphrates  to  let  them  pass  over,  and 
gathering  them  to  their  own  land  again,  that  their  brethren  there,  and 
they  from  afar,  might  rejoice  evermore  together." 

To  Esdras,  the  reign  of  the  Idumean  Herod  over  the  Jewish  people 
seems  a  second  note  of  the  culmination  of  heathen  rule  and  its  speedy 
overthrow.  "  The  end  of  this  age,"  says  he,  "  is  Esau,  and  Jacob  is  the 
beeiinninGc  of  that  which  is  to  come ; "  the  death  of  the  Edomite  was  to 
maik  the  opening  of  the  reign  of  the  sons  of  Jacob.  "  During  his  life,  or 
at  his  death,"  says  another  vision,  "  the  Messias  (or  Son  of  God)  will 
descend  from  heaven  with  those  men  vrho  have  not  tasted  of  death,  and 
the  books  will  be  opened  before  the  face  of  the  sky,  and  all  shall  see  them, 
and  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  ever}^  cheek  will  grow  pale  at  the  hear- 
ing it.  And  friends  will  fight  at  that  time  against  friends,  and  the  earth 
shall  tremble  and  all  who  dwell  on  it,  and  the  springs  and  fountains  shall 
cease  running  for  three  hours.  And  the  hearts  of  the  people  shall  be 
changed,  and  they  will  be  turned  into  other  men.  For  all  sin  and  wicked- 
ness will  be  destroyed,  and  faith  will  flourish,  and  corruption  shall  be 
rooted  out,  and  truth,  which  had  been  lost  for  a  long  time,  will  reign." 
Kegions  hitherto  unknown  and  barren  will  be  planted,  to  shame  the 
heathen,  by  showing  the  greater  glory  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  than 
of  theirs.  Yet,  this  golden  age  is  to  last  only  400  years,  at  the  end  of 
which  the  Messiah  will  die.  The  earth  will  then  pass  away.  The  dead 
will.be  raised,  and  the^ great  judgment  held,  after  which  "the  righteous 
shall  go  into  the  presence  of  God,  and  shine  like  the  sun,  and  dwell  in  the 
midst  of  His  everlasting  light,  and  die  no  more,  and  a  single  day  shall  be 
as  seventy  years.  And  they  shall  live  for  ever  and  ever.  But  the  wicked 
shall  go  to  everlasting  fire." 

Such  a  literature,  widely  diffused,  penetrated  the  nation  with  its  spirit, 
and  coloured  its  destiny.  ISTor  were  the  books  quoted  the  only  writings  of 
a  similar  tone  that  everywhere  formed  the  study,  and  fired  the  soul  of  the 
contemporaries  of  Jesus.  A  succession  of  these  heralds  of  the  Messiah 
perpetuated  the  theme.  After  the  Psalms  of  Solomon  and  the  Book  of 
Esdras,  we  have  the  anticipations  of  the  Targums,  and  of  Pliilo,  and  the 
pictures  of  the  Book  of  Jubilees.  In  the  Messiah's  time,  we  read  in  the 
latter,  "the  days  will  begin  to  lengthen,  and  the  children  of  men  will  live 
longer,  from  generation  to  generation,  and  from  day  to  day,  till  their  lives 
come  nigh  to  a  thousand  years.  And  there  will  be  no  more  any  old,  or 
any  weary  of  life,  but  they  will  all  be  like  children  and  boys,  and  will  fulfil 


213  THE    LIFE    OF    GHEIST. 

all  tlieiv  days  in  peace  and  joy,  and  there  will  be  no  accuser  amongst  them, 
or  any  corrupter.     For  all  their  days  will  be  days  of  blessing." 

The  result  of  influences  so  unique,  is  almost  beyond  imagination,  to  an 
age  so  cold  and  practical  as  our  own.  A  parallel  may,  perhaps,  be  found 
in  the  universal  excitement  which  pervaded  Christendom  at  the  end  of 
the  tenth  ccntuiy,  when  the  1,000  years  of  the  Book  of  Eevelation  were 
thought  to  be  closing,  and  the  end  of  the  world  was  believed  at  hand.  The 
consternation  that  then  seized  all,  alike,  made  men  give  up  everything,  to 
be  ready  for  the  descent  of  the  Judge.  It  was  the  one  thought.  Count- 
less pilgrims  sold  all,  and  set  off  to  the  Holy  Land  to  await  the  expected 
Saviour.  Not  less  deep  or  universal  was  the  expectation  of  the  Messiah 
in  the  days  of  Chi'ist,  rousmg  men,  even  against  hope,  once  and  again,  in 
the  literal  use  of  the  words  of  the  Maccabasan  psalm — "  to  take  a  two- 
edged  sword  in  their  hand,  to  execute  vengeance  on  the  heathen,  and 
punishments  on  the  nations ;  to  bind  their  kings  Avith  chains,  and  their 
nobles  with  links  of  iron :  to  execute  upon  them  the  judgments  written. 
This  was  an  honour  granted  to  all  the  Saints." 

The  effect  of  the  long  reign  of  Herod  on  Jewish  parties  was  immense. 
Sprung  from  a  race  which  the  Jews  detested,  and  the  son  of  a  hated  father, 
he  had  owed  it  to  the  Roman  Senate  that  heAvas  able  to  crush  the  national 
liberties  imder  foot,  and  usurp  the  title  of  King  of  Judea,  which  no  stranger 
before  him  had  borne.  His  instincts  were  cruel  and  harsh ;  his  life  and 
tastes,  pagan  and  sensual ;  his  whole  nature  opposed  to  everything  Jewish. 
He  had  murdered  member  after  member  of  his  family,  and  among  others 
the  last  of  the  native  royal  race,  which  the  people  venerated :  he  had  put 
to  death  most  of  the  leading  Eabbis ;  he  had  filled  the  land  with  heathen 
architecture ;  he  had  defiled  Jerusalem  by  a  circus  and  theatre ;  he  had 
degraded  the  pontificate  by  putting  two  high  priests  to  death,  after  depos- 
ing them ;  he  had  violated  the  tomb  of  David,  in  search  of  treasure ;  he 
had  burned  the  national  registers,  so  essential  to  a  people  among  whom  so 
much,  in  their  priesthood  and  common  life,  turned  on  their  descent ;  in 
his  old  age,  he  had  burned  alive  two  famous  Rabbis,  and  slain  many  of  the 
youth  of  Jerusalem,  for  their  zeal  for  the  Law ;  and,  when  dying,  he  had 
left  a  command,  to  murder,  in  cold  blood,  the  collected  elders  of  the 
nation,  to  fill  the  land  with  sorrow  for  itself,  if  not  for  him,  when  he  was 
gone. 

Against  such  a  master  the  two  great  parties,  Pharisees  and  Sadducees, — 
notwithstanding  their  differences,  above  all  things  Jews, — felt  for  the  time 
drawn  closer  together.  Except  the  high  priests,  who  were  Herod's 
creatures,  the  courtiers  who  worshipped  the  power  of  the  day,  and  the 
soldiers  loyal  to  a  warlike  king,  few  Avere  for  Herod.  The  Sadducees  for- 
sook the  court ;  the  high  priesthood  was  for  the  time  taken  from  their 
party.  An  Alexandrian  family  into  which  Herod  had  married,  received 
it  to  ennoble  them,— men  suspected  of  foreign  vicAvs,  royalists  by  alliance, 
and  opposed  to  the  people  by  their  origin.  Tor  the  first  time  we  hear  of 
preachers.  The  last  martyrs  under  Herod — Jr.das,  son  of  Saripheus,  and 
Mattathias,  son  of  Margalouth— were  in  reality  tribunes  of  the  people,  to 
whoso  stirring  addresses,  the  great  riot  in  which  the  golden  eagle  in  the 


BEFORE   THE   DAWN.  919 

temple  was  thrown  dov/ii,  was  due.  Tliey  were  burned  alive,  but  men  of 
the  same  mould  took  their  place,  allies  and  friends  of  the  multitudes  who 
flod  to  tl'.e  hills,  to  emerge  from  time  to  time  from  their  hiding  places,  to 
harass  the  troops  of  Herod.  Eevolutionary  times  always  produce  such 
men,  whom  timeservers  of  their  day  have  been  wont  to  denounce  as 
brigands  or  robbers.  They  were,  however,  in  reality  the  Maccabees  of 
their  age.  "  The  followers  of  Judas  the  Galilajan,"  sa.ys  Josephus,  "  in  all 
their  opinions  are  at  one  with  the  Pharisees  —that  is,  with  the  nation^ — 
but  they  have  an  inextinguishable  passion  for  liberty,  and  will  own  none 
but  God  as  Master ;  they  count  any  tortures  that  they  may  endure,  how- 
ever dreadful,  as  nothing,  nor  do  they  heed  the  sufferings  their  parents  or 
friends  may  bear  for  their  sakcs," — for  these  were  punished  if  the  offenders 
themselves  were  not  caught, — "  but  nothing  will  make  them  call  any  man 
Master."  It  was  for  putting  Hczekiah,  the  father  of  Judas,  to  death,  in 
the  beginning  of  his  reign,  that  the  Sanhedrim,  then  still  vigorous,  tried 
to  bring  Herod  to  trial,  which  they  never  would  have  done  on  behalf  of  a 
mere  "  robber."  What  the  nation  thought  of  his  son  Judas  is  shown  in 
the  words  of  a  Rabbi,  "  In  the  world  to  come,  God  will  gather  round  Judas 
a  multitude  like  him,  and  Avill  set  them  before  His  face."  Men  of  the  same 
type  had  appeared  before  Pompeyat  Damascus,  pleading  the  cause  neither 
of  Hyrcanus  nor  Aristobulus,  Imt  of  the  people  of  God,  whose  institutions 
had  never  favoured  royalty.  But  it  was  under  Herod,  and  immediately 
after  his  death,  that  these  ideas  first  became  the  cry  of  any  organized  party. 
The  people  had  tii-ed  of  the  dry  and  lifeless  discussions  of  the  Rabbis. 
Their  subtleties  and  legal  distinctions  left  their  hearts  untouched.  But 
men  had  risen  like  Hezekiah,  Judas  of  Galilee,  Mattathias,  and  Judas,  son 
of  Saripheus,  whose  harangues  set  their  souls  on  fire.  These  earnest 
spirits  did  not  trouble  with  barren  decisions ;  they  preached  and  roused. 
They  did  not  dispute  about  some  obscure  chapter  of  Exodus  or  Leviticus ; 
their  texts  were  the  inspired  words  of  the  prophets,  the  burning  and 
eloquent  exhortations  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah.  These  they  recited,  com- 
mented on,  and  enlarged,  before  multitudes  eager  to  hear  them.  The 
voice  of  the  ancient  Oracles  had  retained  all  its  freshness,  and  suited  the 
passing  times  as  if  written  respecting  them.  For  Jehoiakim  men  read 
Herod ;  Rome  took  the  place  of  Babylon ;  and  the  gloomy  prophecies  of 
Jeremiah  seemed  about  to  be  fulfilled  anew  on  the  second  Temple.  For 
the  last  time,  the  almost  withered  tree  of  Jewish  nationality  seemed  to  live 
again.  In  the  soil  of  the  Word  of  God  it  grew  green  once  more,  and 
pushed  out  some  last  branches,  but  all  the  prophets  through  whose 
impulse  it  thus  revived,  paid  for  the  dangerous  glorj-  by  a  violent  death. 

In  the  lifetime  of  Jesus,  parties  had  thus  become  transformed.  The 
Boethusians,  or  Alexandrians,  raised  to  the  pontificate  by  Herod,  became 
the  royalists.  They  hoped  to  be  able,  under  him  and  the  Romans,  to 
maintain  ecclesiastical  matters  as  they  were,  and  keep  hold  of  their 
privileges.  They  were  the  high-priestly  families  whose  harshness  and 
violence  are  handed  down  to  us  in  the  Talmud.  "  A  curse  on  the  family 
of  Boethos,  a  curse  on  their  spears  " — was  the  anathema  muttered  in  the 
streets   of  Jerusalem — "  a  curse   on  the  family  of  Hannas !    a  curse  on 


220  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

their  vipcr-likc  hissings  !  A  curso  on  the  family  of  Kanthcra !  a  curse  on 
their  fine  feathers  !  A  curse  on  the  family  of  Ismacl  Ben  Phabi !  a  curse 
on  their  fists  !  They  are  high  priests  themselves,  their  sons  keep  the 
money,  their  sons-in-law  ai'c  captains,  and  their  servants  smite  the  j)Cople 
with  their  staves."  "  The  a])proaches  of  the  sanctuary,"  continues  the 
Talmud,  "echo  with  four  cries— 'Depart  hence,  ye  sons  of  Eli,  you  pollute 
the  Temple  of  the  Eternal:'  'Depart  hence,  Issachar  Kcfr  Barkai,  who 
think  only  of  yourself,  and  profane  the  consecrated  victims.' — for  he  wore 
silken  gloves  to  protect  his  hands  in  his  ministrations.  Then,  in  keen 
irony,  comes  the  cry — '  Open  your  gates,  0  Temple,  and  let  Ismacl  Ben 
Phabi,  the  disciple  of  Phinehas,  enter,  that  he  may  perform  the  high- 
priestly  rites;'  and,  finally,  a  fourth  voice— 'Open  wide,  ye  gates!  and 
let  Johauan,  the  son  of  Nebedia,  the  disciple  of  gluttons  and  gourniand.s, 
enter,  that  he  may  gorge  on  the  sacrifices  ! '  "  No  wonder  this  last  pupil 
of  his  Eoman  masters  won  such  a  name,  if  the  Talmud  may  be  believed  in 
its  statement,  that  he  had  three  hundred  calves,  aiid  as  many  casks  of 
wine,  and  forty  scabs  of  joigeons,  set  apart  for  his  kitchen. 

The  luxury  and  audacity  of  some  of  the  high  priests  were  pushed  so  far, 
that  it  is  related  of  Tsmael  Ben  Phabi  that  his  mother  made  a  tunic  for 
him,  that  cost  a  hundred  mina3 — about  £330.  The  mother  of  Eliezer  Ben 
Ifai'som  had  a  similar  I'obe  made  for  him,  if  we  may  credit  it,  at  a  cost  of 
20,000  minge— £66,000,  but  it  was  so  fine  that  the  other  priests  would  not 
let  him  wear  it,  because  he  seemed  naked  from  its  transparency.  The  ex- 
aggeration is,  doubtless,  great,  for  the  fortune  of  this  pontifical  millionaire 
is  a  favourite  theme  of  Eabbiuical  fancy,  but  such  exaggeration  itself 
springs  only  from  truth,  striking  enough  to  arrest  the  imagination.  The 
high  priesthood  had,  in  fact,  sunk  to  the  extremest  corruption.  "  To  what 
time,"  asks  Rabbi  Jochanan,  "do  the  words  refer — 'The  fear  of  the  Lord 
prolongeth  life '  ?  To  that  of  the  first  Temple,  which  stood  about  four 
hundred  and  ten  years,  and  had  only  eighteen  high  priests  from  first  to 
last.  And  to  what  time  do  the  other  words  refer — '  And  the  years  of  the 
wicked  shall  be  shortened '  ?  To  that  of  the  second  Tcmj^le,  which  stood 
four  hundred  and  twenty  years,  and  had  more  than  three  hundred  high 
priests  :  for,  deducting  eighty-five  years  for  five  exceptional  reigns,  less 
than  a  single  year  is  left  for  each  of  all  the  other  high  priests." 

The  Pharisees  and  Sadducees,  in  these  dark  years,  had  to  withdraw 
completely  from  political  life,  and  seek  consolation  in  the  study  of  the 
Law,  and  in  attracting  the  people  to  the  schools  where  they  taught  or  dis- 
cussed. The  extreme  party  among  the  former— the  Zealots,  the  Jacobins 
of  the  age,  or  rather  its  Maccabees — were  enthusiastically  popular  with 
the  youth  of  the  nation.  Stei'n  puritans,  who  knew  no  compromise,  they 
dreamed  of  triumphing,  in  their  weakness,  over  the  armies  of  the  mistress 
of  the  world,  by  the  help  of  God,  for  whom  they  believed  they  fought. 
No  danger  appalled  their  magnificent  devotion,  no  sacrifice  daunted  tlieir 
heroism.     They  were  the  rising  party,  from  the  time  of  Herod's  death. 

Thus,  from  about  the  time  of  Christ's  birth,  religion  became,  once  more, 
the  great  factor  of  Jewish  national  life.  The  bloody  king  had  died  in  the 
midst  of  rumours  of  the  close  approach  of  the  Messiah. 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   HEAVEN   IS   AT   HAND.  221 

The  visit  of  the  Magi,  almost  immediately  before,  must  have  fanned  the 
popular  excitement  still  more,  nor  would  the  massacre  at  Bethlehem  be 
without  its  influence  on  the  public  mind.  The  insurrection  of  Mattathias 
and  Judas,  at  the  head  of  the  youth  of  the  city,  another  incident  of  these 
eventful  months,  had  only  anticipated  the  theocratic  movement,  to  be 
made,  as  all  hoped,  with  success,  as  soon  as  the  tyrant  was  dead.  The 
wild  outbreaks  headed  by  Simon  the  slave  of  Herod,  Judas  the  Galilcean, 
and  Athronges  the  Perean  shepherd,  were  all,  more  or  less,  connected  with 
religion.  The  deputation  of  fifty  Jews,  sent  to  Eome  to  petition  Augustus 
to  set  aside  the  Herods,  and  permit  the  restoration  of  the  old  theocracy, 
had  aroused  the  Jewish  population  of  Eome  itself.  The  Rabbis  martyred 
for  destroying  the  golden  eagle,  and  Judas  and  his  colleague  Zadok  the 
Eabbi,  had,  moreover,  by  tlieir  inspiring  harangues  and  appeals  to  Scrip- 
ture, as  well  as  by  their  hei-oism  and  the  lofty  grandeur  of  their  aims, 
given  such  an  impulse  to  religious  enthusiasm,  and  created  such  an  ideal 
of  patriotic  devotion,  that  the  youth,  of  the  country,  henceforth,  pressed 
ever  more  zealously  in  their  steps.  Even  the  old  looked  on  them  as  the 
glory  of  their  age.  Patriotism  became  more  and  more  identified  with 
fiery  zeal  for  the  Law,  and  war  with  the  heathen  for  its  sake  became  the 
religious  creed  of  the  multitude. 


CHAPTEE  XXTII. 

THE    KINGDOM   OF   UEAVEN    IS    AT    HAND. 

f  I  1  rilETY  years  of  the  life  of  Christ  had  passed  in  the  seclusion  of 
-*-  ISTazareth.  In  early  youth  He  had  learned  Joseph's  trade,  and  had 
spent  the  long  years  that  had  intervened,  in  the  duties  of  His  humble 
calling,  for  humble  it  must  have  been  in  a  mountain  village,  where  there 
could  be  no  demand  for  the  skill  required  in  larger  communities,  in  that 
age  of  civic  embellishment.  It  is  well  for  mankind  that  He  chose  such  a 
lowly  lot.  He  could  sympathise  more  keenly  with  the  humble  poor,  from 
having  Himself  shared  their  burden,  l^or  could  labour  have  been  more 
supremely  honoured  than  by  the  Saviour  giving  Himself  to  life-long  toil. 
Work — the  condition  of  health,  the  law  of  progress,  the  primal  duty  in 
Eden,  and  the  safeguard  of  every  virtue  in  all  ages,  is  touched  with  a 
grand  nobility  by  the  spectacle  of  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth.  Idleness,  in 
any  rank,  becomes  doubly  a  vice  from  the  remembrance  of  such  a  lesson. 

How  these  thirty  years  of  obscurity  were  passed  is  left  untold,  beyond 
the  incidental  mention  of  the  calling  Jesus  pursued.  Joseph,  according  to 
old  tradition,  died  when  Jesus  was  eighteen  years  old,  and  it  seems 
certain,  from  the  fact  that  he  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Gospels  during 
Christ's  public  life,  that  he  died  at  least  before  that  began.  From  the 
time  of  his  death,  it  is  said,  doubtless  correctly,  Jesus  supported  His 
mother  by  the  work  of  His  hands,  at  least,  in  common  with  the  others  of 
the  household.  It  is  added  that  He  had  grown  up  with  four  brothers, 
James,  Joseph,   Simon,  and  Jude,  and  at  least  two  sisters,  whose  names 


222  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

arc  said  to  have  been  Estlier  and  Tamar ;  but  Judo  and  Simon,  and  both 
tlio  sisters,  we  are  told,  married  before  Joseph's  death,  and  settled  in  the 
town  of  Nazareth.  Some  think  that  Salome,  the  mother  of  James  and 
John,  and  wife  of  Zebcdee,  was  Mary's  elder  sister ;  others  identify  lier 
with  the  Mary  who  married  Clopas-Alphajus,  of  JTazareth,  but  he,  like 
Joseph,  appears  to  have  died  before  Jesus  began  His  ministry.  This 
couple  seem  to  have  had  two  sons,  James  and  Joses,  but  it  is  not  related 
whether  they  had  any  daughters.  The  two  households  formed  the  family 
circle  of  which  Jesus  was  the  wondrous  centre.  Tradition  fills  up  the  out- 
line of  one  or  two  of  those  thus  honoured — notably  of  James,  afterwards 
the  saintly  head  of  the  Church  of  Jerusalem— a  Nazarite  from  his  child- 
hood, and  a  martyr  in  his  old  age.  Christ's  brothers,  Simon  and  Jude, 
are  also  mentioned  incidentally ;  the  one  as  head  of  the  Church  of 
Jerusalem  after  James's  death  ;  the  other  as  having  left  descendants  who 
were  cited  before  ]  Domitiau,  as  belonging  to  the  kingly  race  of  David. 
"  There  were  yet  living  of  the  family  of  our  Lord,"  says  Eusebius,  from 
Hegesippus,  who  wrote  about  the  year  160,  "  the  grandchildren  of  Judas, 
called  the  Ijrothcr  of  our  Lord,  according  to  the  flesh.  These  were  re- 
ported as  being  of  the  family  of  David,  and  were  brought  to  Doraitian. 
For  the  emperor  was  as  much  alarmed  about  the  appearing  of  Christ  as 
Herod  had  been.  He  put  the  question,  whether  they  were  of  David's  race, 
and  they  confessed  that  they  were.  Tie  then  asked  them  what  property 
they  had,  or  how  much  money  they  owned.  And  both  of  them  answered  that 
they  had  between  them  only  nine  thousand  denarii  (under  three  hundred 
pounds),  and  this  they  had,  not  in  silver,  but  in  the  value  of  a  piece  of 
land,  containing  only  thirty-nine  acres,  from  which  they  raised  their  taxes, 
and  supported  themselves  by  their  own  labour.  They  also  began  to  show 
their  hands,  how  they  were  hard  and  rough  with  daily  toil."  Domitiau 
then  asked  tliem  some  questions  about  Christ,  and,  after  hearing  their 
answers,  dismissed  them  in  contemptuous  silence,  as  simple  fools  whom  it 
was  not  worth  while  to  trouble.  The  momentary  glim.jises  still  left  us  of 
the  home  circle  of  Nazareth  thus  show  lis  a  group  of  brothers,  partly 
working  a  small  farm,  but  all  in  humble  life,  and  all,  alike,  marked  by  so 
strict  an  observance  of  the  Law,  that,  even  in  their  old  age,  the  Jews  them- 
selves, and  the  Jewish  Christians,  held  them  in  honour  on  this  account. 

Communion  with  His  own  heart ;  the  quiet  gathering  in  of  all  the 
lessons  of  life  and  nature  arouiid;  deep  study  of  the  thoughts  and  hearts 
of  men ;  a  silent  mastery  of  the  religious  ideas  of  the  day,  and  a  deep 
knowledge  of  the  religious  parties  of  the  people,  were  daily  advancing 
Avlth  Jesus.  But  in  His  spiritual  life,  in  these  years,  as  to  the  end,  solitai'y 
prayer  and  long  continued  communion  with  God,  where  no  eye  saw  and 
no  ear  heard  Him,  were,  doubtless,  His  constant  characteristics.  The 
Scriptures  heard  in  the  synagogues,  or  studied  in  the  household,  were  His 
habitual  delight,  till  His  intellect  and  heart  were  so  saturated  with  their 
words  and  spirit,  that  He  knew  them  better  than  the  scribes  and  Phari- 
sees, who  claimed  to  make  them  the  one  subject  of  their  thoughts. 

He  mast  have  been  a  mystery  to  His  household.  He  had  been  so  even 
to  His  mother,  from  the  time  of  the  Temple  visit,  and  He  ixiust  have  be- 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   HEAVEN    IS   AT    HAND.  223 

corae,  more  and  more  so  as  He  went  on  His  own  way,  joining  no  party, 
silent,  tliouglitfnl,  self-contained,  given  to  solitude,  and  with  a  strange 
light  in  His  eyes,  which  looked  as  if  they  saw  into  the  very  soul  of  those 
on  whom,  they  were  turned.  His  brothers  and  sisters  could  not  understand 
Him,  even  after  He  had  become  a  public  teacher.  Alone  in  that  beautiful 
world  of  Galilee,  with  its  skies  filled  with  light^ts  green  plains  and 
valleys,  wooded  hills,  and  shining  sea;  amidst  a  brave,  bright,  fiery,  noble 
people,  and  yet  so  difEerent  from  them — a  faithful  son,  a  patient  worker  at 
His  daily  toil,  a  friend  of  children  and  of  the  poor  and  needy,  gentle,  lov- 
ing, pure,  and  yet  so  wholly  apart  by  His  very  perfection — we  may  almost 
think  He  must  have  been  avoided  rather  than  sought. 

Taught  by  Joseph  and  Mary,  and  in  the  synagogue  school,  Jesus  had 
learned  the  Hebrew — which  had  long  ceased  to  be  a  spoken  language — so 
as  both  to  read  and  write  it.  Syro-Chaldaic  was  the  language  of  the 
people,  and  thus  His  mother  tongue ;  but  He  must  also  have  gained  know- 
ledge enough  of  Greek,  from  its  being  spoken  by  so  many  in  the  different 
towns  of  the  country,  to  converse  with  those  who  knew  no  other  speech 
used  in  Palestine — such  as  the  centurion  or  Pilate,  or  the  Greeks  who 
sought  an  interview  with  Him  in  the  last  week  of  His  life. 

Amidst  the  many  homely  engagements  of  such  a  sphere,  year  after  year 
passed  quietly  and  obscurely  away.  Events  around,  and  in  Judea,  were 
not  wanting  to  keep  tongues  busy  in  the  market  place  or  in  the  streets, 
and  thoughtful  hearts  grew  daily  more  so,  as  to  the  issue  of  all  that 
reached  them  from  the  great  world  outside  their  hills.  Meanwhile,  the 
house  of  Mary  must  have  been  the  ideal  of  a  happy  home  in  its  relations 
with  her  mysterious  Son.  His  childlike  hmnility,  sunny  contentment, 
stainless  purity,  watchful  tenderness,  and  transparent  simplicity  of  soul, 
would  find  expression  in  an  ever  ready  delight  in  pleasing,  an  infinite 
patience,  an  attractive  meekness,  and  a  constant  industry.  The  discipline 
by  which  His  human  character  was  perfected  was  not  confined  to  the 
closing  years  of  His  life,  when  He  came  publicly  before  men,  but  began 
with  His  childhood  and  lasted  to  the  end.  We  grow  firm  and  strong  to 
resist  and  to  do ;  we  gain  the  mastery  of  ourselves  which  brings  superi- 
ority, by  a  patient  use  of  the  incidents  of  daily  life.  To  rule  one's  own 
spirit  on  the  petty  theatre  of  a  private  sphere,  creates  a  power  which  goes 
with  us  to  wider  fields  of  action.  The  principles  and  graces  which  stand 
the  storms  of  public  life  must  have  been  trained  in  the  school  of  our  daily 
world.  Even  to  have  to  wait  for  thirty  years  before  the  day  came  to  begin 
His  great  work,  was  itself  a  discipline  to  a  holy  soul.  How  must  He  have 
sighed  over  the  evils  of  the  times ;  over  the  sufferings  of  His  fellow-men ; 
over  the  loss  of  apparent  opportunities;  over  the  long-permitted  reign  of 
evil.  Enthusiasm  burns  to  go  out  on  its  mission,  and  frets  at  delay, 
blaming  itself  if  a  moment  appear  to  be  lost.  But  Jesus  learned  at 
ISTazareth  to  wait  His  Father's  time.  Till  "  His  hour  was  come  "  He  could 
control  His  longings,  and  wait  for  the  Divine  sanction,  in  obscurity  so 
complete,  that  even  IS'athanacl,  at  Cana,  only  a  few  miles  off,  never  heard 
of  Him  till  His  public  ministry  had  begun,  and  His  fellow-townsmen  had 
no  suspici(m  of  His  being  more  than  Jesus,  the  carpenter. 


224  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Thus,  although  reth'ed,  these  j^ears  were  in  no  measure  lost.  The 
Divine  wisdom,  which  marks  out  the  life  of  all  mcu,  must  have  especially 
watched  and  planned  that  of  the  Pei-fcct  One  of  Nazareth.  These  un- 
known secluded  years  teach  us  that  the  noblest  lives  may  yet  be  the  most 
obscure;  that  life,  in  the  highest  sense,  is  not  mere  action,  but  the  calm 
reign  of  love  and  duty,  towards  God  and  man,  in  our  allotted  sphere — 
that  the  truest  and  holiest  joy  is  not  necessarily  that  of  public  activity, 
far  less  that  of  excitement  and  noise,  but,  rather,  where  amidst  the  calm 
surrounding  God  and  heaven  are  mirrored  in  an  untroubled  spirit.  Com- 
pared with  the  last  years  of  His  life,  with  their  agitation  and  ceaseless 
labour,  Jesus,  doubtless,  often  looked  back  fondly  on  the  quiet  days  of 
JSTazarcth,  where  the  skies,  filled  with  cloudless  light,  or  the  silent  splen- 
dour of  the  stars,  or  the  dream  of  loveliness  in  all  nature,  far  and  near, 
were  only  emblems  of  the  heaven  of  His  own  soul. 

With  the  growth  in  years,  His  riper  faculties  would  find  a  growing 
delight  in  the  highest  knowledge.  Even  as  a  boy.  He  had  shown  a  Divine 
love  of  truth,  and  a  supreme  devotion  to  God,  which  found  its  natural  joy 
in  "  seeking  and  asking,"  wherever  He  could  hope  to  learn,  Avhether  in  the 
school  of  the  Rabbis,  in  the  Temple,  or  from  townsmen  of  Nazareth.  He 
had  doubtless  a  premonition  of  His  calling,  which  urged  Him  on.  Each 
day  more  lovable.  He  would  each  day  become  more  thoughtful.  He  might 
gather  much  from  without,  but  His  soul  developed  itself  mainly  from 
within. 

Meamvhile,  the  time  was  drawing  near  for  His  manifestation  to  Israel. 

Political  oppression,  by  a  natural  reaction,  had  roused  the  hopes  of  a 
great  national  future,  to  an  intensity  unknown  before,  even  in  Israel. 
But  while,  at  other  times,  similar  hopes  had  affected  only  the  narrow 
bounds  of  Judea,  they  now  went  beyond  it,  and  agitated  the  whole  world. 
They  fell  in  with  the  instinctive  feeling,  which  in  that  age  pei'vaded  all 
counti'ies,  that  the  existing  state  of  things  could  not  continue. 

The  reign  of  evil  throughout  the  world  seemed  to  have  reached  its 
height.  In  Rome,  the  infamous  Sejanus,  long  the  favourite  of  Tiberius, 
had  at  last  fallen,  but  not  till  his  career  had  filled  the  world  with  horror. 
The  enforcement  of  obsolete  usiiry  laws  had  spread  financial  ruin  over  the 
empire.  Forced  sales  made  property  almost  worthless.  Bankruptcy 
spread  far  and  near.  The  courts  were  filled  with  men  imploring  a  repeal 
of  the  obnoxious  laws,  and,  meanwhile,  the  capitalists  kept  back  their 
money.  Business  was  paralyzed  throughout  the  world.  Many  of  the  rich 
were  reduced  to  beggary,  and  the  misery  of  the  poor  became  more  ijitense. 
To  add  to  the  universal  ruin,  informers  reigned  supreme  at  Rome,  and 
even  the  forms  of  law  were  forgotten.  Multitudes,  both  innocent  and 
guilty,  perished  in  the  Roman  jails— men,  women,  and  childi-en— their 
bodies  being  throAvn  into  the  Tiber.  To  add  to  all,  the  vices  of  Tiberius, 
fraught  with  evil  to  the  world,  grew  daily  more  monstrous.  Old  age  and 
debauchery  had  bent  his  body,  and  covered  his  face  with  ugly  blotches, 
but  his  ta:5te  for  obscene  pleasures  steadily  increased,  and,  to  indulge  them, 
he  shut  himself  up  in  loathsome  retirement.  Virtue  and  life  were  alike 
at  his  mercy  :  no  one  was  safe  from  infamous  delators.     A  reign  of  terror 


THE    KINGDOM    OF   HEAVEN    IS   AT    HAND.  225 

prevailed.  Legal  mnvclers  and  remorseless  confiscations  were  increasinsj ; 
immorality  and  crime  held  high  carnival.  The  most  distant  countries 
trembled  before  Rome,  but  its  rule  may  be  judged  by  the  guilt,  cruelty, 
and  corruption  at  the  centre. 

The  misgoverned  East  was  deeply  agitated  by  the  uneasy  presentiment 
of  an  impending  change.  ISfot  only  Judea,  but  the  neighbouring  countries, 
were  full  of  restless  expectation. 

Thus,  in  jjerhaps  the  very  year  in  which  John  the  Baptist  appeared,  the 
Egyptian  priests  announced  that  the  bird  known  as  the  Phoenix  had  once 
more  been  seen.  Originally  the  mythological  emblem  of  the  sun,  it  had 
gradually  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  representative  of  the  cycles  of  the 
history  of  the  world,  appearing  at  regular  intervals,  to  consume  itself,  and 
rise  anew  from  its  ashes,  in  mystic  indication  of  the  end  of  one  great 
psriod  and  the  opening  of  another.  It  had  appeared  under  Sesostris, 
under  Amasis,  and  under  Ptolemy,  the  third  king  of  the  Macedonian 
dynasty.  That  it  should  appear  now,  seemed  strange,  as  the  intervals  of 
its  return  had  hitherto  been  1,461  and  500  years,  but  it  was  only  250  since 
Ptolemy.  Meanwhile,  the  sacred  colleges  of  the  capital  confirmed  what 
was  announced  by  the  Egyptian  priests.  If  the  Egyptian  consoled  him- 
self, amidst  the  oppressions  of  the  evil  days  of  Tiberius,  by  the  fond  belief 
that  the  mysterious  bird  was  about  to  bear  away  the  expiring  age,  the 
priestly  college  of  Rome  reckoned  that  the  great  world-year  was  about 
to  end,  and  the  age  of  Saturn  to  return.  According  to  the  augurs,  the 
ninth  world-month,  and,  with  it,  the  reign  of  Diana,  had  closed  with 
Cajsar  s  death,  and  the  last  month,  that  of  Apollo,  had  begun.  As,  more- 
over, the  secular  months  were  of  unequal  length,  it  seemed  as  if  the  end 
of  all  things  were  at  hand.  Yirgil,  in  the  generation  before  Christ,  had 
already  written  his  Fourth  Eclogue,  with  its  pictures  of  the  coming  golden 
age,  borrowed  from  Isaiah,  through  the  medium  of  the  Jewish  Sibylline 
poems,  then  widely  circulated  throughout  the  world.  It  seems  a  satire  on 
his  visions  of  future  happy  years,  that  the  child,  of  whom  he  wrote  in  such 
lofty  strains,  not  only  failed  to  bring  in  a  golden  age,  but  died  of  hunger, 
under  Tiberius,  in  the  very  year,  it  would  seem,  in  Avhich  Jesus  Avas  cruci- 
fied. The  legend  of  the  death  of  the  great  god,  Pan,  which,  according  to 
Plutarch,  happened  in  the  days  of  Tiberius,  shows  the  same  deep  and 
boding  presentiment,  in  the  ancient  world  that  a  great  change  was  at 
hand. 

"At  that  time,"  it  relates,  "a  ship,  when  off  Corfu,  was  strangely  be- 
calmed, and,  forthwith,  the  Egyptian  helmsman,  Thamnus,  heard  a  loud 
voice  from  the  Echiuadian  Islands  call  him  by  name,  and  bid  him  say, 
when  he  got  to  Palodes,  that  the  great  god.  Pan,  was  dead.  The  Egyptian 
did  as  he  was  bidden,  but  scarcely  had  he  called  out  his  message  over  the 
shore  that  had  been  named  to  him,  when  there  rose,  around,  a  great  sigh- 
ing, and  a  sound  as  of  wonder,  that  filled  the  passengers  with  awe ;  the 
story,  when  it  was  told  in  Rome,  troubling  the  Emperor  Tiljerius  and  the 
people  not  a  little."  The  great  Pan  was,  indeed,  dead,  and  the  other  gods 
wailed  over  his  bier.  The  oracles  and  sacred  utterances  of  the  time 
breathe  a  dark  dread  of  a  coming  world-catastrophe.     The  bright  day  of 

Q 


226  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

the  Augustan  age  had  long  passed.  Tlie  aiv  over  Eome  smelt  of  blood. 
Murder  and  suicide  were  the  fashion,  and  even  women  Avere  not  safe  from 
the  daggei'.  Financial  distress  brought  want  to  the  mass.  Even  the 
provinces  suffered  by  the  awful  monetary  crisis.  In  Palestine,  men  saw 
their  future  king,  Agrippa,  reduced  to  the  greatest  straits  for  money, 
borrowing  where  he  could,  glad  to  accept  funds  secretly  offered  to  gain 
his  influence, — for  a  time  dependent  for  his  very  food  on  Herod  Ant  ipas, 
and,  in  the  end,  a  fugitive  from  his  usurious  creditors.  The  debtor,  the 
creditor,  and  the  jail,  which  recur  so  often  in  the  parab^.es,  were  illustra- 
tions only  too  vividly  realized  by  the  people  at  large.  It  was  a  time  of 
change,  transition,  universal  doubt,  uncertainty,  and  expectation.  In  the 
heathen  world,  men  did  not  know  what  to  tliink  of  the  future ;  in  Judea, 
they  looked  for  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  Messiah.  The  drama  of 
ancient  society  had  been  played  out ;  a  vast  empire  had  risen  on  the  ruins 
of  the  nationalities  that  had,  hitherto,  kept  men  apart,  and  its  triumphs 
had  discredited  the  local  gods,  to  whom  men  had  everywhere  looked  for 
protection.  A  calm  had  followed  ages  of  universal  war  between  city  and 
city,  and  state  and  state,  and  had  revolutionized  life.  Corruption  and 
oppression  had  followed  in  the  Avake  of  dominion,  and  had  filled  the  world 
with  vague  longings  for  a  higher  morality,  and  the  hopes  of  a  nobler 
religion  than  the  decayed  systems  around  them.  The  very  triumph  of 
one  power  over  all  others  had,  indeed,  before  all  things  besides,  opened 
the  way  for  the  new  faith  of  Christ.  The  isolation  of  hostile  races  bad 
been  broken  down,  and  the  dim  but  magnificent  conception  of  a  brother- 
hood of  men,  though,  as  yet,  only  as  subjects  of  a  universal  despotism,  had 
risen  in  the  mind  of  all  peoples.  The  highways  of  Kome  invited  com- 
munication with  all  lands  ;  her  government  and  laws  guaranteed  order 
and  safety  wherever  they  obtained ;  but,  above  all,  she  had  prepared  the 
world  for  a  religion  which  should  address  all  humanity,  by  levelling  the 
innumerable  barriers  of  rival  nationality — with  their  jealousies  and  im- 
penetrable prejudices,  and  linking  all  races  into  a  single  grand  federa- 
tion, with  common  sympathies,  and  as  fellow-citizens  of  the  same  great 
dominion. 

It  was  amidst  such  a  state  of  things,  when  the  fabric  of  society  seemed 
dissolving,  and  the  new  world  had  not  yet  risen  from  the  chaos  of  the  old, 
that  the  destined  herald  of  a  new  moral  order  was  born,  apparently,  in 
Hebron.  The  son  of  a  pure  and  worthy  priest— John,  the  future  Baptist, 
was,  from  his  birth,  surrounded  by  the  influences  raiost  fitted  to  develope  a 
saintly  character.  Of  priestly  descent,  on  his  mother's  side  as  well  as  his 
father's,  he  began  life  with  all  the  advantages  of  an  ancient  ancestry,  every 
link  of  which  in  the  eyes  of  a  Jew,  was  noble.  In  the  society  of  Hebron, 
his  parents  would  have  a  prominent  position,  and  their  young  son  must 
have  been  surrounded,  on  their  account,  with  the  respect  which  insensibly 
educates  and  refines.  His  early  education,  received  at  the  hands  of  his 
father  and  mother,  would  take  the  colour  of  their  position  and  training. 
The  child  would  hear,  from  his  infancy,  the  history  of  his  people,  and  of 
the  great  priestly  race  whose  blood  ran  in  his  veins.  His  genealogy  waa 
no  doubtful  conjecture,  but  clear  and  well  established  through  fourteen 


THE    KINGDOM    OP   HEAVEN    IS   AT   HAND.  227 

centuries,  Hglited  up,  at  intervals,  by  traditions  of  famous  names,  and  as 
famous  deeds.  The  child  of  strict  observers  of  the  Law,  he  woTild  grow 
up  with  a  religious  reverence  for  its  minutest  prescriptions,  its  feasts  and 
fasts,  its  Sabbaths  and  new  moons,  its  ten  thousand  rules  on  meats  and 
drinks,  dress,  furniture,  dishes,  conversation,  reading,  travelling,  meeting, 
parting,  buying,  selling,  cooking,  the  washing  of  pots,  cups,  tables,  and 
person — that  slavery  of  ritualism  to  which  pious  Jews  gave  a  trembling 
and  anxious  obedience.  From  his  earliest  years  he  would  feel  that  he 
could  not  eat,  driiik,  clotlie  himself,  wash  his  hands  or  feet,  batlio,  or  pei*- 
form  the  most  secret  function,  exce^it  by  set  rules.  He  would  be  ti'ained 
in  the  ideas  of  the  system  into  which  he  had  been  born,  which  mapped  out 
his  every  act,  and  word,  and  thought,  and  denounced  every  deviation  from 
the  all-embracing  rules  of  Eabljinism  as  a  sin,  fatal  to  his  caste  as  a  Jew. 

Born  in  the  priestly  rank,  and,  therefore,  himself  a  destined  priest  here- 
aftci%  John  would  early  learn  all  the  details  of  the  Temple  service,  and, 
doubtless,  often  went  with  his  parents  to  the  Temple,  the  glittering  pin- 
nacles of  which  he  could  see  from  Hebron.  The  countless  pilgrims  at  the 
great  feasts  ;  the  solemnities  of  the  altar,  with  its  turbaued,  white-robed, 
bare-footed  priests  ;  the  swelling  music  of  the  Levites,  who,  each  morning, 
sang  the  psalms  of  the  day,  in  the  inner  court,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
citherns,  harps,  and  cymbals,  and  the  deep  roll  of  the  great  Temple  organ, 
whose  music  the  Eabbis,  with  fond  exaggeration,  spoke  of  as  heard  at 
Jericho, — would  be  familiar  and  dear  to  him,  and  the  splendour  of  the 
newly  built  Temple,  resplendent  in  snowy  marble  and  gold,  would  kindle 
at  once  his  pride  and  affection.  We  all  rise  to  manhood  coloured  by  the 
influences  around  us,  and  these  in  his  case  all  tended  to  the  narrowest 
Judaism.  Living  almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  Temple,  he  was  in  the 
centre  of  whatever  was  most  rigid  and  intolerant ;  unlike  Jesus,  whose 
Galilasan  home  kept  him  in  a  freer  air,  far  from  the  dead  conservatism  of 
the  Temple  city,  and  from  the  bigotiy  of  its  schools  and  people. 

But  though  thus,  by  birth,  education,  and  circumstances,  naturally  a 
strict  and  rigid  Jew,  higher  inspirations  than  those  of  mere  formalism 
surrounded  John  from  his  birth.  His  father  and  mother  were  both 
righteous  before  God,  in  a  higher  sense  than  that  of  Eabbinical  blameless- 
ness.  Their  religion  was  deep  and  sincere,  for  they  were  among  the 
remnant  in  Israel  who  fulfilled  the  sacred  ideal  of  the  Divine  require- 
ments :  they  did  justly,  loved  mercy,  and  walked  humbly  with  their  God. 
Their  son  inherited  their  finest  characteristics.  Even  from  childhood  he 
showed  his  religious  bias.  The  only  son  of  a  priest,  he  might  have  passed 
through  life  with  flattering  respect,  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  modest  plenty, 
but  he  early  caught  the  spirit  of  the  heroes  of  his  race,  of  v/hom  he  heard 
and  read  so  much  in  the  ancient  Scriptures.  Disdaining  self-indulgent 
ease,  his  soul  kindled  under  the  influence  of  home,  of  the  times,  and  of 
religion,  into  a  fervent  enthusiasm,  which  found  its  loftiest  conception  of 
life  in  asceticism  and  joyful  self-sacrifice.  Always  more  or  less  in  favour 
Vv'ith  his  race,  this  tendency  Avas  moi"e  frequent  in  the  Jewish  priesthood 
than  in  any  other  of  antiqiiity.  Feeling  the  pulses  of  spiritual  excitement 
which  throbbed  through  the  people  around  hira :  pondering  their  suffer- 


228  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

ings,  tlieiv  sins,  and  tlicir  liopes,  John  gave  himself  up,  though  of  priestly 
birth,  to  the  higher  mission  oi:  a  prophet,  and  devoted  his  life  to  the  reform 
of  the  evils  he  so  deeply  deplored,  and  to  the  revival  of  the  religion  of  his 
fathers. 

His  course  was,  doubtless,  in  some  measure,  determined  by  an  act  of  his 
parents  before  his  birth.  They  had  made  a  vow  in  his  name  that  he  should 
be  a  Nazaritc  all  his  life,  and  had  thus  marked  him  out  as  one  formally 
devoted  to  God,  and  he  freely  adopted  the  vow.  The  Nazarite,  among  the 
Jews,  was  one,  of  either  sex,  consecrated  to  God  as  peculiarly  Ilis.  The 
conception  was  the  natural  development,  in  earnest  spirits,  of  the  self- 
mortification,  for  religious  ends,  by  fasts  and  the  like,  common  to  all 
Eastern  races.  It  had  been  practised  in  Israel  from  the  earliest  tinaes, 
and  is  already  formulated  in  the  Book  of  Numbers  as  a  recognised 
institution.  The  Wazarite  was  required  to  abstain  altogether  from  Avine 
and  intoxicating  drinks,  even  from  vinegar,  or  any  syrup  or  preparation  of 
the  grape,  and  from  grapes  themselves,  and  raisins.  All  the  days  of  his 
Nazariteship  he  was  to  eat  nothing  made  of  the  vine,  from  the  kernels  to 
the  husk.  "  No  razor  was  to  come  upon  his  head  ;  "  he  was  to  "  be  holy," 
and  to  let  the  locks  of  the  hair  of  his  head  grow.  To  guard  against  any 
legal  doiilcment  from  a  corpse,  he  was  to  go  near  no  dead  body,  even  if  it 
were  that  of  his  father,  mother,  brother,  or  sister,  because  the  consecration 
of  God  was  on  his  head :  and,  if  by  chance,  death  came  where  he  was,  the 
defilement  could  only  be  removed  by  a  seven  days'  "  uncleanness,"  to  be 
followed  by  shaving  his  head,  and  presenting  a  special  trespass-offering. 
His  vow  was,  moreover,  regarded  as  broken,  and  he  had  to  begin  its  ful- 
filment again. 

A  Nazarite^ vow  was  commonly  made  for  a  fixed  time,  but  parents  might 
vow  for  their  infant  or  even  unborn  children,  that  they  should  be  Nazaritcs 
for  life.  It  was  thus  in  the  case  of  John  ;  it  had  been  so  with  Samuel  and 
Samson,  and  tradition  tells  us  it  was  so  in  the  case  of  James  the  Just,  the 
brother  of  our  Lord.  But  though  consecrated  to  God,  and  marked  as  such 
by  s]iccial  signs,  the  Nazarite  was  not  a  monk  who  withdrew  wholly  from 
family,  social,  or  civil  life,  and  thus  shut  himself  out  from  all  useful 
activity.  The  sound  sense  of  early  antiquity  had  no  conception  of  such 
selfish  devotion.  He  only  shunned  certain  aspects  or  parts  of  common 
life,  though  some,  of  their  own  accord,  carried  self-denial  farther.  Not  a 
few  retired  into  the  desolation  of  the  hills  of  southern  Judea,  and  lived 
rudely  in  caves,  allowing  themselves  only  the  rough  fare  of  the  wilderness, 
and  the  coarsest  clothing.  Others,  like  James  the  Just,  used  no  oil  for 
anointing,  though  almost  a  necessary  of  life  in  warm  countries,  and  ate  no 
fiesh.  The  shrinking  avoidance  of  all  Levitical  defilement,  which  dictated 
such  mortifications,  was  held  due  to  their  special  consecration  to  God,  whom 
this  rigid  ceremonial  purity  was  supposed  to  honour.  The  shunning  the 
sight  of  the  dead  was  but  a  repetition  of  what  was  required  from  the 
Levitically  holiest  man  of  the  nation— the  high  priest.  The  abstaining 
from  wine  and  strong  driidc  guarded  against  an  offence  doubly  evil  in  one 
who  had  given  himself  to  God,  and  Avas  a  securiry  for  vigour  and  clearness 
of  mind  in  His  service.     The  uncut  hair  was,  perhaps,  a  visible  sign  of 


THE    KINGDOM   OF    HEAVEN    IS   AT    IIAKD.  229 

the  sacred  and  iuviolaljlc  surrender  of  tlic  wliolo  man  to  Jeliovab.  TLio 
hair  was  the  symbol  of  manly  vigour,  its  crown  and  ornament ;  and  its 
untouched  locks  thus  symbolized  the  consecration  of  the  reason  and  higher 
powers  to  God.  Thus  especially  "  holy,"  the  life-long  ISTazarite  stood  on 
an  equality  with  a  priest,  and  might  enter  the  inner  Temple,  as  Ave  see  in 
the  instance  of  James  the  Just. 

The  Nazarito  vow  was  often  taken  to  secure  some  wish — for  health, 
safety,  or  success — from  God.  But  where  it  was  life-long,  no  such  selfish 
aims  could  be  cherished.  In  lower  cases,  like  that  of  Samson,  there  might 
he  a  vague  craving  for  special  favour  from  God,  but  in  such  as  that  of 
John,  the  impelling  motive  was  intense  desire  after  the  highest  religious 
attainments.  It  was  in  him  a  visible  and  enduring  protest  against  the 
worldliness  and  spiritual  indifPerence  of  mankind  at  lai-go. 

The  time  of  Samson  and  Samuel,  towards  the  close  of  the  period  of  the 
Judges,  seems  to  have  been  that  of  the  greatest  glory  of  Is'azaritism,  which 
prepared  the  way  for  the  grander  era  of  the  prophets,  beginning  with 
Samuel,  and  for  the  great  spiritual  movement  of  the  reign  of  the  first  kings. 
Less  than  two  hundred  years  after  David,  however,  Amos  laments  the 
mockery  with  which  the  people  treated  it.  Yet  Nazarites  must  always 
liave  been  numerous  in  Israel,  for  the  duplicity  of  the  Eabbi  Simeon 
Ben  Shetach,  in  regard  to  the  sacrifices  required  to  discharge  three 
hundred  Nazarites  from  their  vow,  was  the  first  cause  of  his  disastrous 
quarrel  with  Alexander  Jannteus.  Even  two  hundred  years  before,  the 
vitality  of  the  institution  must  have  declined.  "  I  never,  through  life," 
said  Simeon  the  Just,  at  that  time,  "  liked  to  taste  the  trespass-ofEering  of 
a  Nazarite.  Once,  however,  a  man  of  the  south  came  to  me  who  had  made 
the  Nazarite  vow.  I  looked  at  him.  He  had  glorious  eyes,  a  noble  face, 
and  his  hair  fell  over  his  shoulders  in  great  waving  masses.  '  "Why  do 
you  wish  to  cut  off  this  magnificent  hair,  and  be  a  ISTazarite  no  longer  ?  '  I 
asked  him.  '  I  am  shepherd  to  my  father,'  said  he,  '  in  the  town  where  I 
live.  One  day,  in  drawing  water  from  the  spring,  I  saw  my  likeness  below, 
and  felt  a  secret  pride.  An  evil  thought  began  to  lay  hold  on  me  and 
destroy  me.  Then,  I  said.  Wicked  creature  !  you  would  fain  be  proud  of 
what  is  not  yours,  and  ought  to  be  no  more  to  you  than  dust  and  worth- 
lessness  ;  I  vow  to  my  God  that  I  shall  cut  off  my  hair  for  His  glory.'  " 
"  Fortliwith,"  continued  Simeon,  "I  embraced  him  and  said,  'Would  that 
we  had  many  Nazarites  like  thee  in  Israel.'  " 

The  instinct  which  has  led  men,  in  every  religion,  and  in  all  ages,  to 
adopt  an  ascetic  life,  doubtless  springs  from  the  belief,  that  self-denial  and 
the  subjugation  of  the  body  leave  the  soul  more  free  to  attend  to  its  special 
interests.  Buddhism  is  a  system  of  self-mortification,  and  Brahmanism 
has  its  Yogus,  or  devotees,  who  aspire,  by  the  renunciation  of  all  that  can 
make  life  pleasant,  to  attain  union  with  the  Supreme  Spirit.  Mohammed- 
anism has  its  fakirs,  who  seek  to  subdue  the  flesh  by  their  austerities,  and  to 
strengthen  the  soul  by  contemplation  and  prayer.  Tlie  Egyptian  priests 
passed  their  novitiate  in  the  deserts,  where,  like  John,  they  lived  in  caves. 
"  The  priests  in  Ileliopolis,"  says  Plutarch,  "  bring  no  v/inc  into  the  temple, 
as  it  is  not  seemly  to  drink  by  day,  whilst  the  Lord  and  King,  Helios  (the 


230  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

sun),  looks  on ;  the  others  drink  wine,  but  very  little.  They  have  many 
fasts,  during  which  they  refrain  from  wine,  and  continuously  meditate  on 
divine  things,  learn,  and  teach  them." 

Eeaction  from  the  corruption  around,  the  weariness  of  the  world,  natural 
in  a  period  of  universal  unquiet  and  uncertainty,  and  the  wish  to  follow  out 
the  letter  of  the  Law  exactly,  had  led  to  the  adoption  of  an  austere  life  by 
many  in  Palestine.  As  the  ISTazarites  strove  to  attain  ideal  ceremonial  purity 
in  rude  isolation,  others  sought  it  in  brotherhoods.  Josephus  classes  as  one 
of  the  four  great  parties  of  his  day,  the  Essenes,  an  order  numbering  about 
4,000  members,  in  Syria  and  Palestine,  more  or  less  devoted  to  an  ascetic 
life.  Like  the  Pharisees,  they  were  a  development  of  the  zeal  for  the  Law 
which  had  first  marked  the  Hasidim,  in  the  Maccabasan  wars.  The  feverish 
anxiety  to  avoid  Levitical  defilement,  which  had  already  given  rise  to 
Pharisaism,  found  its  extreme  expression  in  these  ultra  rigid  legalists,  who 
hoped,  by  isolation,  to  attain  ceremonial  righteousness,  impossible  in  the 
open  world.  The  strictness  and  asceticism  of  others,  appeared  only  a 
hypocritical  effeminacy  in  their  severer  eyes.  But,  even  with  them,  there 
were  grades  of  strictness,  for  only  the  most  rigid  withdrew  from  society. 
The  Pharisees  had  had  brotherhoods  and  unions  for  generations,  and  in 
Egypt  there  were  colonies  of  "  Therapeutse,"  who  lived  a  lonely,  contem- 
plative, idle  life  in  the  desert,  coming  together  only  for  common  worship 
and  holy  meals.  But  the  Essenes  were  as  far  from  the  saintly  idleness 
of  the  one,  as  from  the  restless  demagogue  activity  of  the  others. 
The  Pharisees,  as  years  passed  on,  had  become  constantly  less  entitled  to 
the  name  of  the  Separated,  since  they  eagerly  courted  the  multitude,  and 
compassed  sea  and  land  to  make  a  proselyte,  and  frequented  the  street 
corners  and  public  places,  to  make  a  show  of  their  piety.  Ideal  legal 
purity  could  not  be  attained  by  such  a  life,  and  hence  members  who  aspired 
to  a  higher  standard,  withdrew,  to  form  sacred  colonies  by  themselves. 

The  rise  of  these  desert  colonies  is  not  known,  but  the  wanderer  over  the 
district  between  Jerusalem  and  the  Dead  Sea,  in  the  days  of  John,  came, 
here  and  there,  on  such  settlements,  in  the  narrow,  shady  wadys,  some- 
times green  in  their  hollows,  v^'hich  sink  in  great  numbers  from  the  high 
stony  plateau,  towards  the  Dead  Sea.  The  sad  appearance  of  these  re- 
cluses, their  life  strictly  regulated  by  the  Law,  in  the  least  detail,  gave 
them  the  air  of  people  weary  of  life,  who  had  withdrawn  from  the  world 
to  prepare  for  death.  They  seem  to  have  given  themselves  up  to  a  life-long 
penance,  in  hope  of  gaining  heaven. 

The  upper  valley  of  Engedi,  where  Pliny  tells  us  most  of  the  Essenes 
had  settled,  was  exactly  suited  for  the  monkish  life  they  had  chosen.  A 
zigzag  path  leads  from  the  wilderness  of  Judea,  about  three  hours  north 
of  Masada,  by  a  steep  descent  of  fully  1,500  feet,  over  loose  rocks  and 
stones,  to  a  rich  spring,  which  makes  its  way,  under  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
shrubs^ and  bushes,  to  the  Dead  Sea.  The  name  Engedi,  "the  goat's 
spring,"  may  well  have  been  given  from  the  wild  goats  havin"-  first  found 


THE    KINGDOM   OF   HEAVEN   IS   AT   HAND.  231 

that  suited  them.  Each  colony  had  its  own  synagogue,  its  common  hall 
for  meals  and  assemblies,  and  its  provision  for  daily  baths  in  running 
water.  Besides  these  settlers,  there  were  lonely  hermits,  living  near  soli- 
tary mountain  springs,  to  be  able  to  secure  their  ceremonial  purity  still 
better  than  their  brethren,  by  more  frequent  bathing.  These  anchorets, 
the  precursors  of  the  Christian  monks,  lived  solely  on  the  wild  plants  of 
the  hill-sides,  but,  yet,  were  frequently  surrounded  by  large  numbers  of 
disciples,  who  adopted  their  painful  discipline.  Colonies  were  also  formed 
in  various  outlying  towns  of  Judea,  the  members  maintaining  the  same 
rites  as  their  brethren,  and  having  always  Levitically  piu'e  accommodation 
fi)r  them  when  they  wandered  from  the  hillj.  It  seems  as  if  the  order 
had  originally  lived  wholly  among  men,  and  had  only  gTadually  retired  to 
more  or  less  complete  seclusion,  as  dread  of  defilement  grew  more  intense. 

Their  whole  day  was  spent  in  labour  in  the  field,  or  in  the  care  of  cattle, 
or  in  that  of  bees,  and  in  other  useful  industries.  They  thus  provided 
nearly  all  they  wanted,  buying  what  little  they  required  besides,  through 
a  special  officer.  They  neither  bought  nor  sold  among  themselves,  but 
exchanged  as  each  required,  and  they  would  hardly  use  coin,  from  its 
bearing  an  image. 

The  supreme  end  of  their  retirement,  either  in  associations  or  as  solitary 
hermits,  vv'as  to  keep  the  Mosaic  law  with  all  possible  strictness.  They 
read  it  not  only  on  the  Sabbath,  but  day  and  night,  all  other  reading  being 
forbidden.  To  blaspheme  the  name  of  Moses  was  the  highest  crime,  punish- 
able with  death,  and  to  give  up  his  Books  was  a  treacheiy  which  no  Essene 
would  commit,  even  under  the  agonies  of  torture  or  death. 

The  superstitious  dread  of  defilement,  which  required  the  cups  and 
platters  of  one  company  of  Pharisees  to  be  cleansed  for  the  use  of  another, 
was  carried  even  further  by  the  Essenes.  In  imitation  of  the  priestly  meals 
in  the  Temple,  from  which  the  "  unclean "  were  scrupulously  excluded, 
they  had  common  meals,  morning  and  evening,  before  and  after  the  day's 
work ;  all  novices  till  the  third  year,  and  all  who  were  not  of  the  order, 
being  excluded  as  Levitically  unclean.  The  dining  hall  was  as  sacred  as 
a  synagogue,  the  vessels  and  dishes  purified  with  sleepless  care,  and  even 
the  clothing  worn  during  the  meals  was  counted  holy.  Priests  invoked 
a  blessing  over  the  food,  and  it  was  eaten  in  reverent  silence.  Whoever 
became  members  of  the  order,  gave  up  all  they  possessed  to  it,  and  the 
common  stock  thus  obtained,  added  to  the  fruit  and  earnings  of  the  general 
labour,  were  shared  by  all ;  the  old  and  sick  receiving  the  tenderest  care. 

The  earnestness  of  the  order  showed  itself  in  its  principles.  The  novices 
had  to  promise  "  to  honour  God,  to  be  righteous  towards  man,  to  injure  no 
one,  either  at  the  bidding  of  another  or  of  their  own  accord,  to  hate  evil, 
to  promote  good,  to  be  faithful  to  every  one,  especially  those  in  authority, 
to  love  the  truth,  to  unmask  liars,  and  to  keep  the  hand  from  theft,  and 
the  conscience  from  unrighteous  gain."  Slavery  was  forbidden,  and  no 
oaths  permitted,  save  those  by  which  members  were  admitted  to  the  order. 
War,  and.  even  the  manufacture  of  weaj^ons,  was  held  unlawful,  nor  would 
they  use  animal  food,  since  the  Law  said,  "Thou  shalt  not  kill."  Trade, 
except  so  far  as  their  simple  wants  required,  was  discountenanced. 


232  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

But  if  tlicir  morality,  drawn  from  tlie  Old  Testament,  was  pure  and  lofty, 
their  slavish  devotion  to  ceremonial  observances  marked  them  as  the  most 
superstitious  of  their  nation.  There  were  four  grades  of  Levitical  "  clean- 
ness,"  through  which  the  novice  rose  only  by  a  long  and  stern  probation, 
and  the  touching  of  a  member  of  a  higher  grade  by  one  of  a  lower,  was 
defilement  that  needed  to  be  washed  away  by  a  bath.  Priests  washed  their 
hands  and  feet  before  any  sacred  rite,  but  the  Essenes  bathed  their  Avhole 
body  in  cold  water  before  every  meal,  and  all  they  ate  must  be  prepared 
by  one  of  their  own  number.  They  bathed,  also,  each  morning,  before 
uttering  the  name  of  God.  On  Sabbaths,  they  would  not  even  move  any 
vessel  from  its  place,  and  they  prepared  all  their  food  on  Friday,  to  avoid 
kindling  a  fire  on  the  sacred  day.  They  refused  to  eat  flesh  or  wine, 
partly  from  fear  of  defilement,  partly  because  they  wished  to  reproduce  in 
their  whole  lives  the  strictness  of  the  Nazarites,  of  the  priests  during  their 
ministrations,  and  of  the  old  Eechabites.  Thus,  their  only  food  was  that 
prescribed  to  others  for  fasts.  They  kept  aloof  from  the  Temple,  though 
they  sent  the  usual  gifts — for  the  presentation  of  an  offering  involved  par- 
taking  in  a  sacrificial  meal,  which  would  have  defiled  them.  In  some  of 
their  colonies  women  were  not  suffered,  from  tlie  same  dread  of  unclean- 
ness,  and  though  they  did  not  wholly  forbid  marriage,  the  wife  was  required 
to  undergo  even  more  ceremonial  cleansings  than  the  brethren.  They 
kept  a  watchful  guard  that  no  one  was  defiled  by  the  spittle  of  another, 
and  that  it  did  not  fall  on  the  right  side.  The  anointing  oil,  which  was  to 
other  Jews  a  festal  luxury,  in  which  the  Psalmist  had  gloried  as  dropping 
from  Aaron's  beard,  was,  to  the  Essene,  an  uncleanness,  which  needed  to 
be  washed  away ;  a  brother,  expelled  from  the  order,  would  rather  starve 
to  death  than  touch  food  pre2:)ared  by  a  common  Jew,  nor  would  any 
Eoman  torture  force  him  to  lose  his  caste.  The  whole  life  of  an  Essene 
was  a  long  terror  of  defilement.  The  work  of  the  colony  began  before  sun- 
rise, with  psalms  and  hymns,  followed  by  prayer  and  washing.  They  then 
went  to  their  day's  work.  At  eleven— the  fifth  hour — the  scattered 
labourers  gathered  again  for  a  common  bath  in  cold  water.  The  woollen 
dress  in  which  they  worked  was  now  laid  aside,  and  the  consecrated  dress 
of  the  order  put  on,  in  preparation  for  their  eating  together,  and  their 
meal,  which  consisted  only  of  bread  and  a  single  kind  of  vegetable,  was 
eaten  with  prayer,  in  solemn  stillness.  The  holy  dress  was  then  laid  aside, 
and  work  resumed.  In  the  evening,  the  second  meal  Avas  taken,  with  the 
same  solemnities  and  rites,  and  worship  closed  the  day,  that  only  pure 
thoughts  might  fill  their  souls  as  they  reth-ed  to  rest.  One  day  followed 
another,  with  the  monotony  of  pendulum  beats,  in  precisely  the  same 
round  of  unbend  in  q-  forms. 

The  Essenes,  as  the  mystics  of  Judaism,  naturally  gave  themselves  to 
metaphysical  speculations,  and,  like  the  Eabbis,  they  revelled  in  fantastic 
allegorizing  of  Scripture.  From  the  philosophic  Judaism  of  Alexandria, 
thoy  borrowed  notions  on  free  will  and  fate,  and  from  Persia  and  Greece, 
with  both  of  which  their  race  had  been,  for  long  periods,  in  contact,  they 
adopted  various  dogmas.  The  soul,  they  imagined,  was  a  sul>tle  ether,  of 
heavenly  origin,  drawn  down  to  earth  by  a  fell  necessity,  and  imprisoned 


THE    KINGDOM    OF   HEAVEN    IS    AT   HAND.  233 

in  the  body  till  set  free  at  death.  It  was  then  borne  away,  if  pure,  beyond 
the  ocean,  to  a  region  where  storms  were  unknown,  and  where  the  heat 
vi-as  tempei-ed  by  a  gentle  west  wind,  perpetually  blowing  from  the  ocean. 
If  it  had  neglected  the  Law,  however,  it  was  carried  off  to  a  dark,  wintry 
abyss,  to  dwell  there  for  over.  Every  morning,  the  Essenes  paid  homage 
to  the  sun,  and  they  would  not,  at  any  time,  let  its  beams  fall  on  anything 
Levitically  unclean. 

The  community  of  goods  among  them  was  a  necessity  of  their  mode  of 
life,  since  the  order  alone  could  supply  the  wants  of  its  members.  It  had 
the  result  of  enforcing  simplicity.  An  under  garment,  without  sleeves, 
was  their  only  clothing  in  summer,  and  a  rough  mantle  their  prophet-like 
winter  garb.  The  inter-relation  of  the  different  colonies  made  money 
useless  in  travelling,  for  there  was  no  need  of  it  when,  at  each  resting- 
place,  their  frugal  wants  were  freely  supplied  by  any  brother.  They  had 
no  servants,  and,  as  they  recognised  no  distinction  but  that  of  "  clean  and 
unclean,"  they  could  have  no  slaves. 

The  grand  aim  of  this  amazing  system  of  self-denial  and  ascetic  endur- 
ance is  told  by  Josephus,  in  a  brief  sentence.  "  Consecrated,  from  child- 
hood, by  many  puriiications,  and  familiar,  beyond  thought,  with  the  Holy 
Books,  and  the  utterances  of  the  prophets,  they  claim  to  see  into  the 
future,  and,  in  truth,  there  is  scarcely  an  instance  in  which  their  prophecies 
have  been  found  false."  The  belief  that  they  could  attain  direct  communion 
with  God,  by  intense  legal  purification  and  mystic  contemplation,  and  even 
pass,  in  the  end,  to  such  transcendental  vision  as  would  reveal  to  them 
the  secrets  of  the  future,  was  the  supreme  motive  to  endure  a  life  of  so 
much  privation  and  self-denial.  A  similar  course  had  been  followed,  before 
their  day,  as  a  means  of  preparation  for  Divine  visions,  and  communion 
with  higher  powers.  "  In  those  days,"  says  Daniel,  "  I  was  mourning 
three  full  weeks.  I  ate  no  pleasant  bread,  neither  came  flesh  nor  wine  in 
my  mouth,  neither  did  I  aiioint  myself  at  all,  till  three  whole  weeks  were 
fulfilled.  And  in  the  four-and-twentieth  day  of  the  first  month,  as  I  was 
by  the  side  of  the  great  river,  which  is  Hiddekel,  then  I  lifted  up  mine 
eyes,  and  looked,  and  behold  a  certain  man  clothed  in  linen,  whose  loins 
were  girded  with  fine  gold  of  Uphaz."  In  the  same  way,  Esdras  prepared 
himself,  beforehand,  for  his  visions—"  Go  to  the  flowery  open,  where  there 
is  no  house,"  said  the  angel  to  him,  "  and  eat  only  the  herbs  of  the  field ; 
taste  no  flesh,  drink  no  wine,  but  eat  herbs  only,  and  pray  unto  the  Highest 
continually ;  then  will  I  come  and  talk  with  thee." 

It  was  universally  believed  that  the  future  was  open  before  the  aged 
members  of  the  order,  who  had  laboured  after  "  purity "  through  life. 
Their  souls  were  supposed  to  be  well-nigh  freed  from  the  bonds  of  the 
flesh,  and  able  to  wander  forth  to  the  world  beyond.  Thus  an  Essene  was 
said  to  have  prophesied  to  the  brother  of  the  first  Aristobulus  that  prince's 
death ;  and  another  to  have  predicted  to  the  boy  Herod  that  he  would  be 
king,  and  that  he  would  have  a  long  reign,  after  he  had  gained  the  crown. 
This  gift  of  prophecy  was  believed  by  Herod  and  his  sons,  no  less  than 
among  the  people,  and  hence  an  Essene  was  often  sent  for  when  a  bad 
dream  disturbed  royalty,  or  anxiety  for  the  future  troubled  it.    "With  such 


234  THE   LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

mystic  claims,  tlie  expectations  of  Israel  must  Lave  boin  tlieir  cliicf 
thouglit.  Their  old  men  dreamed  dreams,  their  young  men  saw  visions, 
and  tlicir  sons  and  daughters  prophesied,  as  if  in  f  ullilment  of  the  prophet's 
signs  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah.  Yet  we  have  no  proof  that  they 
anticipated  it  as  near,  or  applied  themselves  in  any  practical  way  to  a 
preparation  of  Israel  for  it.  It  was  only  a  fond  and  airy  vision  of  tlie  ideal 
future.  They  were  rigid  Predestinarians,  believing  that  all  things,  in  the 
course  of  nature  and'in  the  life  of  man,  are  fixed  by  fate.  Where  there 
was  no  moral  freedom,  it  was  idle  either  to  preach  or  teach,  and  so  they 
did  neither. 

As  was  natural  with  minds  occupied  mainly  with  subjects  above  human 
grasp,  the  speculations  of  the  order  became  wild,  and  often  monstrous. 
The  novice  was  required  by  a  fearful  oath  to  conceal  the  secret  names  of 
the  angels,  which  were  known  to  the  brotherhood,  and  gave  him  who 
leax-ned  them,  power,  by  pronouncing  them,  to  draw  down  these  awful 
beings  from  heaven.  The  Apocryphal  literature  of  the  day  boasted  of 
long  lists  of  the  names  of  angels,  v/ith  their  poAvers  and  offices ;  and  the 
Essenes,  like  the  Eabbis,  believed  that  by  secret  spells,  in  which  these 
names  played  a  foremost  part,  they  could  command  their  services  for  good 
or  evil,  as  the  services  of  the  genii  are  at  the  command  of  the  magicians 
in  the  Arabian  Nights.  They  believed  also,  in  common  with  the  age,  in 
the  secret  magic  powers  of  plants  and  stones,  and  they  held  much,  besides, 
the  disclosure  of  which  was  the  greatest  of  crimes.  Secrecy  was,  indeed, 
a  characteristic  of  the  order.  The  neophyte  bound  himself  by  a  terrible 
oath,  "neither  to  conceal  anything  from  the  brotherhood,  nor  to  discover 
any  of  their  doctrines  to  others,  even  if  he  should  have  to  die  for  liis 
refusal.  He  had,  moreover,  to  swear  that  he  would  commiTnicate  their 
doctrines  to  no  one,  exce]3t  as  he  himself  had  received  them,  and  that  he 
would  keep  inviolably  secret  the  books  of  the  order,  and  the  names  of  the 
angels." 

The  influence  of  Essenism  on  the  age,  howevei',  was  small,  for  its 
members  were  few  in  proportion  to  the  teeming  population,  and  made  no 
attempt  at  propagandism,  but  lived  entirely  apart  from  men.  The  natural 
product  of  the  times,  with  its  Messianic  hopes,  its  striving  after  legal 
righteousness,  its  glorification  of  the  past,  and  its  contact  with  heathea 
superstition,  it  served  the  purpose,  in  some  measure,  of  drawing  away  the 
thoughts  from  the  dream  of  national  political  glory,  and  of  preparing  the 
soil  for  the  more  spiritual  conception  of  the  Messiah,  which  John  and 
Jesus  were  to  introduce.  The  Essenes  came  in  contact  with  the  people 
as  healers,  prophets,  dream-interpreters,  and  exorcists,  not  as  teachers 
or  preachers.  Their  religious  exercises  and  pure  ideas  were  cherished 
in  the  community  without  an  attempt  to  spread  them  through  the  nation; 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  Ba,ptist,  whose  life  was  a  fervent  ministry 
to  the  masses  of  his  countrymen,  and,  still  more,  to  Jesus,  for  He  lived 
in  constant  contact  with  men,  even  those  shunned  alike  by  Essene  and 
Eabbi,  as  unclean :  showed  the  most  perfect  superiority  to  all  ritual 
narrowness ;  set  light  by  ceremonial  purity,  or  superstitious  Sabbath 
laws  ;  discarded  fasting  ;  took  part  in  the  social  enjoyment  of  feasts,  and 


THE    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  235 

meals,  and  marriages,  and.  left  a  new  code  of  rules  and  maxims  for  His 
disciples.  Essenism  was,  at  l^cst,  only  the  vivid  cnlmination  of  the  past, 
doomed  to  jmss  away. 

From  their  lofty  morality,  the  Essenes  have  been  assigned  a  rank 
among  the  spiritual  forces  of  their  age,  to  wliich  in  reality  they  had  no 
claim.  If  their  moral  purity  and  spiritual  depth  breathed  of  the  prophets 
rather  than  the  theocracy,  and  made  their  order,  in  so  far,  a  herald  of 
Christianity,  their  exaggerated  ceremonialism,  their  harsh  austerity,  and 
their  fantastic  and  half-heathen  superstitions,  neutralized,  to  a  large  ex- 
tent, this  healthy  influence.  Still,  in  some  directions,  they  surpassed  in 
true  morality  anything  in  the  last  centuries  of  Jewish  life.  It  gives  even 
their  harsh  asceticism  a  higher  dignity,  that  it  was  not,  like  that  of  the 
Pharisees,  a  mercenary  service  for  external  reward,  but  a  self-denying 
attempt  to  keep  out  evil  from  the  soul,  and  thus  prepare  it  for  that  high 
communion  with  God,  in  whose  sacred  calm  the  still  small  voice  of  Divine 
revelations  gi'ows  audible.  For  the  first  time  since  the  prophets,  the 
spiritual  condition  of  the  soul  was  declared  to  be  the  end  of  religion. 
AVhile  the  Eabbis  distracted  the  age  with  their  fierce  party  strifes  about 
the  merely  external,  another  kind  of  life  ripened  in  the  seclusion  of  the 
colonies  of  Essenes,  which  bore  better  fruit,  because  it  concerned  itself 
with  the  need  of  a  ISTew  Birth,  and  the  circumcision  of  the  heart ;  not  witli 
the  theocracy,  the  Temple,  or  politics.  The  likeness  to  Christianity> 
where  it  exists  in  Essenism,  was  not  in  its  institutions,  but  in  the  quiet 
and  meditative  frame  that  breathed  through  the  community,  in  its  religious 
seriousness  and  priestly  consecration  of  life — the  "  daily  keeping  of  Sab- 
bath," which  was  also  the  ideal  of  the  first  Christian  communions. 
These  characteristics  of  the  order  were,  in  some  degree,  common  also  to 
tliose  who,  after  them,  were  "  the  quiet  and  peaceful  in  the  land,"  although 
its  doctrines  and  ideas  offered,  otherwise,  rather  a  contrast  to  Christianity 
than  a  resemblance. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE   VOICE    IX   THE   WELDERNESS. 

NO  one  is  unaffected  by  the  spirit  of  his  age.  It  is  not  surprising, 
therefore,  that  at  a  time  when  religious  earnestness  found  expression 
in  the  ascetic  self-denial  and  retirement  from  the  world,  of  Nazaritest 
Essenes,  and  even  of  others  not  connected  v,^ith  either,  the  young  enthusiast 
of  Hebron  withdrew  from  his  family  and  mankind,  to  the  caves  of  the 
wilderness  stretching  away  from  his  native  town.  In  an  age  so  troubled 
in  politics  and  religion,  the  peaceful  simplicity  of  such  a  hermit  life  was 
irresistible,  and  in  its  calm  retirement  men  could  work  out  their  salvation 
by  prayer,  fasts,  washings,  and  rigid  zeal  for  the  Law,  with  no  one  to 
make  them  afraid.  Tlie  weary  heart  found  repose  in  a  solitude,  where 
the  great  woi'ld,  with  its  discord,  t--rmoil,  and  confusion,  its  cruelty, 
selfishness,  and  treachery,  was  shui   vat.     The  psalm-singing,  the  cere- 


236  THE    LIFE    OF   CHIIIST. 

monies,  and  the  quiet  industry  of  the  colonies  of  Esscncs,  sent  strange 
emotions  of  gentleness  and  awe  into  men's  hearts,  in  an  age  when,  every- 
-\vhere  else,  wickedness  reigned  triumphant.  In  such  dark  days  these 
spots  shone  with  a  holy  light.  Having  fled,  in  horror,  from  prevalent 
violence  and  sin,— by  the  natural  law  of  reaction,  the  fugitives  sought  to 
extinguish  in  themselves  the  simplest  instincts  of  human  nature.  It  was 
thus,  afterwards,  in  the  awful  times  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Eoman 
empire.  The  deserts  of  Egypt  and  Syria  were  filled  with  a  strange 
poj)ulation,  fleeing  from  the  wild  tumult  and  commotion  under  which  the 
earth  reeled.  It  was  thus,  also,  in  the  fierce  and  lawless  Middle  Ages, 
when  the  cloister  was  like  a  speck  of  blue  in  a  heaven  of  storm.  Asceti- 
cism, in  these  different  periods,  as  in  that  of  the  Gospel  history,  was  the 
only  protest  which  told  with  sufficient  force  against  the  rampant  evil 
around.  Eleven  centuries  after  Christ,  a  similar  state  of  society  made  the 
ascetic  life  the  ideal  of  the  noblest  souls,  even  where  they  did  not  with- 
draw from  the  world.  St.  Bernard's  saintly  mother,  the  model  of 
Christian  charity  and  lowliness,  could  not  rest  satisfied  with  these  graces. 
By  scantiness  of  food,  by  simplicity  of  dress,  by  the  avoidance  of  worldly 
pleasures,  by  fasting,  prayer,  and  vigils,  she  strove  after  that  vision  of 
self-sacrifice  and  humility,  which  alone  was  attractive  in  that  ago. 
Asceticism  is  not  needed  now.  Its  place  has  been  more  nobly  filled  by  the 
claims  of  Christian  work  for  others,  but  in  John  the  Baptist's  day,  and  for 
long  centuries  after,  it  was  a  natural  tendency. 

The  wilderness  to  which  John  withdrew  stretches,  far  and  near,  over 
the  whole  eastern  part  of  Judca,  beginning  almost  at  Jerusalem,  and 
reaching  away,  under  different  names,  to  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  southern 
desert,  as  its  distant  limits.  It  is  a  dreary  waste  of  rocky  valleys ;  in 
some  pai'ts  stern  and  terrible— the  rocks  cleft  and  shattered  by  earth- 
quakes and  convulsions,  into  rifts  and  gorges  sometimes  a  thousand  feet 
in  depth,  though  only  thirty  or  forty  in  width  ;  in  others,  stretching  out 
in  bare  chalk  hills  full  of  caves,  or  in  white,  flint-bound  ridges,  and  winding, 
muddy  wadys,  with  an  occasional  reservoir,  hewn  in  the  hard  limestone,  to 
supply  water  in  a  country  destitute  of  springs.  One  may  travel  all  day, 
and  see  no  other  life  than  the  desert  partridge,  and  a  chance  fox  or  vulture. 
Only  the  dry  and  fleshy  plants  which  require  no  water,  grow  on  the  hills, 
and  in  the  vallej^s  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation  is  the  Avhite  broom 
bushes,  which  blossom  in  March  and  April.  The  whole  district  is,  in  fact, 
the  slope  of  the  midland  chalk  and  limestone  hills,  from  their  highest 
point  of  nearly  3,000  feet,  near  Hebron,  to  1,000  or  1,500  feet  at  the  valley 
of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  Hebrews  fitly  call  it  Jeshimon — "  the  appalling 
desolation,"  or  "  horror " — for  it  is  not  possible  to  conceive  a  more 
desolate  region.  Parts  of  it  are  deserted  even  by  the  Arabs.  On  the 
northern  side,  valleys  of  great  depth,  sinking  towards  the  Dead  Sea,  al- 
most preclude  travelling  except  in  their  troughs,  and  farther  south,  the 
country  is  absolutely  im]3assable.  Huge  perpendicular  gorges,  of  from  a 
thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet  in  depth,  and  in  some  places  nearly  a  mile 
in  width,  have  been  holloAvcd  out  by  the  great  torrents,  rushing  in  winter 
over  the  precipices',  towards  the  Dead  Sea.     The  one  natural  site  for  a 


THE    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDEENESS.  237 

town,  in  the  Avhole  district,  is  tlie  opening  at  the  foot  of  tlie  pass  of 
Engcdi,  "  the  spring  of  the  wild  goats,"  above  the  shores  of  the  sea,  and 
this  is  reached  only  by  a  narrow,  serpent-like  path,  down  cliffs  twelve 
hnndred  feet  higli, — well  named  by  the  Hebrews,  "the  rocks  of  the  wild 
goats," — which  only  unladen  beasts,  by  an  hour's  slow  care,  can  descend 
in  safety.  Excepting  the  spring  at  this  spot,  water  is  to  be  found  only  in 
hollows  of  the  rocks,  or  in  the  very  rare  water-cisterns,  hewn  in  past  ages 
in  the  limestone,  which  catch  some  of  the  few  passing  showers  which  visit 
this  region. 

This  Spring  of  Engedi — or  Ain  Jidy,  gushes  from  beneath  a  rock  on  a 
little  plateau,  400  feet  above  the  Dead  Sea,  and  800  feet  below  the  top  of 
the  cliifs.  The  water  is  sweet  and  clear,  but  unpleasantly  warm  to  the 
taste.  The  stream  flows  in  a  long  cascade  over  the  steep  face  of  the  cliff, 
and  is  lost  in  channels  for  irrigation,  beneath, — low  bushes,  bending 
rushes,  and  the  gigantic  leaves  of  the  osher,  the  yellow  berries  of  the  apple 
of  Sodom,  and  the  flat  cedar-like  tops  of  the  thorny  Darda'ra,  rising  in  a 
thicket  along  its  course.  Bulbuls  and  hopping  thrushes  court  this  shelter, 
and  black  grakles,  with  golden  wings,  and  melodious  note,  flit  to  and  fro 
on  the  cliffs  above.  On  cvei-y  side,  below  the  spring,  ruined  garden  walls 
and  terraces,  and  a  large  terraced  mound,  show  the  site  of  the  ancient 
town,  which  had,  perhaps,  a  thousand  iiihabitants.  The  scenery  along  the 
lake  is  magnificent  in  its  wild  and  desolate  grafideur.  Beneath,  is  the 
blue  water  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  above,  rise  the  tall  ci'ags  and  castellated 
precipices  of  the  great  rock-wall,  which  runs,  ever  higher  and  steeper, 
nearly  to  the  fortress  of  Masada,  the  square  isolated  mass  of  which,  more 
than  1,500  feet  above  the  Dead  Sea,  forms  a  great  plateau,  cut  off  on  every 
side  by  wide  rifts,  and  vertical  walls  of  rock,  and  seen  from  Engedi.  On 
the  east,  beyond  the  deep  gorges  of  the  Arnon,  and  lesser  streams  of  the 
Blue  Mountains,  the  white  towers  of  Kerak  look  down  from  a  great  cliff 
which  seems  to  defy  approach. 

The  town  of  Engedi  was  the  one  minute  living  spot  in  the  whole  district, 
for  the  only  human  habitations  in  the  Avild  region  above  were  the  hill 
caves,  in  which  hermits  sought  a  miserable  shelter.  Somewhere  in  the 
chasm  leading  down  to  the  spring,  the  Essenes  had  their  little  colony  in 
John's  day,  but  their  strict  isolation  left  the  lonely  anchorite  in  a  deeper 
solitude.  In  the  neighbouring  wilderness,  where  the  venomous  desert 
viper  glided  among  the  stones,  and  the  scorpion,  the  fox,  the  vulture,  or 
the  raven,  were  almost  the  only  signs  of  life  ;  where  clronght  reigned,  and 
the  waterless  hills  and  stony  valleys  were  symbols  of  utter  desolation, — 
in  some  cave,  perhaps,  in  the  depth  of  a  deep  and  narrow  ravine,  that  at 
least  gave  shelter  from  the  pitiless  heat  and  glare  of  an  Eastern  sun,— 
John  took  up  his  abode,  to  be  alone  with  God  and  his  own  soul,  and  thus, 
the  better  able  to  fulfil  the  lifelong  vow  which  separated  hiin  from  men. 
Bred  up  a  strict  Jew,  and  trained,  like  St.  Paul,  in  the  perfect  knowledge 
and  observance  of  the  Law,  he  was  doubtless,  also,  a  zealot  towards  God 
in  all  things  respecting  it.  At  what  age  he  retired  from  Hebron  to  this 
hermit  life  we  have  no  means  of  knowing,  but  he  had,  apparently,  lived 
for  many  years  apart  from  men  before  his  public  appearance.    Tlie  Gospels 


238  THE   LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

furnish  us  with  vivid  glimpses  of  his  appearance  and  mode  of  life.  His 
hair  hung  long  about  him,  like  that  of  Samson,  for  it  had  never  been  cut 
since  his  birth.  His  only  food  was  the  locusts  which  leaped  or  flew  on  the 
bare  hills,  and  the  honey  of  wild  bees  which  he  found  here  and  there  in 
the  clefts  of  the  rocks,  and  his  only  drink  a  draught  of  water  from  some 
rocky  hollow.  Locusts  are  still  the  food  of  the  poor  in  many  parts  of  the 
East.  "  All  the  Bedouins  of  Arabia,  and  the  inhabitants  of  towns  in  Nedj 
and  Hedjaz,  are  accustomed  to  cat  them,"  says  Burckhardt.  "  I  have  seen 
at  Medina  and  Tayf,  locust  shops,  where  they  arc  sold  by  measure.  In 
Egypt  and  J^ubia  they  are  eaten  only  by  the  poorest  beggars.  The  Arabs, 
in  preparing  them  for  eating,  throw  them  alive  into  boiling  water,  with 
which  a  good  deal  of  salt  has  been  mixed,  taking  them  out  after  a  few 
minutes,  and  drying  them  in  the  sun.  The  head,  feet,  and  wings,  are  then 
torn  off,  the  bodies  cleansed  from  the  salt,  and  perfectly  dried.  They  are 
sometimes  eaten  boiled  in  buttei',  or  spread  on  nnleavened  bread  mixed 
with  butter."  In  Palestine,  they  are  eaten  only  by  the  Arabs  on  the  ex- 
treme frontiers  ;  elsewhere  they  are  looked  on  with  disgust  and  loathing, 
and  only  the  very  poorest  use  them.  Tristram,  hov/evcr,  spepJvs  of  them 
as  "very  palatable."  "I  fonnd  them  vciy  good,"  says  he,  "when  eaten 
after  the  Arab  fashion,  stewed  with  butter.  They  tasted  somevvhat  like 
shrimps,  but  with  less  flavour."  In  the  wilderness  of  Judea,  various  kinds 
abound  at  all  seasons,  and  spring  up,  with  a  drumming  sound,  at  every 
step,  suddenly  spreading  their  bright  hind  wings,  of  scarlet,  crimson,  blue, 
yellow,  Avhite,  green,  or  brown,  according  to  the  species.  They  wore 
"clean,"  under  tlie  Mosaic  Law,  and  hence  could  be  eaten  by  John  without 
offence.  The  wild  bees  in  Palestine  are  far  more  numerous  than  those 
kept  in  hives,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  honey  sold  in  the  southern  dis- 
tricts is  obtained  from  wild  swarms.  Few  countries,  indeed,  are  better 
adapted  for  bees.  The  dry  climate,  and  the  stunted  but  varied  flora,  con- 
sisting largely  of  aromatic  thymes,  mints,  and  other  similar  plants,  with 
crocuses  in  the  spring,  are  very  favonrable  to  them,  while  the  dry  recesses 
of  the  limestone  rocks  everywhere  afford  them  shelter  and  protection  for 
their  combs.  In  the  wilderness  of  Judea  especially,  bees  abound  more 
than  in  any  other  district,  and  honey  is,  to  this  day,  part  of  the  homely 
diet  of  the  local  Bedouin,  who  squeeze  it  from  the  combs  and  store  it  in 
skins. 

John's  dress  was  in  keeping  with  the  austerity  of  his  life.  A  burnouse 
of  rough,  rudely  woven  cloth  of  coarse  camels'  hair,  such  as  the  Bedouin 
still  wear,  bound  round  his  body  by  the  common  leathern  girdle  still  in 
use  among  the  very  poor,  was  apparently  his  only  clothing.  His  head- 
dress was  the  triangular  head-cloth,  kept  in  its  place  by  a  cord,  as  is  still 
the  custom  among  the  Arabs,  and  his  feet  were  shod  with  coarse  sandals. 
In  Hebron  he  had  had  aronnd  him  all  that  could  m.ake  life  pleasant— a 
saintly  home,  loving  parents,  social  consideration,  modest  comforts,  and 
an  easy  outlook  for  the  future.  But  the  burden  of  life  had  weighed  heavy 
on  him,  and  his  heart  was  sad,  and  drove  him  forth  from  men.  The 
enemies  of  his  people  Avere  strong,  and  the  hand  of  them  that  hated  them 
lay  sore  upon  them.     The  cry  of  the  faithful  in  the  land  rose  to  God,  that 


THE    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDEENESS.  239 

lie  would  remember  His  holy  covenant  and  deliver  tlicm.  They  sighed  to 
be  free  from  the  presence  of  the  heathen,  that,  once  more  under  God  as 
their  only  king,  with  their  country  to  themselves,  they  might  serve  Him 
without  fear,  in  the  homage  of  the  Temple,  and  the  rites  of  the  Law. 
Israel  had  long  sat  in  darkness,  with  no  break  of  light  from  heaven.  The 
promises  seemed  to  tai'ry.  The  godly  sighed  to  have  their  feet  guided 
into  the  way  of  peace,  but  no  Messiah  had  appeared  to  lead  them. 

33ut  if  the  sorrows  of  the  nation  pressed  on  the  heart  of  John,  so  also 
did  their  sins.  If  the  "  shadov/  of  death  "  thus  lay  on  them,  it  was  through 
their  own  sins  and  degeneracy,  for  God  had  only  forsaken  them  because 
they  had.  first  forsaken  Him.  The  courts  of  His  Temple  had  been  turned 
into  a  den  of  thieves  ;  the  spiritual  guides  of  the  multitude  were  deceitful 
and  deadly  as  the  vijoer  of  the  desert ;  blind  leaders  of  a  blind  people. 
They  who  should  have  been  the  holiest  of  the  holy — God's  priests — were  a 
scorn  and  derision  for  their  unworthiness.  Before  John  reached  his 
majority,  he  had  seen  the  sacred  mitre  changed  nine  times,  at  the  will  of 
Archelaus,  or  of  a  heathen  governor  from  Eomc,  and  the  puppet  high 
priests  had  desecrated  its  awful  dignity  by  personal  vice,  or  time-serving 
policy,  or  indifference  to  its  highest  obligations,  or  shameful  luxury  and 
haughty  pride.  Two  of  the  house  of  Boethos  of  Alexandria,  raised  by 
Herod  to  dignify  his  marriage  into  the  family,  had  worn  the  high  priest's 
robes,  but  the  people  nauttered  curses  on  them,  for  having  surrounded 
themselves  with  courtly  show  and  military  violence.  Ismael  the  son  of 
rhal)i,  had  worn  tliem,  but  the  clubs  of  his  retainers  had  become  a  bye- 
word  in  Jerusalem,  as  had  his  own  shameful  personal  luxury.  Three 
members  of  the  family  of  Hannas  had  vforn  them — Hannas  himself, 
Elcazar  his  son,  and,  now,  Caiaphas  his  son-in-law, — and  Hannas  was  still 
the  foremost  man  in  Jerusalem,  but  they  hated  the  people,  and  the  people 
hated  them,  and  maintained  that  they  hissed  at  them  like  vipers,  in  their 
proud  malignity,  or  glided  to  their  evil  ends,  like  the  snake.  Their 
families  were  branded  as  sons  of  Eli.  Iniquity  filled  the  high  places  of 
the  Hill  of  God.  Kor  were  the  people  themselves  innocent;  for  He  who 
was  meek  and  lowly  in  spirit  denounced  them,_a  year  or  two  later,  as  an 
evil  and  adulterous  genei"ation,  more  hardened  and  hopeless  than  IsTineveh, 
or  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  whicli  God  had  cursed.  Earnest  souls,  in  such 
circumstances,  with  the  earth  dark  around  them,  and  no  light  in  the 
heavens ;  feeling  that  hope  could  only  come  with  national  contrition  and 
awakened  spiritual  life,  might  well,  in  loving,  sad  despair,  withdraw  them- 
selves from  mankind. 

But  with  John  there  was  also  a  conviction  that  the  Messiah,  long  ex- 
[)ectcd,  must  be  near  at  hand,  and  that  the  fit  preparation  for  His  advent 
was  a  self-denial  and  humiliation,  which  surrendered  the  whole  present, 
and  gave  itself  up  to  prayer  and  watching,  in  desert  solitudes.  It  was  the 
idea  of  His  age,  and  John  could  be  satisfied  v/ith  nothing  less.  A  great 
sorrow  and  a  great  ideal  alike  drove  him  to  "keep  his  body  under,"  as  if 
the  least  pleasure  were  sin,  and  the  flesh  the  enemy  of  the  soul. 

Joscplius  gives  ns  a  sketch  of  one  of  the  recluses  of  the  desert,  with 
whom  ho  himself  lived  for  three  years.     "  His  name  was  Banus,  his  home 


24:0  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST, 

the  desert,  his  only  clothing  the  leaves  or  bark  of  trees,  his  only  food  wlia*, 
grew  of  its  own  accord,  his  only  drink  the  brook,  and  his  daily  and  niglitly 
practice  to  bathe  in  cold  water."  Not  a  few  snch,  no  donbt,  bnried  them- 
selves in  the  dens  and  caves  of  the  lonely  hills  ronnd  John,  weary  of  the 
world,  as  Pliny  says,  and  seeking,  by  a  life  of  penitence,  to  cleanse  away 
the  defilements  of  the  flesh. 

■^Vith  many,  the  great  motive  might  be  to  save  themselves  in  the  ship- 
wreck of  all  besides,  bnt  no  snch  nnworthy  impulse  actuated  John.  He 
sought  the  wilderness,  at  once  to  secure  perfect  Levitical  purity — for  he 
was  a  strict  Jew— to  ponder  over  the  mysteries  of  the  long-delayed  king- 
dom of  God,  and  to  aid  in  bringing  about  its  accomplishment.  His  life, 
earnestly  striving  after  meetness  for  the  expected  Messianic  kingdom,  was 
no  vacant  and  idle  solitude.  He  had  nothing  of  the  Eastei'n  mystic,  whose 
cell  witnesses  only  dreamy  and  selfish  meditation.  The  struggles  of  soul, 
in  all  natures  like  his,  are  unspeakably  real,  and  we  cannot  doubt  that  his 
days  and  nights  saw  him  pleading,  by  long  earnest  prayer,  with  many 
tears  and  soi-e  fasting,  that  God,  in  His  mercy,  would  at  last  send  the 
Messiah  to  His  people.  We  know  how  even  Christ,  "  in  the  days  of  His 
flesh,  offered  up  prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  tears ;  " 
how  He  sighed  deeply  in  His  spirit,  and  spent  whole  nights  in  the  hills, 
or  in  the  desert,  in  lonely  prayer;  and  His  herald  must  have  felt,  in  liis 
measure,  the  same  all-absorbing  zeal.  The  prophets  and  Kabbis,  alike, 
taught  that  the  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven  "  could  only  come  when  Israel  had 
prepared  itself  by  humiliation  and  repentance,  and  John  sought  to  rouse 
men  at  large  to  feel  this,  by  the  protest  against  their  sins  embodied  in  his 
example.  To  rebuke  love  of  riches  would  have  been  idle,  had  he  lived  in 
comfort ;  to  condemn  the  hollowness  and  unreality  of  life,  he  must  be  clear 
of  all  suspicion  of  them  himself.  Men  involuntarily  do  homage  to  self- 
denying  sincerity,  and  there  could  be  no  question  as  to  that  of  John.  It 
was  felt  tliat  he  was  real.  Religion  had  become  a  thinoj  of  forms.  Men 
had  settled  into  a  round  of  externals,  as  if  all  religion  centred  in  these. 
Decencies  and  proprieties  formed  the  substance  of  human  life.  But  John 
showed  that  there  was,  at,  least,  one  man  with  whom  religion  was  an  ever- 
lasting reality. 

A  soul  lost,  like  that  of  John,  in  the  greatness  of  eternal  truths,  may 
well  have  risen  to  an  indifference  to  the  comforts,  or  even  ordinary  wants 
of  the  body,  otherwise  almost  impossible.  We  have  no  record  of  his  daily 
life,  but  the  story  of  one  who,  in  saintliness  of  spirit,  trod  in  his  steps,  is 
still  preserved.  Saint  Antony,  in  the  deserts  of  Egypt,  was  wont  to  pass 
whole  nights  in  prayer,  and  that  not  infref|uently,  to  the  astonishment  of 
men.  He  ate  once  a  day,  after  the  setting  of  the  sun;  his  food  was  bread 
with  salt,  his  drink  nothing  but  water.  Flesh  and  wine  he  never  tasted. 
When  he  slept,  he  was  content  with  a  rush  mat,  but  mostly  he  lay  on  the 
bare  ground.  He  would  not  anoint  himself  with  oil,  saying  that  it  was 
more  fit  for  young  men  to  be  earnest  in  subduing  the  body,  than  to  seek 
things  which  softened  it.  Forgetting  the  past,  he,  daily,  as  if  beginning 
afresh,  took  more  pains  to  improve,  repeating  to  himself,  continually,  the 
Apostle's  words— "Forgetting  what  is  behind;  stretching  forth  to  what 


THE    VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  241 

is  before ;  "  and  mindful,  too,  of  Elijah's  saying,  "  The  Lord  liveth,  beforo 
wliom  I  stand  " — lie  thought  in  himself,  that  the  ascetic  ought  ever  to  be 
learning  his  own  life  from  that  of  the  great  Elias,  as  from-  a  mirror.  The 
picture  may  not  suit  in  some  particulars,  but  as  a  glimpse  of  the  mortified 
life  of  the  desert,  in  its  best  aspect,  it  may  serve  to  realize  that  of  John,  in 
the  loneliness  of  the  rough  wilderness  of  Judea. 

In  its  rugged  solitudes,  his  soul  gradually  rose  to  the  consciousness  of 
a  great  mission.  He  believed  that  the  wrath  of  God  was  near  at  hand,  to 
take  vengeance  on  the  unrighteousness  of  men,  but  he  knew  that  the  God 
of  Abraham,  even  in  wrath,  remembers  mercy,  and  that,  with  the  judg- 
ments, there  would  come  the  long-promised  Deliverer.  His  impetuous 
nature,  and  a  heart  that  never  feared  the  face  of  man,  raised  hinr  to  the 
level  of  the  old  prophets,  and  impelled  him,  like  them,  to  address  his 
generation.  Instinct  with  the  deepest  religious  feeling ;  of  a  transparent 
simplicity,  and  reverent  truthfulness  of  word  and  bearing ;  glowing  with 
energy ;  a  living  embodiment  of  sincerity  and  self-denial,  and  in  the  best 
position,  from  his  earliest  years,  to  know  the  age ;  he  was,  above  all  men, 
fitted  to  rouse  the  sleeping  conscience  of  Israel,  and  to  lay  bare  the  self- 
deceptions  and  sins  of  even  the  religionists  of  the  day.  Though  a  heredi- 
tary priest,  he  had  stood  aloof  from  the  Temple  service,  for  its  mechanical 
rites  gave  him  no  inner  peace. 

From  the  Temple  aristocracy  he  shrank  with  a  special  aversion,  for  the 
guilt  of  the  nation  culminated  in  them.  Under  the  mantle  of  legal  purity, 
and  behind  the  cheap  popular  sanctity  of  the  Pharisees,  his  c^uick  eye  saw, 
at  a  glance,  hateful  ambition,  greed,  and  hypocrisy.  The  nation  itself 
stirred  his  soul,  as  he  saw  it,  in  a  time  so  earnest,  contenting  itself  with 
Pharisaic  righteousness,  and  trusting,  with  insane  self-complacency,  to  its 
being  the  people  of  God.  In  his  loneliness,  his  soul  had  communed  much 
with  the  prophets  of  the  Old  Covenant,  and  found  in  their  holy  zeal  for 
Israel  and  God ;  in  their  demand  for  a  higher  righteousness  of  the  heart 
and  life,  instead  of  sacrifices  of  beasts ;  in  their  lofty  announcement  of  a 
Divine  future  for  his  nation,  if  it  prepared  itself  for  it— the  prophetic  long- 
ing and  prophecy  of  his  own  spirit.  That  he  never  names  Moses  shows 
that  he  must  have  passed  beyond  the  Law  to  the  Prophets.  Isaiah, 
especially,  had  excited  in  him  a  faith  so  deep  and  intelligent  that  Jesus 
rebuked  his  fears,  when  perplexed  and  doubting,  by  a  quotation  from  that 
prophet's  Messianic  predictions.  The  few  fragments  left  of  his  preaching 
abound  in  figures  borrowed  from  this,  his  favourite  book — the  viper  bi'ood, 
the  trees  of  God's  vineyard,  the  felling  that  which  was  barren,  the  con- 
suming fire,  the  threshing  floor,  the  winnowing  shovel,  and  the  giving 
bread  and  clothing  to  the  poor. 

John's  life  in  the  wilderness  seems  to  have  been  no  short  retirement, 
His  whole  later  bearing,  his  mode  of  life,  his  sad  passionate  earnestness. 
and  even  his  lofty  resolve  to  come  forth  as  a  prophet,  imply  a  long  abode 
in  the  solemn  freedom  of  the  desert,  far  from  the  distracting  and  enfeebling 
tumult  of  life.  But,  though  in  the  same  wilderness,  he  was  iioEssene^ 
His  relation  to  the  people  at  large,  his  conception  of  a  kingdom 'of  Gx)d  in 
their  midst,  his  later  preaching  to  them,  his  sympathy  even  for  publicans 

u 


242  THE   LIFE   OF   CHEIST. 

and  sinners— from  whom  the  Essenes  and  Pharisees  shrank  as  poUution  — 
even  his  food,  which,  though  simple,  was  still,  in  part,  of  flesh,  show  that 
he  was  in  no  way  connected  with  that  order.  Like  its  members,  he  was 
unmarried;  like  them,  he  denied  himself  all  indulgence,  and  showed  a 
prophet-like  grandeur  in  his  standard  of  aim  and  practice.  But  though 
their  settlements  were  close  at  hand,  and  were  open  to  him,  he  chose  to 
live  free  and  alone.  It  was  well  he  did  so,  for  this  freedom  created  an 
impulse  before  which  the  nation  trembled  and  lived,  while  Essenism,  with 
no  vital  power  beyond  itself,  left  it  to  lie  dead. 

The  fundamental  principle  in  John's  seclusion  was,  in  fact,  exactly  the 
reverse  of  that  of  the  recluses  of  his  day.  They  dwelt  apart  from  men,  to 
seek  their  own  spiritual  good  with  a  pious  and  cynical  selfishness.  John 
sought  the  wilderness  by  an  impulse  which  seemed  like  the  voice  of  God, 
to  seek,  in  its  loneliness,  a  nobler  spiritual  life  than  seemed  possible  amidst 
the  religious  decay  of  the  time.  As  a  Jew,  he  had  not  risen  above  the 
external  and  material  in  religion.  An  earnest,  strong,  all-embracing 
heroism  of  self-denial,  which  proved  its  depth  by  its  self -inflictions ;  a 
rejection  of  all  temptations  of  society  and  culture,  with  their  threatening 
possibilities  of  defilement ;  a  strenuous  war  against  nature,  in  every 
appetite,  to  the  extent  of  enduring  the  privations  of  hunger,  homelessness, 
and  exposure ;  were,  at  once,  the  discipline  by  which  he  struggled  against 
the  "  uncleanness  "  he  still  lamented,  and  the  aids  by  which  he  hoped  to 
attain  nearness  to  God.  Yet  he  was  far  from  caring  only  for  himself. 
His  future  career,  and  his  very  clothing,  which  was  that  of  an  ancient 
prophet,  showed  that  he  carried  the  burden  of  his  people  on  his  soul,  and 
had  fled  from  the  crowd  to  entreat  God  for  them,  by  prayer  and  penitence, 
and,  in  accordance  with  the  ideas  of  his  time,  to  preiJare,  on  behalf  of  all, 
by  holy  fasts,  for  gracious  revelations  from  heaven. 

This  revelation  he,  in  fact,  received.  He  already  saw  that  the  times 
were  ripe  for  the  judgments  of  God.  The  slavery  to  heathen  Eome  had 
followed  the  agony  of  the  days  of  Herod,  and  had  dispelled  every  hope. 
For  nearly  a  generation  he  had  seen  nothing  but  misery  in  the  land.  In 
his  boyhood,  the  census  of  Quirinius  had  drenched  the  country  in  blood, 
and  had  been  followed  by  such  oppression  as  had,  already  in  his  early 
manhood,  exhausted  the  resources  of  the  nation,  and  caused  a  despairing 
appeal  to  Eome  for  relief.  Eapacious  and  unjust  governors,  true  Eoman 
knights,  seeking  only  their  own  fortune,  and  rioting  in  the  abuse  of  their 
power,  had  added  burdens  for  their  own  advantage;  the  officials  and 
soldiers  had  only  too  faithfully  copied  their  lawless  violence;  heathen  gar- 
risons occupied  the  Holy  City  and  the  Temple ;  the  high  priesthood  had 
become  a  mere  sport  of  those  in  power,  and  all  the  sanctities  of  the  national 
life  had  been  mocked  and  outraged  in  turn.  Since  the  year  26,  Pontius 
Pilate  had  been  governor,  a  man  to  be  compared  only  to  Gessius  Florus, 
the  last  Eoman  Procurator,  whose  enormities  in  the  end  roused  the  war 
of  despair  in  which  Jerusalem  perished.  Pilate  Avilfully  set  himself  to 
insult  and  violate  the  sacred  customs.  It  was  beneath  him  to  study  the 
people  he  ruled.  ISTot  merely  harsh  and  hot-headed— carrying  matters 
haughtily  even  towards  Antipas  and  the  sons  of  Herod— he  was  male- 


THE    VOICE    IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  243 

volent,  aud  ever  on  the  watch  to  gratify  by  cunning  and  venomous  threats, 
the  hatred  rankling  in  his  breast  against  a  race  he  did  not  understand, 
and  who  defied  him.  The  people  of  Jerusalem  suffered  at  his  hands  a 
series  of  provocations  without  end,  of  malicious  injuries,  brawls,  and 
massacres.  So  envenomed  was  he,  indeed,  that  even  when  he  saw  his 
mistake  and  trembled  before  Tiberius,  he  would  not  j'ield,  because  he  could 
not  consent  to  do  his  subjects  a  pleasure.  Philo,  his  contemporary, 
charges  him  with  accepting  bribes,  with  acts  of  wanton  violence,  with 
robberies,  with  shameful  treatment  of  many,  wanton  insults  and  threats, 
continual  executions  contrary  to  law,  and  aimless  aud  grievous  cruelties. 
"  He  was  a  malicious  and  furious  man,"  says  Philo,  "  unwilling  to  do  any- 
thing that  he  thought  would  please  his  subjects."  The  nation  looked  back 
even  on  Herod's  daj's  with  regret,  so  much  worse  had  become  its  state, 
now  that  it  was  trodden  under  foot  by  the  Romans,  and  saw  no  hope  of 
relief.  John  had  noted  all  this.  Living  close  to  Jerusalem,  he  had  been 
amidst  it  all;  imlike  Jesus,  who  had  lived  far  off  in  Galilee.  He  had 
shuddered  at  the  siDcctacle  of  infidel  high  priests — mere  Sadducees,  cul- 
minating now  in  Caiaphas,  whom  the  people  hated,  but  Pilate  liked,  or,  at 
least,  endured.  He  had  learned  to  despise  the  bulk  of  the  Eabbis,  who 
tamely  bowed  to  the  shameful  yoke  they  had  invoked,  and  submitted  to  it 
from  interest.  Nor  were  the  people  better  than  their  leaders.  They  lived 
in  the  day  dreams  of  a  merely  outward  piety,  with  proud  and  mercenary 
hopes  of  a  rich  earthly  reward  for  it  from  the  Messiah. 

Amidst  such  mingled  crime,  wickedness,  and  corruption,  the  soul  of 
John  was  filled  with  humiliation  and  grief.  The  Holy  Law,  given  at 
Sinai,  had  sunk  to  a  superstitious  creed,  and  was  only  tolerated  by  Rome ; 
the  sceptre  of  the  nation  was  broken  in  pieces,  though  it  had  been  promised 
that  it  would  be  everlasting ;  the  Holy  Hill  had  become  the  citadel  of  an 
uncircumcised  soldiery,  and  the  streets,  which  had  echoed  to  the  min- 
strelsy of  David  and  his  sacred  choir,  were  invaded  by  the  ensigns  and 
music  of  a  Gentile  nation.  It  seemed  as  if  God  must  presently  appear. 
He  had  never  before  remained  for  centuries  without  baring  His  Mighty 
Ai"m ;  He  had  never  before  endured,  thus,  the  derision  of  the  heathen,  or 
the  sin  of  His  people ;  He  had  never  before  left  them  to  jierish  as  now. 
For  His  own  name  sake  He  would  assuredly  come.  The  prophecies  of 
Daniel  had  predicted  only  a  short  triumph  to  the  iron  kingdom,  Rome, 
and  it  had  now  lasted  for  a  generation.  But  even  in  these  last  days,  had 
not  the  curse  on  the  house  of  the  Idumean, — the  destruction  of  Antipater, 
Phasael,  Herod,  Archelaus,  and  many  others  of  the  hated  race, — shown 
that  the  wrath  of  God  was  kindled,  and  that  His  avenging  judgments 
were  on  the  way  ?  The  indignation  of  God,  foretold  by  the  prophets,  muiit 
speedily  fall,  alike  on  apostate  Israel,  and  on  her  enemies, 

"What  John  had  foreboded  in  Hebron  or  Jerusalem,  became  a  certainty 
to  him  in  the  wilderness.  The  lonely  vastness  raised  him  above  anxious 
contrasts  of  the  weakness  of  Israel  and  the  might  of  Rome,  which  might 
have  paralyzed  resolution,  and  bidden  hope  despair.  The  solemn  stillness 
of  the  hills,  and  the  boundless  sweep  of  the  daily  and  nightly  heavens, 
effaced  the  thought  of  man,  and  filled  his  soul  with  the  majesty  of  God, 


244  THE    LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

What  was  man,  whose  days  were  a  hand-bread fch,  and  whose  foundation 
Avas  in  tlie  dust,  before  the  Mighty  Maker  of  Heaven  and  Earth — the  Rock 
of  lyrael  ?  He  had  often  appeared  to  dcHvcr  His  people  when  their  case 
seemed  hopeless.  And  did  not  the  chastisements  of  God,  in  the  prophets, 
always  come  laden  Avith  hidden  good  ?  Were  not  cursing  and  blessing, 
smiting  and  healing,  death  and  resurrection,  always  joined  in  His  visita- 
tions ?  John's  own  history  in  the  wilderness  gave  him  hope  for  his  race. 
His  jDrayers,  his  penitence,  his  renunciation  of  the  Avorld,  his  life  devoted 
to  God,  had  removed  the  burden  and  agony  of  his  soul,  and  he  had  found 
peace,  and  rest,  and  grace,  and  heavenly  light.  What  he  had  felt,  was 
possible  for  all  Israel.  If  they  could  only  be  brought  to  resolve,  to  turn, 
to  repent,  to  live  a  new  life,  their  repentance  Avould  bring  down  showers 
of  blessings,  as  it  had  always  done  in  the  past,  and  the  lightnings  and 
thunders  of  judgment  would  break  in  wrath  on  their  foes,  but  in  heavenly 
help  to  themselves.  The  repentance  of  Isi'ael  would  bring  the  Messiah. 
He  knew  He  was  near.  It  had  been  revealed  even  before  his  birth  that  lie 
himself  was  to  go  before  Him,  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias,  to  make 
ready  a  people  prepared  for  the  Lord.  The  call  of  God  rang  in  his  soul 
like  a  trumpet,  to  go  forth  and  preach  to  the  people  the  coming  of  the  ex- 
pected Deliverer,  in  wrath  to  the  impenitent,  and  grace  to  the  contrite. 
Led  by  the  Divine  spirit,  through  long  years  of  spiritual  struggle— his 
soul  turned  inward  on  itself  and  upward  to  God — Ids  body  subdued  by 
long  exposure  and  jirivation,  and  his  Avhole  being  raised  to  a  lofty  invin- 
cibility of  purpose,  untamed  by  customs,  unweakened  by  comj^liances,  but 
filled  Avith  meditation  and  high  religious  life — he  had,  at  length,  felt  equal 
to  taking  the  sublimest  and  most  terrible  position  into  which  a  frail  man 
could  be  raised  by  the  Almighty,  that  of  the  herald  predicted  by  his 
favourite  Isaiah,  to  pioneer  the  Avay  for  the  Messiah  of  God.  He  AA'as  to 
fill  up  the  valleys,  and  make  low  the  mountains  and  hills,  to  make  the 
crooked  places  straight  and  the  rough  places  even ;  that  is,  to  rebuke  the 
lofty  and  proud ;  to  raise  up  the  humble  and  oppressed ;  to  spare  none  of 
the  crooked  i^olicies  and  Avays  of  men,  and  to  smooth  down  their  roughness 
by  a  hearty  repentance,  so  as  to  fit  them  for  tlie  peaceful  entrance  of  the 
Christ. 

The  kingdom  of  God,  as  thus  realized  by  John,  was  far  higher  and 
grander  than  previous  conceptions.  In  his  infancy,  Judas  the  son  of 
Saripheus,  and  Mattathias,  had  sought  to  bring  in  the  reign  of  the  Messiah 
by  a  political  rising,  Avhich  had  been  quenched  in  blood.  In  his  boyhood, 
Judas  the  Galilasan,  had,  in  the  same  Avay,  appealed  to  force,  for  the  same 
end,  but  had  only  covered  the  land  Avith  mourning.  Yet  the  party  was 
daily  increasing  Avith  whom  a  religious  war  Avith  Rome  had  become  a 
fanatical  creed.  Even  in  Samaria  it  was  proclaimed  that  the  kingdom  of 
God  was  about  to<!ome,  and  that  it  would  take  an  outward  political  form. 
The  misery  that  had  roused  Judea  had  also  pressed  heavily  on  the  Samari- 
tans, and  their  national  jealousy  of  the  Jews  anticipated  a  share  in  the  ex- 
pected Messianic  glory.  In  their  opinion,  they,  and  not  the  Jews,  held 
the  real  Holy  Land  promised  to  Abraliam — the  land  Avhere  the  patriarchs 
had  fed  their  flocks ;  they  had  the  true  Temple  Mount,  and  the  true  LaAV, 


THE    VOICE    IN   THE   WILDEENESS.  245 

free  from  the  corruj^tions  of  the  prophets ;  upon  their  holy  mountaui  Moses 
had  buried  the  true  vessels  of  the  Tabernacle,  which  the  Jews  claimed  to 
have  possessed  under  the  Temple  of  Solomon,  and  Avhich,  they  asserted, 
had  been  miraciilously  hidden,  after  the  Temple  had  been  destroyed  by 
the  Chaldeans.  The  possession  of  these  vessels  was  all  important,  for, 
with  the  fondness  for  outward  embodiments  of  belief  common  to  the  East, 
it  was  held  that  the  place  where  they  were  hidden  would  be  the  scene  of 
the  proclamation  of  the  Messiah.  A  cherished  promise,  they  avowed, 
announced  that  when  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  was  set  up,  the  Ark, 
and  these  sacred  vessels,  would  be  again  brought  forth.  Jeremiah,  so  ran 
the  Jewish  tradition,  being  warned  of  God,  commanded  the  Tabernacle 
and  the  Ark  to  go  with  him  to  Mount  ISTebo,  and  there  he  hid  them  and 
the  altar  of  incense  in  a  hollow  cave,  and  stopped  the  door,  which  none 
who  went  with  him  could  afterwards  find.  Jeremiah  thereon  told  them 
that  it  would  be  "  unknown  till  the  time  when  God  gathers  His  people 
again  together,  and  receives  them  to  mercy.  Then  shall  the  Lord  show 
them  these  things  again,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  appear,  and  the 
cloud  also,  as  it  was  shown  unto  Moses."  A  fuller  version  of  this  tradition 
introduced  an  angel  as  the  chief  actor,  instead  of  Jeremiah.  Shortly 
befoi-e  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  it  went  on,  this  heavenly  being 
descended  to  Jerusalem,  alighting  on  the  Temple,  to  save  it.  Having 
prepared  the  Tabernacle,  the  Ephod  of  the  High  Priest,  the  Ark,  the 
Two  Tables  of  stone  from  Sinai,  the  golden  robes  of  the  High  Priest, 
the  Altar  of  Incense,  the  Urim  and  Thummim,  and  the  holy  vessels,  for 
removal,  he  carried  them  to  a  secret  place,  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice, 
"  0  earth,  earth,  earth !  hear  the  word  of  the  mighty  Lord,  and  receive 
what  I  commit  to  thee,  and  keep  it  to  the  end  of  the  times,  to  restore  it 
agahi  when  thou  art  commanded,  that  the  stranger  get  not  possession  of 
these  things.  For  the  time  will  come  when  Jerusalem  shall  arise  again, 
to  endure  for  ever  !  "  Then  the  earth  opened  her  mouth,  and  swallowed 
up  all.  A  third  version,  used  figuratively  in  the  Apocaly|3se,  supposes  the 
holy  vessels  to  have  been  taken  to  heaven  and  hidden  there.  He  who 
overcomes  is  to  eat  of  the  manna  which  is  hidden  in  heaven,  and  when 
"  the  Temple  of  God  was  opened  above,  there  was  seen  in  it  the  Ark  of  the 
Covenant." 

The  Samaritans,  cherishing  these  fancies  no  less  warmly  than  the  Jews, 
gave  them  a  local  colour,  and  had  persuaded  themselves  that  the  true 
place  of  the  mysteriously  hidden  treasui-es  was  the  top  of  Gerizim,  beside 
their  own  city— the  hill  from  whose  top  the  tril^es  of  Israel  had  sounded 
the  blessings  of  the  Law,  on  the  entrance  of  Joshua  into  Canaan. 

How  intensely  such  thoughts  were  fermenting  in  the  minds  of  the 
Samaritans  in  these  years,  was  shown  a  little  later,  when  John's  mission 
had  closed  without  bringing  them  the  results  they  had  expected ;  for  what 
then  took  place  was  only  the  final  outburst  of  feelings  long  pent  up.  "  A 
man,"  says  Josephus,  "  who  made  nothing  of  falsehood,  and  tickled  the 
multitude  by  whatever  seemed  likely  to  please  them,"  had  determined,  if 
ho  could,  to  raise  a  popular  movement,  like  that  of  John's,  which  had 
swept  over  Judea  and  Galilee,  with  the  hope,  most  probably,  of  being  able 


246  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

to  turn  it  to  political  nccoimt.  Sending  abroad  a  report  through  tho 
valleys  of  Samaria,  that  a  new  prophet  would  reveal,  on  a  fixed  day,  on 
Mount  Gerizim,  the  place  where  Moses  had  hidden  the  vessels  of  tho 
Tabernacle,  he  raised  an  uncontrollable  excitement.  The  announcement 
implied  that  the  kingdom  of  God  would  on  that  day  appear,  for  the  sacred 
vessels  were  to  remain  hidden  till  it  was  to  begin.  It  was  a  crafty 
scheme,  to  transfer  to  Samaria  the  boastful  hopes  which  had  been  the 
glory  of  Judea,  by  making  open  claim  to  the  possession  of  the  mysterious 
treasures,  and  of  the  Law  in  its  purity.  On  the  day  appointed,  thousands 
gathered  between  Ebal  and  Gerizim.  ISTew  caravans  continually  brought 
fresh  numbers  to  Tirabatha,  the  village  named  by  the  prophet  as  the 
rendezvous,  till  the  matter  became  serious  in  its  possible  political  results, 
since  the  "  ciders"  of  the  people  identified  themselves  with  tho  movement. 
Pilate  Avas  alarmed,  fearing  that  the  multitude  might  he  easily  led  from 
a  search  for  the  sacred  vessels  to  open  sedition.  His  brutality  had,  in 
fact,  already  prepared  them  for  it.  He  therefore  forbade  the  pilgrimage, 
and  placed  posts  of  foot  and  horse  at  all  the  approaches  to  Gerizim,  to 
prevent  any  one  ascending  it.  But  the  vast  crowds,  many  of  whom  were 
armed,  would  not  be  baulked,  and  tried  to  force  their  way  to  the  sacred 
spot.  Pilate,  on  this,  ordered  the  troops  to  disperse  them ;  fierce  fighting 
followed,  in  which  many  were  killed,  the  rest  taking  to  flight ;  the  principal 
men  among  the  j^risoners,  taken  during  or  after  the  battle,  being  put  to 
death. 

This  tragical  incident  took  place  a  few  years  after  John's  appearance, 
but  it  was  of  a  piece  with  the  popular  feeling  respecting  the  Messianic 
kingdom  which  was  mixed  up  with  the  politics  of  the  day.  John  kept 
entirely  aloof  from  such  views.  If,  as  a  Jew,  he  hoped  that  Israel  would 
hereafter  be  exalted  under  the  Messiah,  he  left  that  for  future  disclosure, 
and  confined  himself  exclusively  to  the  moral  and  spiritual.  He  was  no 
political  agitator,  no  revolutionary,  like  Judas  the  Galila3an:  his  Messianic 
kingdom,  like  that  of  Jesus,  was,  at  least  for  the  time,  a  kingdom  not  of 
this  world. 


CHAPTEE    XXV. 

THE   NEW   PEOPHET   IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

XN  the  fifteenth  year  of  Tiberius,  which  fell  between  August,  a.d.  28,  and 
-^  August,  A.D.  29,  the  Roman  empire  lay  under  the  shadow  of  the 
darkest  years  of  the  tyrant,  now  an  old  man  of  seventy-one.  Among  those 
alive  at  the  time,  and  remembered  since,  for  good  or  evil,  the  elder  Pliny 
—  afterwards,  when  a  Eoman  admiral,  killed  at  the  first  eruption,  in 
historical  times,  of  Mount  Vesuvius  —was  a  child  of  four ;  Vespasian, 
hereafter,  with  his  son  Titus,  to  crush  Jerusalem,  was  full  of  the  ambitions 
and  dreams  of  a  youth  of  19  ;  Caligula,  one  day  to  horrify  the  world  by 
the  spectacle  of  an  insane  despot  at  the  head  of  the  empire,  was  a  lad  of 
16 ;  Claudius,  hereafter  to  be  emperor,  was  a  poor,  lame,  trembling  man  of 
38,  and  among  the  marriages  of  the  year  was  that  of  the  daughter  of  the 


THE   NEW   PROPHET   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  247 

ill-fated  Gei'manicus,  from  -which,  nine  years  later,  was  born  Nero. 
Things  were  very  peaceful  throughout  the  empire,  for  the  only  wars  at  the 
moment  were  with  the  Thracians,  on  the  east  of  Europe,  and  with  the 
Fi'isians,  in  the  Dutch  swamps  on  the  north-west.  Pontius  Pilate  had 
been  two  years  procurator  of  Samaria,  Judea,  and  Idumea,  Herod  Antipas 
had  reigned  for  about  thirty-two  years  over  Galilee  and  Samaria,  and  was 
n  Dw  a  man  of  about  50,  and  Philip  his  brother,  about  the  same  age,  and  of 
the  eame  standing  as  a  ruler,  was  still  tetrach  of  the  rest  of  the  land  be- 
yond the  Jordan  ;  living  a  quiet  life,  usefully  and  worthily. 

Excepting  the  religious  rising  of  Judas,  and  the  other  confusions  after  t 
Herod's  death,  and  at  the  time  of  the  census  by  Quirinius,  Palestine  had  \ 
enjoyed  nominal  peace  for  nearly  sixty  years.  ISTew  cities  and  towns,  with 
all  the  elegances  and  splendour  of  Roman  civilization,  had  risen  over  the 
land — Cgesarea,  with  its  docks,  piers,  warehouses,  and  broad  streets,  on 
which  a  splendid  temple  to  Aiigustus,  seen  far  off  at  sea,  looked,  down. 
In  Jerusalem,  the  Tem^jle,  four  huge  castles,  the  theatre,  the  circus,  and 
Herod's  new  palace,  had  been  built.  Sama^ria  had  been  restored  with 
great  splendour,  and  re-named  Sebaste,  the  Greek  equivalent  of  Augusta, 
after  the  Emperor.  The  old  Kajohar  Saba,  on  the  inner  edge  of  the  sea 
l^lain,  behind  Joppa,  had  been  rebuilt,  and  re-named  Antipatris,  after 
Herod's  father.  Near  Jericho,  two  tov\'ns — Kypros,  named  after  Herod's 
mother,  and  Phasaelis,  after  his  brother,— had  been  founded.  Anthedon, 
close  to  Gaza,  on  the  sea  coast,  had  been  raised  from  its  ruins,  and  called 
Agrippeion,  after  Agrippa,  the  son-in-law  of  Augustus.  Two  great  fort- 
resses had  risen,  called  Herodion,  after  Herod, — one  in  the  hills  on  the 
south  border,  the  other,  three  hours  from  Jerusalem,  at  the  head  of  the 
descent  to  the  Jordan  valley,  where  Herod  had  once  had  a  sore  struggle 
with  the  rebellioTis  Jews  who  pursued  him.  The  passion  of  Augustus  for 
obliterating  the  traces  of  the  great  civil  wars  throughout  the  empire,  had 
everywhere  been  flattered  by  creations  which  at  once  beautified  tho  land, 
and  defiled  it  by  their  heathen  accessories.  In  the  far  north,  Philip,  after 
his  father's  death,  had  restored  Paneas,  in  the  green  lap  of  Mount  Hermon, 
and  called  it  Csesarea  Philijjpi,  in  flattery  of  the  emperor,  and  on  the 
north-east  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  he  had  embellished  the  old  Bethsaida,  and 
re-named  it  Julias,  after  the  daughter  of  Augustus.  In  Galilee,  Herod 
Antipas  had  rebuilt  Sepjihoris,  and  surrounded  its  hill  with  strong  walls ; 
in  the  sheltered  green  plain  opposite  Jericho— the  "  Valley  of  the  Acacias," 
of  the  days  of  Joshua — he  had  built  a  fine  town  known  as  Livias,  in  com- 
pliment to  the  unworthy  wife  of  Augustus,  and  within  the  last  ten  years 
he  had  founded  the  splendid  new  caj)ital  on  the  shores  of  the  Lake  of 
Galilee,  and  called  it  Tiberias,  after  the  new  emperor.  Even  the  gross 
and  sensual  Archelaus  had  copied  to  some  extent  his  father's  example,  for 
a  new  town  had  risen  on  the  west  side  of  the  Jordan,  amidst  palm  groves 
elaborately  irrigated,  and  named  after  himself,  Archelais. 

The   "  Eoman    peace "   which   was    destined  to  prepare  the  way  for     ; 
Christianity,  by  breaking  down  the  barriers  between  nations,  and  fusing 
the  civilized  world,  for  the  time,  into  one  mighty  commonwealth,  had  thus     [ 
boi'ne  fruits  on  all  sides,  though  misgovernnient  was  silently  undermining 


248  THE   LIFE    OF   CHIIIST. 

the  Avliole  imperial  system.  The  East  was  in  profound  peace.  The 
Parthian  cavahy  hosts,  who  were  the  terror  of  the  age,  had  not  watered 
their  horses  in  the  Euphrates,  or  dared  to  cross  it,  for  two  generations. 
But  they  still  swarmed  over  the  plains  of  Parthia,  and  only  waited  the 
orders  of  the  court  of  Ctesiphon,  to  dash  in  on  the  exposed  territory  of 
Palestine.  Four  legions,  held  in  reserve  in  Syria,  and  a  strong  line  of 
military  posts  along  the  Euphrates,— at  the  thought  of  being  ordered  to 
which  the  Eoman  military  youth  shuddered,  as  a  banishment  from  the 
world, — barely  sufficed  to  hold  these  fierce  Cossacks  of  the  age  in  check. 
The  terror  they  had  inspired  in  their  last  invasion  was  still  unabated,  for 
even  St.  John,  forty  years  later,  in  the  Apocalypse,  saw  four  destroying 
angels  bound  in  the  great  river  Euphrates,  who  were  loosed  to  slay  the 
third  part  of  men.  Two  hundred  thousand  horsemen,  in  fiery  blue  and 
brimstone-coloured  mail,  rode  forth  through  the  dried  up  river-bed,  an 
army  of  hell,  to  destroy  mankind — symbols  taken,  unquestionably,  from 
the  remembrance  of  the  Parthians.  The  Roman  historians  use  language 
hardly  less  striking  of  the  endless  rushing  swarms  of  wild  cavalry — their 
terrible  shouts,  like  the  bellowing  of  beasts,  and  the  hideous  clamour  of 
countless  drums,  like  the  noise  of  thunder  ;  their  breastplates  and  helmets 
of  steel  glittering  like  lightning,  their  horses  covered  with  brass  and  steel 
trappings,  the  faces  of  the  soldiers  painted,  and  their  shaggy  hair  gathered 
in  a  mass  iipon  their  foi'eheads,  after  the  Scythian  fashion.  Their  dreadful 
lances,  their  feigned  retreats,  their  resistless  arrows,  the  clouds  of  dust 
they  raised  by  their  charges,  hiding  the  battle-field, — their  spears,  their 
slings,  their  blazing  banners,  gleaming  with  gold  and  silver,  are  all  re- 
counted. John  and  Jesus,  doubtless,  had  both  often  heard  from  the  men 
of  the  generation  before  them,  how  these  awful  enemies  had  wasted  the 
land  once  and  again,  swarming  on  their  lean  and  untiring  steppe  horses 
through  every  valley,  murdering,  violating,  burning,  and  plundering,  for 
their  squadrons  of  "  Immortals  "  and  "  Freemen,"  especially,  remained  the 
terror  of  after  years,  as  the  smybol  of  treachery,  greed,  and  ruthless 
brutality. 
I".  It  Avas  in  such  a  state  of  things  that  John  at  last  came  forth  from  his 
retreat,  as  a  prophet  to  his  nation.  The  nearness  of  the  wilderness  of 
Judea  to  Jerusalem,  and  the  dense  population  on  every  side  of  it,  had  no 
doubt  led  many  to  visit  him  from  time  to  time  ;  for  the  report  of  a  hermit 
of  special  sanctity,  living  in  any  particular  district,  invariably  attracted 
many  to  see  him  and  receive  his  counsels.  He  made  his  first  public  appear- 
ance on  the  Lower  Jordan. 

Two  hours  east  of  the  wretched  village  which  is  the  Jericho  of  the  pre- 
sent, but  three  hours  from  the  site  of  the  city  of  John's  day,  and  eight  or 
nine  hours  from- Jerusalem,  the  Jordan  flows  with  a  quick  current  towards 
the  Dead  Sea,  which  is  in  sight,  close  at  liand.  Rising  in  the  spurs  of 
Lebanon,  and  gathering  tributary  springs  and  brooks  at  OjBsarca  Phih'ppi, 
— from  which  Christ  set  out  on  His  last  journey  to  Jerusalem — flowing,  ere 
long,  through  the  pear-shaped,  marshy  Sea  of  Merom,  and  then  through 
the  lovely  Lake  of  Galilee,  the  course  of  the  stream,  from  its  leaving  the 
lake  to  its  passing  Jericho,  is  only  sixty  English  miles  in  a  direct  line,  but 


I 


THE    NEW   PROPHET    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  249 

two  hundred  if  we  follow  its  countless  twistings  and  turnings.  Near 
Jericho  it  has  a  breadth  of  from  ninety  to  a  hundred  feet,  and  a  varying 
depth  of  from  three  to  seven,  and  hence  can  be  forded  easily,  except  during 
the  time  of  floods  in  spring,  autumn,  and  winter,  when  to  attempt  to  cross  is 
very  dangerous.  It  was  at  this  part  of  the  Jordan  that  Vespasian's  soldiers, 
in  the  last  war,  drove  such  multitudes  of  the  Jews  into  the  stream,  when 
swollen  by  spring  floods,  that  "  the  river  could  not  be  passed  over  on  ac- 
count of  the  dead  bodies  that  were  in  it "  (which  might  defile  one),  "  and 
the  Lake  Asphaltitis"  (the  Dead  Sea)  "was  also  full  of  corpses,  carried  down 
into  it  by  the  river."  The  waters  flowing  on  towards  the  Dead  Sea,  be- 
tween double  banks,  marking  their  lower  and  higher  levels,  in  November 
and  April — here  muddy,  and  elsewhere  steep — covered  with  dense  vegeta- 
tion, or  with  waving  forests  of  reeds  :  the  rounded  hills  of  Judea  on  the 
west,  giving  way  to  the  lofty  peaks  of  Ammon  on  the  east, — made  a  scene 
well  suited  for  his  ministrations.  Dense  thickets  of  red  tamarisks,  stately 
sycamores,  with  their  white  stems  and  broad  leaves,  oaks  with  their  dark, 
massy  shadow,  bending  acacias,  pale  green  willows  and  many-coloured 
oleanders,  still  cover  the  upper  terrace,  varied  by  long,  swampy  tracts  of 
reeds,  taller  than  a  tall  man,  on  the  lower  levels — while  over  the  former, 
in  John's  day,  rose  graceful  clumps  of  palms,  "the  pride  of  Jordan,"  in 
which  lions  found  covert  in  the  time  of  the  prophets.  The  valley 
is  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  broad,  and  is  barren  wherever  it  rises 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  spring  floods.  Above  it,  a  plain  of  nine  or  twelve 
miles  breadth,  and  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet  higher  than  the  ground  beneath, 
stretches,  on  the  west  side,  to  the  foot  of  the  rugged,  bare,  Jewish  hills, 
which  rise  to  the  height  of  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  feet,  and,  on  the 
east,  to  the  hills  of  Perea,  two  thousand  to  five  thousand  feet  high.  This 
plain,  the  barren  background  to  a  fringe  of  verdure,  is  the  once  famous 
"  circle  of  the  Jordan,"  where  Sodom  and  other  towns  flourished,  till 
volcanic  forces,  as  instruments  of  the  wrath  of  God,  destroyed  them.  It 
is  now  known  by  the  name  of  El  Ghor,  and  is  a  vast,  sandy,  barren  expanse, 
hot  as  a  furnace,  and  very  unhealthy  in  summer,  from  the  depth  of  the  Jordan 
gorge  beneath  the  sea-level.  Hence,  in  the  time  of  John,  it  formed  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  green  paradise  on  the  western  bank,^"  the  divine  land," 
immediately  around  Jericho,  the  city  of  palms  and  roses, — as  it  still  does 
to  the  rich  fringe  of  vegetation  skirting  the  waters,  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  river,  but  vanishing  like  a  dream  at  only  a  few  paces  from  them. 

It  was  in  this  region,  beside  the  flowing  stream,  with  the  wild,  stony 
hills  shutting  in  the  view  on  both  sides  ;  in  a  landscape  where  the  narrow 
1  units  of  the  yearly  floods  drew  a  sharp  line  between  tropical  luxuriance 
and  the  scorched  and  desert  barrenness  beyond,  that  John — of  whom  Jesus 
could  say,  in  allusion  to  the  waving  cane  beds  on  the  river's  edge,  that  he 
was  no  reed  shaken  in  the  wind,  but  in  very  truth,  Elias  who  was  to  come, 
a  prophet,  and  much  more  than  a  prophet — lifted  up  his  voice  as  the  mes- 
senger before  the  face  of  God's  Anointed,  to  prepare  His  way.  The 
appearance  of  John  was  itself  sufficient  to  arrest  attention.  His  spare 
form,  attenuated  by  meagre  food  and  austerity :  his  bright  Jewish  eyes, 
full  of  the  living  energy  that  burned  within  :  his  long  hair,  uncut  for  thirty 


250  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

ycar.s,  the  mark  of  JSTazarifce  consecration :  liis  rongli  haircloth  garment, 
and  his  coarse  leathern  girdle,  made  him  the  ideal  of  one  of  the  ancient 
prophets.  The  Scriptures  described  the  greatest  of  the  prophets— Elijah 
the  Tishbite,  whom  all  expected  to  reappear  before  the  Messiah— in  ex- 
actly such  a  guise  as  John  presented— "a  long-haired  man,  wearing  a 
leathern  girdle ; "  and  they  knew  from  the  lessons  in  the  synagogue,  if 
they  had  not  read  it  for  themselves,  that  the  rough  haircloth  mantle  had 
been  the  common  dress  of  the  old  prophets  as  a  class.  It  was  also,  even 
then,  that  of  grief  and  contrition;  adding  to  its  associations  with  the 
sacred  past  an  appeal  to  their  own  sense  of  guilt  and  need  of  repentance. 

The  idea  of  the  wilderness  was  sacred  to  the  Jews.  "  From  it,"  say  the 
Eabbis,  "  came  the  Law,  the  Tabernacle,  the  Sanhedrim,  the  priesthood, 
and  the  office  of  the  Levites.  Even  the  kingship,  and,  indeed,  every  good 
gift  which  God  granted  Israel,  came  from  the  desert."  The  invitation  of 
the  people  to  it  was  in  itself  significant,  for  it  recalled  the  words  of  Isaiah 
— "  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  straight  in  the  desert  a  highway 
for  our  God."  In  connection  with  the  expectation  of  the  Messiah,  its 
influence  was  immense.  It  was  by  relying  on  its  weight  with  the  people, 
that  Theudas,  a  wild  visionary,  who  assumed  the  part  of  a  prophet  some 
years  after  the  Crucifixion,  persuaded  the  multitudes  to  follow  him,  as  a 
second  Moses,  over  the  Jordan,  to  the  wilderness,  where  he  promised  to 
perform  miracles,  and  assured  them  that  God  would  appear  to  deliver 
His  people.  Josephus  speaks  also  of  others  who  induced  the  people  to  go 
out  with  them  into  the  desert,  "  where,  through  the  help  of  God,  they 
would  work  open  signs  and  wonders,"  and  Jesus  Himself  thought  it 
necessary,  before  leaving  His  disciples,  to  warn  them  that  "  Avhen  it  was 
said  the  Christ  was  in  the  wilderness,  they  were  not  to  go  out  thither." 
The  nation  was  daily  expecting  the  appearance  of  "  the  wise  and  perfect 
prophet,"  who  should  bring  back  the  lost  Urim  and  Thummim,  "restore 
the  trilaes  of  Israel,  turn  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  reprove 
the  times,  and  appease  the  wrath  of  God,  before  it  broke  out  in  fury." 
Since  Ezra's  days  the  feeling  had  grown  even  deeper,  that  repentance 
alone  could  save  Israel.  "  If  we  repented  but  one  day,"  said  the  Eabbis, 
"  the  Messiah  would  appear."  He  was  to  lead  all  meu  back  to  God  by  re- 
pentance. "  As  long  as  Israel  does  not  repent,  it  cannot  expect  the 
Saviour,"  said  Rabbi  Juda.  But  this  repentance  would  not  happen  till 
Elijah  had  come,  in  fulfilment  of  the  prediction  of  Malachi,  and  he  was  not 
to  do  so  till  three  days  before  the  appearance  of  the  Messiah,  when  his 
voice  would  proclaim  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other — "  Salvation 
Cometh  into  the  world." 

A  proiihet,  in  the  Jewish  point  of  view,  was  less  a  seer  than  a  fearless 
preacher,  from  whom,  to  use  the  words  of  Clement  of  Alexandria,  the 
truth  shone  forth,  as  the  light  streams  from  the  sun.  He  might  reveal 
the  future,  but  his  great  characteristic  was,  that  he  was  the  mouthpiece  of 
God,  to  utter,  by  resistless  impulse,  the  rebukes  or  commands  of  the  Al- 
™g^ity,  as  His  ambassador,  and  the  interpreter  of  His  will  to  men.  John 
realized  this  ideal.  He  startled  the  people  by  demanding  repentance,  if 
they  would  escape  the  close  approaching  wrath  of  God.     The  Kingdom  of 


THE    NEW   TROPHET   IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  251 

Heaven — a  plii^ase  familiar  to  them  from  the  language  of  Daniel,  of  the 
Psalms  o£  Solomon,  and  of  other  books  then  in  wide  circulation — was  at 
hand,  and  would  bring  with  it  the  terrors  of  heaven.  The  conscience  of 
the  masses  was  roused.  It  had  sunk  to  sleep  under  Pharisaic  formalism. 
Eoman  oppression,  and  Sadducean  indifference.  John's  voice  sounded 
like  a  trumpet  to  alarm  them.  The  popular  excitement  spread.  Though 
he  kept  aloof  from  Jerusalem  and  the  thickly  peopled  districts,  the  note 
he  had  struck  vibrated  through  the  whole  land.  Crowds  gathered  in  daily 
gi'eater  numljers  from  Jerusalem,  Judea,  and  the  wide  uplands  of  Perca. 
It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  he  were  the  promised  Elias,  the  herald  of  the 
Messiah.  Intensely  real,  he  spoke  nothing  of  Levitical  rites  or  sacrifices, 
or  of  the  Eabbis,  but  demanded  that  the  Law  should  be  applied  to  the 
conscience,  and  carried  out  in  the  life.  A  spiritual  preparation  would 
alone  avert  the  coming  wrath.  A  second  Elijah,  in  spirit  as  well  as  out- 
ward appearance,  and,  like  him,  witnessing  in  evil  times,  he  came  to  throw 
down,  not  to  build ;  to  startle,  not  to  instruct ;  to  use  the  axe,  not  the 
trowel.  The  approach  of  the  judgments  of  vvdiich  the  last  of  the  prophets 
had  spoken, — when  the  indignation  of  God  would  burn  as  an  oven,  and  the 
proud  and  the  T.^icked  should  be  as  stubble,  and  be  burned  up  till  there 
was  left  neither  root  nor  branch, — was  his  great  theme.  He  added,  how- 
ever, the  comforting  assurance  of  the  prophet,  that  to  those  who  feared  the 
name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  should  rise,  with 
healing  in  His  wing-like  beams.  The  whole  strain  of  Malachi  was,  indeed, 
only  an  anticipation  of  John's  preaching.  "  The  Lord,  whom  ye  seek,  even 
the  messenger  of  the  covenant,  whom  ye  delight  in,  shall  come,  saith  the 
Lord  of  Hosts.  But  who  may  abide  the  day  of  His  coming  ?  And  who 
shall  stand  when  He  appeareth  ?  For  He  is  like  a  refiner's  fire,  and  like 
fuller's  soap.  And  He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  silver ;  and  He 
shall  purify  the  sons  of  Levi,  and  purge  them  as  gold  and  silver ;  and  He 
will  be  a  swift  witness  against  the  sorcerers,  and  the  adulterers,  and  the 
false  swearers,  and  against  those  that  oppress  the  hireling  in  his  wages, 
the  widow,  and  the  fatherless,  and  that  turn  aside  the  stranger  from  his 
right,  and  fear  not  Me,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts."  Like  all  the  prophets, 
his  message  was  one  of  wrath,  and  yet,  like  theirs,  it  had  a  conditional 
promise  of  Divine  love  and  pity.  As  befitted  his  office,  he  seemed  ordained, 
like  Elijah,  to  reprove  his  times,  for  like  him,  "  he  was  unmoved  before 
the  face  of  man,  neither  could  any  bring  him  into  subjection." 

With  the  call  to  repent,  John  united  a  significant  rite  for  all  who  were 
willing  to  admit  their  sins,  and  promise  amendment  of  life.  It  was  the 
new  and  striking  requirement  of  baptism,  which  John  had  been  sent  by 
Divine  appointment  to  introduce.  The  Mosaic  ritual  had  indeed  required 
washings,  and  purifications,  but  they  were  mostly  personal  acts  for  cleanse 
ing  from  ceremonial  defilements,  and  were  repeated  as  often  as  new  un- 
cleanncss  demanded.  But  ba]otism  was  performed  only  once,  and  those 
who  sought  it  had  to  receive  it  from  the  hands  of  John.  The  old  rites  and 
requirements  of  the  Pharisees  would  not  content  him.  A  new  symbol  was 
needed,  striking  enough  to  express  the  vastness  of  the  change  he  demanded, 
and  to  form  its  fit  beginning,  and  yet  simple  enough  to  be  easily  aj:)plied 


252  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

to  the  wliole  people  ;  for  all,  alike,  needed  to  break  with  the  past,  and  to 
enter  on  the  life  of  spiritual  effort  he  proclaimed.  Washing  had,  in  all 
ages,  been  used  as  a  religious  symbol,  and  an  impressive  form.  Naaman's 
leprosy  had  been  cleansed  away  in  the  waters  of  the  Jordan.  The  priests 
in  the  Temple  practised  constant  ablutions,  and  others  were  required  daily 
from  the  people  at  large,  to  remove  ceremonial  impurity.  David  had 
prayed,  "  Wash  me  from  mine  iniquity."  Isaiah  had  cried,  "  Wash  ye, 
make  you  clean,  put  away  the  evil  of  your  doings."  Ezekiel  had  told  his 
countrymen,  to  "wash  their  hearts  from  wickedness."  Ablution  in  the 
East,  is  indeed,  of  itself,  almost  a  religious  duty.  The  dust  and  heat 
weigh  upon  the  spirits  and  heart  like  a  load ;  its  removal  is  refreshment 
and  happiness.  It  was,  hence,  impossible  to  see  a  convert  go  down  into  a 
stream,  travel-worn  and  soiled  with  dust,  and,  after  disappearing  for  a 
moment,  emerge  pure  and  fresh,  without  feeling  that  the  symbol  suited 
and  interpreted  a  strong  craving  of  the  human  heart.  It  was  no  formal 
rite  with  John.  "  He  was  a  good  man,"  says  Josephus,  "  and  urged  the 
Jews  who  were  willing  to  live  worthily,  and  to  show  uprightness  one  to 
another,  and  piety  towards  Grod,  to  be  baptized.  For  baj^tism  was  ap- 
proved of  by  him,  not  as  a  means  of  obtaining  pardon  for  some  sins  only, 
but  for  the  purity  of  the  whole  body,  when  the  soul  had  been  cleansed 
beforehand  by  rigliteousness."  On  baptism,  in  itself,  he  set  no  mysterious 
sacramental  value.  It  was  only  water,  a  mere  emblem  of  the  purification 
reqiiired  in  the  life  and  heart,  and  needed  an  after  baptism  by  the  Holy 
Spirit.  No  one  could  receive  it  till  he  had  proved  his  sincerity,  by  a 
humble  public  confession  of  his  sins.  Baptism  then  became  a  moral  vow, 
to  show,  by  a  better  life,  that  the  change  of  heart  was  genuine. 

Bathing  in  Jordan  had  been  a  sacred  symbol,  at  least,  since  the  days  of 
Naaman ;  but  immersion  by  one  like  John,  with  open  and  contrite  sorrow 
for  sin,  sacred  vows  of  atnendraent,  and  hope  of  forgiveness,  if  these 
proved  lasting,  and  all  this  in  preparation  for  the  Messiah,  was  something 
wholly  new  in  Israel.  It  marked,  in  the  most  striking  way,  the  wonderful 
moral  revolution  which  had  taken  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  If,  as 
a  school  of  the  Rabbis  contend,  it  was  even  then  the  custom  to  baptize 
proselytes  on  their  forsaking  heathenism,  and  seeking  admission  to  the 
communion  of  Israel,  the  attitude  of  John  towards  the  nation  was  startling, 
and  their  submission  to  the  rite  a  still  greater  proof  of  his  power  over  the 
popular  mind.  In  this  case,  it  was  no  less  than  the  treatment  of  Israel  as 
if  it  had  become  heathen,  and  needed  to  seek  entrance  again,  on  no  higher 
footing  than  a  Gentile  convert,  to  the  privileges  it  had  lost. 

But  he  did  not  leave  them  to  their  own  imaided  efforts  after  purity. 
Had  he  merely  summoned  them  to  "  flee  from  the  Avrath  to  come,"  he 
would  have  driven  them  to  despair.  Had  he  invited  them  to  baptism,  and 
then  left  them  to  their  own  efforts  after  holiness,  he  would  have  mocked 
them  by  an  impossible  task ;  for  man,  if  he  look  no  higher  than  himself, 
can  never  become  pure.  Avowing  this,  he  gave  moaning  and  promise  to 
his  command  and  invitation,  by  pointing  them  to  the  coming  Messiah,  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  should  take  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 

It  must  have  been  a  strange  scene,  and  it  remained  long  in  the  popular 


THE   NEW   PEOPHET   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  253 

memory.  "  AVliat  went  yo  out  into  the  wilderness  to  see  ?  A  man  clothed 
in  soft  raiment  ?  "  asked  Jesus,  in  later  months.  The  sudden  apparition 
of  a  "  saint,"  whose  life,  for  years,  had  been  spent  in  "  the  house  of  thirst, 
where  demons  and  dragons  howl,"  was  fitted  to  startle  the  whole  com- 
munity, already  excited  to  the  uttermost.  Men  of  all  classes  gathered  to 
listen  to  the  new  prophet.  The  movement,  at  first  local,  gradually  spread 
through  "the  whole  nation."  The  nearer  districts — Jerusalem,  Judea, 
and  Perea — gathered  first.  Ere  long,  the  excitable  Galilceans,  as  far  as 
Lebanon  and  the  East  Jordan  counti-y,  caught  the  enthusiasm,  and  moved 
towards  the  Jordan  valley.  Caravans,  with  their  numerous  beasts,  must 
have  covered  the  Galila;an  and  Jewish  roads,  all  wending  to  the  one  centre. 
Men  left  their  work  or  their  calling  ;  the  keen  trader,  the  Roman  tax- 
collector,  and  the  native  and  foreign  soldier  among  them.  Every  rank 
was  represented.  All  that  was  noble,  and  all  that  was  base  in  Israel ;  the 
holy  and  the  worldly ;  the  pure  and  the  corrupt ;  the  earnest  and  the 
false ;  the  friends  of  Rome  and  its  enemies,  mingled  in  the  throng. 
Supercilious  Rabbis,  long-robed  Pharisees,  cold  and  courtly  Sadducees, 
priestly  dignitaries,  circumspect  Levites,  grey-haired  elders  of  the  people ; 
the  rich  farmer  with  full  barns,  and  the  poor  peasant ;  soldiers  of  the 
Tetrarch  Antipas,  from  Perea ;  perhaps,  also,  proselytes  from  the  Roman 
garrison  at  Jerusalem,  more  disposed  to  accept  baptism  in  the  Jordan 
than  circumcision;  publicans — born  Jews,  but  despised  and  hated,  alike 
for  their  calling  and  their  unjust  exactions —found  themselves  together. 
Israelitish  women,  also,  were  not  wanting,  and  among  them,  not  a  few 
outcasts  of  the  community — servants  of  vice.  All  sought  part  in  the 
salvation  of  Israel,  or  at  least,  wished  to  seem  interested  in  it — even  the 
classes  thrust  back  as  unclean  by  the  Pharisees  and  Essenes.  Some 
longed  to  lay  hold  of  it,  others  came  only  to  look,  criticize,  and  gossiji,  or 
report  to  the  authorities. 

Everything  was  so  new,  so  startling,  so  impressive — the  wilderness,  the 
stream,  the  solemn  hills,  a  prophet  appearing,  after  more  than  five  hundred 
years.  His  right  to  reject  and  denounce  the  whole  present,  in  the  name  of 
God,  was  now,  as  always  with  prophets  in  the  past,  universally  acknow- 
ledged. His  words,  his  baptismal  symbol,  the  kingdom  he  preached,  the 
Messias  whom  he  announced  as  at  hand,  the  very  multitudes  assembled, 
the  visible  emotion,  the  evident  good  effected,  the  contrition  of  the  most 
sunken  classes — the  publicans  and  harlots— all  showed  that  the  whole 
nation  believed  in  him.  From  the  rite  advanced  with  such  prominence,  he 
was  known  as  "the  Baptist,"  but  many  gave  him  the  name  of  Teacher^ 
and  even  that'  of  Prophet.  He  did  not  claim  to  perform  miracles,  like 
Elijah,  but  his  word  had  a  wonderful  power — his  very  baptism  seemed  to 
be  "  from  heaven  " — and,  even  after  his  imprisonment  and  death,  the 
people  maintained,  with  passionate  tenacity,  against  the  petty  carpings  of 
the  priesthood,  that  he  was,  indeed,  a  prophet. 

Many  even  questioned  whether  he  wore  not  the  Messiah,  or  at  least, 
"the  prophet  like  Moses,"  whom  they  expected.  He  swayed  the  masses 
by  his  words,  at  his  will,  and  ruight  have  made  any  political  use  of  them 
he  chose,  had  ho  l)cen  so  minded. 


254  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

As  the  influence  of  the  movement  spread  in  ever-widening  circles  over 
the  nation,  it  became  impossible  for  the  self-sufficient  authorities  at  Jeru- 
salem to  ignore  it.  The  religious  instruction  of  the  peoiole  was  their  pre- 
rogative. They  claimed  to  sit  in  the  seat  of  Moses  and  to  have  the  key  of 
knowledge,  and  it  was  against  the  rule  for  any  one  to  teach  who  had  not 
their  authority,  confirmed  by  formal  ordination.  A  deputation  of  priests 
and  Levites  of  the  Pharisee  party  was,  therefore,  deputed  to  go  to  the 
Jordan,  and  interrogate  this  new  leader  of  the  people  as  to  his  claims. 
Was  he  the  Christ  P  or  was  he  Elias  ?  or  was  he  the  expected  prophet  ? 
Without  a  momentary  hesitation  of  vanity  or  ambition,  from  the  })ossibility, 
with  his  vast  popular  support,  of  2"'hi'yiiig  a  great  part,  his  manly  truthful- 
ness repudiated  the  right  to  any  of  these  names.  With  the  whole  nation 
under  his  influence,  and  regarded  by  them  with  the  reverent  awe  which 
such  questions  and  suggestions  hint,  his  lofty  soul  retained  its  grand 
simplicity.  "  He  was  only  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  make 
straight  the  way  of  the  Lord,  as  saith  the  prophet  Esaias." 

I^or  is  it  wonderful  that  his  mission  had  such  amazing  success.  Men 
honour  a  lofty  and  fearless  soul,  seeking  no  selfish  object,  but  braving  all 
opposition  for  the  noblest  ends.  John  had  nothing  to  lose  but  his  life, 
and  had  no  ambition  but  for  the  faithful  discharge  of  his  high  commission 
from  the  Almighty.  Hunger  and  thirst  and  nakedness  had  been  his 
familiar  friends,  and  he  who  had  faced  the  terrors  of  the  deserts  so  long, 
coiild  have  little  to  alarm  him  in  any  human  anger.  "  What  to  him,"  asks 
Edward  Irving,  "  was  a  scowling  Pharisee,  or  a  mocking  Sadducee,  or  a 
fawning  publican,  or  a  rough  soldier,  or  a  riotous  mob  ?  These  were 
jocund,  cheerful  sights,  to  one  who  had  roamed  amongst  the  wuld  beasts 
of  the  desert,  and  in  the  midst  of  them  laid  down  his  head  under  no 
canopy,  and  with  no  defence  but  the  canopy  and  defence  of  the  providence 
of  the  Most  High.  Around  a  man  who  can  desjiise  accommodations  and 
conveniences,  and  deal  with  nature  in  ancient  simplicity  and  independence, 
and  move  amongst  her  social  and  religious  institutions  like  a  traveller 
from  another  world,  free  to  judge,  and  censure,  and  approve,  as  havinfy 
himself  nothing  at  stake— around  such  a  man  there  is  a  moral  grandeur 
and  authority  to  which  none  but  the  narrowest  and  most  bigoted  minds 
will  refuse  a  certain  awe  and  reverence.  And  when  such  a  personao-e 
assumes  to  himself  Divine  commission,  and  publishes  new  truth  with 
Divine  authority,  and  rebukes  all  wickedness,  and  scorns  all  consequences, 
he  takes,  by  the  natural  right  of  the  wiser,  the  bolder,  and  the  better  man, 
a  high  place  above  those  who  feel  themselves  enslaved  and  enshackled  by 
customs  which  they  despise." 

Such  was  the  mighty  movement  that  filled  all  minds,  and  drew  the 
whole  people,  by  turns,  to  the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  Beside  the  livino- 
waters,  between  the  solemn  hills  on  both  sides,  and  under  the  cloudless 
blue  of  an  Eastern  sky,  stood  the  strange  figure  of  the  prophet  before  his 
no  less  striking  audience.  Like  all  great  leaders,  he  could  read  the 
characters  of  those  he  addressed.  The  smooth  varnished  hypocrisy  of  the 
Pharisee  or  Sadducee  could  not  deceive  him.  Those  who  might  have 
come  to  him  in  the  hope  to  gain  the  inviting  promises  of  the  new  life  by 


THE  NEW  PROPHET  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.       255 

an  easy  lip  confession,  and  a  momentary  rite,  soon  found  their  error. 
Like  Lvxtlier,  or  Latimer,  or  Knox,  lie  forgot  self  in  Ins  grand  fidelity. 
Cold  prudence  or  timid  caution  had  no  place  in  a  soul  so  intensely  iu 
earnest.  The  tkuth,  which  he  comes  to  proclaim,  is  higher  than  man,  and 
alone  commands  his  homage.  His  sentences  strike,  swift  and  glittering, 
like  lightning  flashes,  amidst  the  roll  of  judgment-day  thunders.  Each 
sentence  is  vivid  with  bold  pictures  drawn  from  nature  and  life.  Ho 
compares  Israel  to  a  barren  fruit-tree  ready  for  felling,  and  jDoints  to  the 
axe  already  laid  at  its  roots.  Timely  repentance,  and  the  bringing  forth 
good  fruit,  may  avert  the  stroke,  otherwise  it  must  presently  fall,  and  the 
tree  be  cast  into  the  fire.  The  next  moment  Israel  is  a  great  threshing 
floor,  and  the  winnowing  shovel  is  at  hand  to  cleanse  it  thoroughly,  that 
the  wheat  may  be  gathered  into  the  garner,  and  the  chaff  burned  up  with 
unquenchable  fire.  With  perfect  humility  he  points  all  away  from  himself, 
to  the  Mightier  One  at  hand,  for  whom  he  w^as  unworthy,  in  his  own 
esteem,  to  perform  the  slave  boy's  service  of  unloosing  and  removing  his 
sandals.  He  would  baptize  them  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  fire  — 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  kindle  in  them  heavenly  grace,  if  penitent ;  fire,  to  con- 
sume them,  if  the  reverse.  The  terrors  of  the  day  of  wrath  rolled  over  his 
hearers,  as  his  foremost  thought ;  sounds  of  hope  broke  in,  like  soft  music 
only  at  intervals,  to  keep  the  contrite  from  despair. 

The  announcement  of  Divine  judgments  on  a  rebellious  people  was  by 
no  means  new  in  Israel,  and  of  itself  hardly  explains  the  immense  effect 
of  John's  preaching.  Its  power  lay  in  its  depth  and  its  demands.  The 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  which  was  at  hand,  was  not  a  mere  gift  from  above, 
which  they  might  passively  receive,  but  a  human  work,  which  they  must 
themselves  carry  out.  Merely  to  wait  in  idle  expectancy,  as  in  the  past, 
would  not  suffice.  Nor  would  the  idly-busy  trifling  of  legal  rites  and 
observances.  They  must  no  longer  trust  to  their  descent  from  Abraham, 
nor  to  the  cleansing  of  the  outside  of  the  jilatter  by  Pharisaic  strictness. 
The  coming  of  the  promised  kingdom,  to  each  hearer,  meant  his  lifting  his 
own  life  to  a  higher  plane,  by  steady  resolve  and  effort.  Eeligion  must, 
henceforth,  be  practical  and  earnest :  in  the  heart  and  life,  not  iu  worthless 
outward  forms  or  privileges.  The  great  truth  was  now,  once  more,  pressed 
home  to  the  conscience  of  men  that  the  true  kingdom  of  heaven  is  in  the 
renewed  soul.  It  m-arked  an  era  in  the  moral  history  of  the  world,  and, 
Christ  Himself  has  recognised  its  momentous  greatness.  "Among  them 
that  are  born  of  women,"  said  He,  "  there  has  not  risen  a  greater  than 
John  the  Baptist.  For  all  the  prophets  and  the  Law  prophesied,  until 
John.  Till  then  it  was  future  and  distant ;  the  object  of  eager  expectation 
only.  But,  from  his  days,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  gained  by  earnest 
violence,  and  men  who  struggle  earnestly  take  it  for  themselves."  John 
proclaimed  to  a  generation  that  had  forgotten  it,  the  great  ti'uth  that  "  the 
kingdom."  was  no  mere  extei-nal  blessedness,  but  the  reign  of  God  in  the 
soul  of  man  ;  that  we  must  strive,  if  we  would  enter  into  it,  or,  to  use  the 
figure  employed  by  Jesus,  that— like  a  city  to  be  taken  by  storm, — it  was 
to  be  won  only  by  the  utmost  earnestness.  Repentance,  Avith  John,  was 
no  mere  formal  confession,  but  a  change  of  mind ;  it  included  not  only 


25G  THE  LIFE   OP  ciimsT. 

regret  for  the  past,  but  a  new  life  for  the  future ;  and  this  he  urged  so 
prominently,  that  even  Josephus,  a  generation  afterwards,  makes  it  a  char- 
acteristic of  his  preaching.  To  the  frank  avowal  of  sins  there  was  added 
an  annihilation  of  all  self -righteousness,  whether  resting  on  Abrahamic 
descent  or  attainments  in  Pharisaic  holiness,  and  a  pledge  was  demanded 
of  a  higher  spiritual  life  towards  God  and  man,  involving  life-long  effort. 

His  whole  conception  of  preparation  for  the  Messianic  kingdom  was 
new  in  his  age.  The  Samaritan  prophet,  who  soon  after  summoned  the 
multitudes  to  Gerizim,  relied  on  the  wholly  external  act  of  securing  the 
vessels  of  the  old  Tabernacle,  as  an  inauguration  of  the  day  of  the  Messiah. 
The  Galilasans  were  disposed  to  demand  the  kingdom  from  the  Romans, 
sword  in  hand,  in  the  belief  that  Jehovah  would  not  desert  His  people,  iu 
arms  for  His  cause.  John,  on  the  contrary,  sought  to  jirepare  for  it  by  a 
moral  regeneration  of  the  community.  The  kingdom  of  God,  with  him, 
was,  like  that  of  Isaiah,  a  kingdom  of  righteousness  and  holiness.  He  had 
sat  at  the  feet  of  the  prophets,  not  of  the  Eabbis.  He  had  sought  the 
knowledge  of  the  preparation  needed,  not,  like  the  Eabbis,  from  the  Book 
of  Leviticus ;  not,  like  the  Zealots,  from  the  warlike  records  of  the  Macca- 
bees ;  nor,  like  the  Essenes,  from  mystic  revelations  ;  but  from  Isaiah. 
His  whole  preaching  was  only  a  variation  of  that  of  the  great  prophet,  iu 
the  opening  of  his  book — "  Wash  you,  make  you  clean  ;  put  away  the  evil 
of  your  doings  from  before  Mine  eyes  ;  cease  to  do  evil,  learn  to  do  well : 
seek  judgment,  relieve  the  oppressed,  judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the 
widow."  He  says  nothing  of  an  earthly  kingdom,  or  political  glory.  The 
sins  that  had  separated  between  them  and  God  must  be  removed,  and  their 
place  filled  with  "  fruits  meet  for  reiDcntance,"  if  the  Divine  kingdom  was 
to  be  establised  among  them.  Pharisees  and  Essenes  had  sought  to  pro- 
pitiate God  by  their  legal  rites.  Neither  knew  of  confession  of  sins,  or 
repentance.  The  Pharisee  only  boasted  of  his  virtues,  and  the  Essenes 
praised  righteousness,  without  a  word  about  penitence.  John  trusted,  not 
to  external  forms,  but  to  broken-hearted  contrition.  Man  must  work  to- 
gether with  God  to  bring  about  the  fulfilment  of  the  prophecies  of  the 
Messiah's  reign. 

Nor  did  he  content  himself  with  vague  or  general  appeals  or  reproofs. 
"  Ye  brood  of  vipers,"  cried  he  to  a  ci'owd  of  Pharisees  and  Sadducees, 
who  had  come  to  his  baptism,  to  scoff  and  criticise,  rather  than  to  confess 
and  repent,  and  who  opposed  him  with  the  conservatism  of  lawyers  and 
the  bigotry  of  priests, — "who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come  ?  "  In  the  words  of  St.  Luke,  "  they  rejected  the  counsel  of  God 
towards  themselves,  not  having  been  baptized  by  John,"  and,  so  far  from 
accepting  his  mission,  denounced  him  as  having  a  devil.  He  brushed  them 
aside,  with  their  endless  quiddities  and  quillets,  and  casuistical  cases,  and 
legal  cobwebbery,  and  they  hated  him  in  return.  They  had  come  from 
Jerusalem  in  full-blown  official  dignity,  as  a  deputation  from  the  ecclesi- 
astical courts,  to  ask  his  credentials,  and  test  his  soundness.  But  whether 
priests,  or  Levites,  or  Eabbis,  they  shrivelled  before  the  indignant  glance 
and  fiery  words  which  exposed  their  insincerity  and  incompetence.  John 
held  his  authority,  not  from  them,  but  from  a  higher  court !     Instead  of 


THE    NEW   PROPHET   IN    THE    WILDERNESS.  257 

flattering  them,  lie  told  tliem,  as  he  had  told  the  crowds  they  despised, 
that  they  must  bring  forth  fruits  woi'thy  of  repentance.     In  their  narrow 
pedantic  pride  they  felt  sure  of  a  part  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah 
simply  as  descendants  of  Abraham ;  his  righteousness  being  reckoned  as 
theirs.     Israel,  alone,  could  jolease  or  find  favour  with  God,  and  it  did  so 
on  the  footing  of  its  descent.      The  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven "  was  to  be 
strictly  Jewish,  all  other  nations  being  excluded,  and  "  it  was  Jewish  by 
hereditary  right."    But  John  shattered  this  wretched  immorality.    "  Begin    ^ 
not  to  say  within  yourselves,  we  have  Abraham  for  father  :  for  I  say  unto     i 
you,  that  God  is  able  of  these  stones  of  the  desert,  lying  countless  around,     \ 
to  raise  up  true  children  to  Abraham,  and  will  exclude  you,  his  pretended 
children,  from  the  kingdom,  unless  you  repent !  "     The  stern,  fearless 
words  of  the  old  ijroiihets,  which  made  them  to  be  hated  by  the  multitude, 
with  the  exception  of  Daniel,  the  prophet  of  pleasant  things,  fell  once  more 
from  the  lips  of  John,  with  the  same  result,  at  least  on  the  part  of  the 
Babbis.    They  received  homage  from  all  others,  but  this  man  treated  them 
with  withering  scorn.     They  had  fancied  he  would  be  like  a  reed  moved 
in  the  wind  before  them,  but  they  had  found  him  an  oak.     Flattery  and 
fear  were  as  strange  to  his  soul  as  his  own  rough  mantle  would  have  been 
among  the  soft  clothing  of  kings'  palaces. 

The  contrast  between  John's  teaching  and  that  of  the  Eabbis,  could 
have  had  no  more  striking  illustration  than  his  recorded  answers  to  various 
inquirers,  whom  his  stern  language  to  their  religious  leaders  had,  ap- 
parently, alarmed.  If  the  Eabbis  were  in  danger  of  the  fire,  what  must 
be  required  of  common  men.?  But  no  harshness  marked  his  words  to 
honest  anxiety.  He  demanded  simply  that  they  show  their  sincerity  by 
their  unselfishness.  They  were  to  act  on  their  professions  of  desire  to  lead 
a  new  life.  "  He  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him  impart  to  him  that  hath 
none  ;  and  he  that  hath  meat,  let  him  do  likewise."  If  they  ministered  to 
the  naked  and  hungry,  as  a  loving  duty,  they  proved  their  discipleship 
genuine.  John's  wide  human  sympathies  embraced  all  classes.  Like 
Jesus,  he  cast  out  none  who  came  to  him.  The  abhorred  publicans,  from 
whom  the  Pharisees  shrank  as  accursed,  were  cheered  by  the  assurance 
that  they,  too,  might  share  in  the  kingdom,  if  their  repentance  were  sincere. 
"Exact  no  more,"  said  the  prophet,  "than  that  which  is  appointed  you." 
Even  the  soldiers  were  welcome,  and  had  a  fitting  counsel — "  Do  violence 
to  no  man,  neither  accuse  any  falsely,  and  be  content  with  your  wages." 
That  the  publican  should  do  his  duty  honestly,  as  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
that  the  soldier  should  deny  himself  the  license  of  his  calling,  and  be 
faithful  to  his  standard,  from  a  sense  of  obligation  before  God,  were 
practical  tests  of  loyalty  to  conscience,  which  would  carry  with  them  the 
Divine  favour.  In  all  cases,  moral  regeneration  was  the  grand  aim,  and 
the  man  himself  must  work  to  carry  out  the  reformation. 

But,  while  John  thus  demanded  practical  results,  by  human  effort,  he 
was  far  from  teaching  that  the  most  earnest  wish  to  change  the  life,  would 
of  itself  suffice.  He  brought  the  hope  of  forgiveness  in  the  day  of  the 
wrath  of  God  to  bear  on  all  classes,  and  made  them  feel  that  salvation 
could  not  come,  after  all,  from  their  own  acts,  though  these  must  be  reu- 

s 


258  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

dered,  but  only  Ijy  pardou  from  God.  He  proclaimed,  besides,  the  need 
of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  perfect  the  inner  revolution.  "  He  that  cometh 
after  me  Avill  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  with  fire,"  For  the 
hardened  there  would,  indeed,  be  a  baptism  of  fire,  but,  for  the  contrite, 
the  heavenly  gift  of  a  higher  will,  and  a  greater  power,  a  deeper  knowledge 
of  God,  and  a  closer  communion  with  Him.  Feeling  the  want  of  the 
times,  and  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the  prophets,  he  could  not  forget  how 
they  had  announced,  as  a  sign  of  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  that  Jehovah 
'•' would  pour  out  His  spirit  upon  all  flesh,"  "that  He  would  pour  water 
upon  him  that  was  thirsty,  and  floods  on  the  dry  ground,"  and  "  His  spirit 
upon  the  offspring  of  Jacob."  He  could  not  doul:)t,  therefore,  that  He, 
before  whom  he  was  only  a  herald's  voice, — the  Mighty  One,  whose  sandals 
it  was  too  great  an  honour  for  him  to  unloose, — would  come,  not  only  to 
avenge,  but  to  bless.  But,  to  do  this,  He  must  bring  with  Him  a  higher, 
quickening  spiritual  power—the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  In  the  bestowal 
of  this  heavenly  influence,  to  carry  out  the  new  creation,  begun  by  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,  was  summed  up  John's  message  to  his  age. 

It  was  a  mark  of  the  surprising  greatness  of  John's  whole  spiritual 
nature,  that  he  had  realized  the  need  of  action  on  the  part  of  man,  to 
secure  the  fulfilment  of  the  Divine  promise  of  the  kingdom ;  but  it  was 
no  less  so,  that  he  realized  the  limitations  of  liuman  effort,  and  jiroclaimed 
the  necessity  of  a  Divine,  new-creating  power,  to  secure  the  holy  transfor- 
mation of  the  will  and  heart.  To  be  real  and  earnest  in  such  an  age,  to 
unveil  its  true  spiritual  wants,  to  wake  it  to  new  religious  life,  were 
transcendent  merits,  but  it  is  even  grander  to  see  the  mighty  man — full  of 
humility,  with  deep  self-knowledge,  and  insight  into  his  fellow-men — jioint- 
ing  to  God  in  heaven,  who,  stronger  than  human  will  or  effort,  alone  could 
break  the  chains  of  sin  from  the  soul,  and  lead  it  to  the  light. 

Wholly  self-oblivious,  tainted  by  no  stain  of  human  pride,  self-conscious- 
ness, or  low  ambition,  John  had  felt  it  no  usurpation,  or  sacrilegious 
assumption,  to  constitute  himself  "  the  messenger,"  predicted  by  Malachi, 
"  sent  to  prepare  the  way  before  the  Lord."  ISTor  was  his  preaching  more 
than  an  expansion  of  the  prophet's  words— that  "  the  Lord,  whom  ye  seek, 
shall  suddenly  come  to  His  Temple,  even  the  messenger  of  the  covenant, 
whom  ye  delight  in."  He  had  received  the  commission  from  no  human 
lips,  but  had  been  sot  apart  to  it,  from  above,  Ijcfore  his  birth.  Filled  with 
the  grandeur  of  his  mission,  nothing  arrested  him,  or  turned  him  aside. 
The  crowds  saw  in  him  the  most  unbending  strength,  united  with  the 
most  complete  self-sacrifice ;  a  type  of  grand  fidelity  to  God  and  His  truth, 
and  of  the  lowliest  self-denial.  The  sorrows  and  hopes  of  Israel  seemed 
to  shine  out  from  his  eyes — bright  with  the  inspiration  of  his  soul,  but 
sad  with  the  greatness  of  his  work— as  he  summoned  the  crowds  to  re- 
pentance, alarmed  them  by  words  of  terror,  or  led  them,  in  groups,  to  the 
Jordan,  and  immersed  each  singly  in  the  waters,  after  earnest  and  full 
confession  of  their  sins.  The  newly  baptized  knelt  in  prayer  along  the 
banks ;  many,  doubtless,  with  tears,  loud  sighs,  and  exclamations,  as  is 
still  the  manner  with  the  emotional  races  of  the  East,  even  when  far  less 
excited  than  John's  hearers  must  have  been.     All  wished  to  begin  a  new 


THE  NEW  PROPHET  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.        259 

life,  and  craved  counsel  from  one  in  -^-honi  they  now  implicitly  believed, 
and  each,  in  turn— publican,  soldier,  citizen,  and  open  sinner— heard  a  few 
words  which  pointed  out  to  them  their  future  safety.  The  narrow  sepa- 
ratism and  worthless  externalism  of  the  Law  were  to  be  forsaken,  and 
love  to  God  and  their  neighbour,  with  a  future  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
by  Him  who  was  to  come,  were  to  take  their  place. 

But  John,  with  all  his  grandeur,  was  still  a  Jew.  Wliat  his  conceptions 
of  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  were,  beyond  his  realization  of  its  purity,  wo 
have  few  grounds  of  judging.  From  an  after  incident  in  his  life,  it  would 
seem  that  he  thought  of  it  as  the  restoration  of  the  theocracy,  amidst  a 
people  prepared  for  it  by  repentance  and  moral  reformation.  It  would  be 
to  set  him  above  his  times,  and  even  above  the  Apostles,  as  they  remained 
during  the  whole  lifetime  of  their  Master,  to  conceive  him  as  anticipating 
the  jnirely  si:5iritiial  kingdom  Jesus  was  to  establish.  He  was  greater  than 
all  tire  prophets,  in  his  magnificent  faith  that  the  work  he  had  begun  would 
be  carried  out  by  Jehovah  Himself,  through  His  Messiah,  and  in  his  clear 
sense  of  the  need  of  human  action,  in  repentance  and  a  new  life,  to  the 
establishment  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom.  Others  had  left  God  to  do  all 
at  some  future  time,  limiting  themselves  to  prophecy.  John  alone  taught 
that  the  kingdom  of  God  had  already  come  in  the  contrite  soul  which 
proved  its  penitence  by  holy  fruits.  But  he  was  also  less  than  the  least  in 
that  kingdom,  in  his  inadequate  realization  of  it  in  its  full  greatness.  He 
"came  neither  eating  nor  drinking," — a  type  of  Jewish  asceticism — and  his 
teaching  bore,  throughout,  the  true  Jewish  stamp.  Perhaps  he  rose  above 
the  thought,  universal  in  his  day,  that  the  outer  act  had,  in  itself,  an  in 
trinsic  worth,  if  not  even  a  spiritual  power,  but  the  importance  he  attached 
to  outward  expressions  of  penitence  was  entirely  Jewish.  Like  the  Rabbis, 
he  laid  stress  on  fasting,  and  on  the  "  making  joraycrs,"  in  the  Jewish 
sense,  and  his  disciples,  in  those  and  other  extei'nal  exercises  of  religion, 
found  themselves  nearer  the  disciples  of  the  Pharisees  than  they  were  to 
those  of  Jesus.  As  a  Nazarite  and  an  ascetic,  the  dread  of  defilement 
must  have  kept  him  apart  from  the  great  mass  of  his  audience,  for  he 
dared  not  touch  any  but  '"'  the  clean,"  even  in  baptizing  them. 

In  this  aspect  of  it,  the  work  of  John  was,  in  the  eyes  of  Christ,  only  the 
sewing  a  new  patch  on  an  old  garment,  or  putting  new  -wine  into  old 
bottles.  Tlie  great  movement  he  set  on  foot,  while  an  immense  advance  on 
the  past  in  Judaism,  was  ^''ct,  in  its  essence,  Jewish.  The  ascetic  spirit  of 
its  origin  perpetuated  itself  in  John's  disciples,  and  marked  his  whole 
conceptions  as  imperfect  and  passing — the  morning  red  heralding  tho 
day,  but  as  yet  mingled  with  the  night. 

John  formed  no  separate  communion.  He  taught  his  disciples  to  pray, 
and  it  would  seem  as  if  he  had  ultimately  gathered  a  special  band  round 
him,  as  the  Apostles  were  gathered  round  Jesus.  But  he  did  not  come  to 
found  a  new  sect.  His  far  grander  aim  was  to  raise  the  nation  from 
sijiritual  death,  and  direct  it  to  the  Messiah  now  at  hand. 


260  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   BAPTISM   OF   JESrS   AND   THE   DEATH    OF   JOHN. 

THE  great  wave  of  religioiis  excitement  produced  by  tlie  preaching  of 
John  had  set  the  whole  land  in  motion.  Eoulque  de  Xouilly,  the 
famous  monkish  preacher  of  the  thirteenth  century,  whose  discourses 
moved  all  classes  of  society,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  so  that  people 
rushed  in  crowds  from  distant  countries  to  hear  him,  or  Whitefield,  in  the 
last  century,  who  stirred  the  whole  nation  in  his  day,  help  us  to  realize  the 
sensation  produced  by  John's  ministrations.  To  a  people  sunk  for  the  time 
in  religious  apathy,  and  corrupted  in  morals,  but  loyal  to  the  voice  of  their 
Scriptures  and  the  lofty  spiritual  ideals  of  the  past,  his  voice  came  like  a 
trumjiet,  rousing  them  to  new  life.  His  bronzed,  wasted  features,  his 
prophet's  dress  and  bearing,  his  fearless  boldness  for  God,  and  the  response 
of  their  own  hearts  to  his  denunciations  and  demands,  made  him  a  mighty 
power.  He  gave  utterance  to  their  deepest  desires  and  aspirations,  fanned 
their  national  hopes,  and  roused  their  enthusiasm.  As  a  people,  they  were 
not  in  favour  of  asceticism.  The  Rabbis  had  a  saying,  that  the  ignorant 
did  not  know  how  to  keep  themselves  from  transgressions  of  the  Law,  nor 
the  common  people  how  to  become  "  the  Pious,"  or  rigorous  Jews.  Even 
one  so  famous  as  Simeon  the  Just  discountenanced  ISTazarite  vows,  with 
the  rigid  abstinence  and  self-denial  they  imposed.  The  worldly  Sadducee 
laughed  at  the  austerities  of  the  Rabbis,  "  who  tormented  themselves  in 
this  life  without  gaining  anything  by  it  in  the  other,"  and  the  mass  of  the 
people  were  no  doubt  of  their  mind.  But  the  vision  of  a  true  Nazarite,  in 
whom  all  could  see  a  grand  superiority  of  the  worthless  ambitions  of  life, 
was  like  a  revelation  of  eternal  realities,  which  no  one  could  turn  lightly 
aside.  The  very  power  of  his  words  seemed  to  prove  the  truth  of  his 
warnings,  for  the  Rabbis  had  already  told  them  that  "  universal  repent- 
ance," such  as  they  seemed  to  see  round  them,  "  would  only  happen  when 
Elias  had  come,"  and  his  coming  was  the  sure  sign  of  the  approach  of  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

Everything  was  fitted  to  startle.  The  proclamation  of  the  Messiah  as 
at  hand — the  call  to  repentance— the  announcement  of  the  swift  rolling 
towards  them  of  the  thunders  of  the  wrath  of  God— the  declared  worthless- 
ness  of  distinctions  of  race,  blood,  or  position— the  demand  for  fruits  meet 
for  repentance,  or,  in  other  words,  that  a  man  must  work  out  his  own 
salvation  in  co-operation  with  God— the  sjTubolical  rite  to  which  he  re- 
quired submission,  and  the  humbling  confession  of  sin  before  the  world, 
which  he  added— all  combined  to  carry  his  name  and  work  to  the  utmost 
limits  of  the  land. 

Meanwhile,  the  authorities  at  Jerusalem,  with  the  jealousy  of  all  eccle- 
siastical bodies  towards  those  outside  their  own  pale,  grew  uneasy  at  his 
success,  and  plotted  to  get  him  into  their  toils,  as  they  did  afterwards  in 
the  case  of  our  Lord.  The  ensnaring  questions  put  to  him  by  the  deputa- 
tion of  priestly  Pharisees  sent  from  Jerusalem,  seemed  to  have  made  John 
thmk  it  necessary  to  seek  safety  by  removing  beyond  the  bounds  of  Judea- 


THE    BAPTISM    OF   JESUS   AND    THE    DEATH   OF   JOHN.        2G1 

From  the  "  circle  of  Jordan,"  including  Ijoth  sides  of  the  stream,  he  passed 
upwards,  apparently,  to  the  small  sunken  plain  which  borders  it,  just 
beneath  Scythopolis,  where  Gideon's  Brook  of  Trembling  makes  its  steep 
way  from  the  eastern  end  of  Esdraelon,  down  the  Wady  Jalud,  to  the 
Jordan.  He  chose  a  spot  near  this,  on  the  eastern  side,  known  in  those 
days  as  Bethabara,  where  a  ford  crossed  the  river,  and  gave  facilities  for 
baptism.  He  had  been  preaching  and  baptizing  for  some  time  in  the 
south,  and  his  removal  to  a  more  northern  position  opened  a  new  field, 
from  its  nearness  to  Galilee.  The  excitement  still  continued  as  gi-cat  as 
ever.  The  towns  on  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  and  even  the  villages  north  of 
Esdraelon,  poured  forth  to  the  new  prophet.  Weeks  passed,  and  it  must 
now  have  been  the  late  summer,  for,  before  long,  John  had  to  leave  the 
Jordan,  as  too  shallow,  at  its  accessible  parts,  for  baptism,  and  go  to 
another  place — Enon,  near  Salem — an  unknown  locality,  where  pools  more 
suitable  were  still  to  be  had.  But,  as  yet,  there  was  no  sign  of  the  advent 
of  the  expected  ]\Ie3siah.  The  assembling  of  the  nation,  and  the  great 
work  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  were  necessary  preliminaries,  in  the 
Di\  ine  counsels,  to  dignify  the  ultimate  Advent  of  the  Redeemer. 

Jesus  had  been  waiting  the  fit  moment  for  leaving  His  thirty  years' 
obscurity  in  K'azareth,  and  presenting  Himself  before  the  herald  who  had 
been  unconsciously  proclaiming  Him.  Though  cousins,  the  Bajitist  and 
the  Son  of  Mary  had  never  seen  each  other,  for  they  lived  at  oi:)posite  ends 
of  the  country,  and  John  had  spent  we  do  not  know  how  many  years  of  his 
life  in  hermit  seclusion,  far  from  man.  But  if  he  did  not  know  His  person, 
he  had  yet,  doubtless,  heard  the  wondrous  circumstances  attending  His 
birth,  and  must  have  been  daily  expecting  Him  to  put  forth  His  claims. 
At  last,  Jesus  left  ISTazareth  and  came  to  Jordan,  and  presented  Himself 
before  him.  His  appearance,  wholly  different  from  that  of  all  who  had 
thronged  to  his  ministry,  at  once  arrested  the  prophet's  eye.  The  holy 
devotion  and  heavenly  repose  which  marked  Him  as  He  stood  in  prayer, 
spoke  of  a  purity  and  greatness  before  which  the  soul  of  John  did  instant 
reverence.  He  might  have  stern  words  for  the  proud  and  self-righteous, 
but,  in  the  presence  of  such  a  vision  as  that  before  him,  he  has  only  those 
of  lowliest  homage.  The  light,  as  of  other  worlds,  shining  from  the  depth 
of  those  calm  eyes  ;  the  radiance  of  a  soul  free  from  all  stain  of  sin,  trans- 
figuring the  pale  face — full,  at  once,  of  highest  beauty,  tenderest  love,  and 
deepest  sadness,  was  hereafter,  even  wdien  dimly  seen  by  the  light  of  mid- 
night torches  and  lanterns,  to  make  accusers  shrink  backwards  and  fall, 
overcome,  to  the  gi-ound,  and  Simon  Peter  pray — "  Depart  from  me,  for  I 
am  a  shiful  man,  0  Lord !  "  The  soul  has  an  instinctive  recognition  of 
goodness,  and  feels  its  awfulness.  Spiritual  greatness  wears  a  kingly 
crown  which  compels  instant  reverence.  Had  Jesus  been  an  earthly  king, 
John  would  have  remained  the  stem,  fearless  prophet ;  had  He  been  the 
highest  of  the  earthly  priesthood,  he  would  have  borne  himself  as  a 
superior,  in  the  consciousness  of  his  high  mission.  But  the  royalty  before 
him  was  not  of  this  world,  and  the  priesthood  was  higher  than  that  of 
Aaron.  Jesus  had  come  to  be  baptized,  but  John,  for  the  first  and  last 
time,  with  any  one  in  all  the  crowds  that  had  gathered  round  him,  hesi- 


262  THE    LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

tated,  and  drew  back.  "  I  have  need  to  be  baptized  of  Tliee,"  said  he, 
"  and  comest  Thou  to  me  ?  "  He  might  not  know  by  name,  or  open  in- 
timation, whom  he  had  before  him,  but  unerring  instinct  taught  him  that 
he  addressed  a  greater  than  himself.  He  was  longing  for  the  revelation 
of  the  Messiah,  and  knew  that  God  could  manifest  Him  at  any  moment, 
clothing  Him  whom  He  had  designated  for  the  high  dignity,  with  Divine 
might  to  carry  out  His  work.  It  is,  indeed,  the  especial  greatness  of  the 
Baptist  that  he  not  only  rose  to  the  level  of  so  great  an  enterprise  as  the 
spiritual  regeneration  of  his  country,  and  devoted  himself  to  it  with 
gigantic  energy,  and  that  he  was  a  man  of  spotless  truth  and  dauntless 
courage,  but  that,  with  all  this,  he  was  filled  with  a  splendid  enthusiasm, 
and  unfalterins:  faith  in  the  nearness  of  the  Messiah.  This  alone  could 
have  supported  him  under  the  burden  of  his  work.  ISTo  one,  till  then,  had 
stood,  like  him,  between  the  dead  past  and  the  dimly  rising  future,  in 
hopeful  and  confident  expectation.  He  had  led  the  people  from  the  cor- 
ruption, wickedness,  and  confusion  of  tlieir  decayed  religiousness,  and 
stood  calmly  and  grandly  at  their  head,  in  the  firm  belief  that  the  Messiah, 
who,  only,  could  fulfil  the  promises  he  had  made  them,  of  Divine  help  to- 
wards a  higher  life,  would  emerge  from  the  darkness  before  him.  In  such 
an  attitude  of  intensest  expectancy,  he  must  at  once  have  recognised  the 
marks  of  the  possible  Messiah  in  any  one  who  showed  them.  He  might 
look  for  no  outward  signs  :  the  Divine  lineaments  of  a  nature  fit  for  such 
an  office  would  suffice,  the  future  being  left  to  God,  to  whom  he  entrusted 
his  own  work.  He  would  not  go  abroad  to  search  for  one  who  might  be 
what  he  desired,  but  his  ardent,  yet  keen  soul,  could  not  fail  to  discover 
Him  if  He  came  within  his  sphere.  Hence,  he  felt,  instinctively  that  in 
Jesus  the  object  of  his  longings  seemed  to  have  been  found.  "  I  knew 
Him  not,"  said  he,  some  time  later,  "  and  had  not  in  any  measiire  begun 
my  work  because  I  knew  Him,  or  that  He  might  at  my  request  come  to 
me ;  but  I  have  been  baptizing  and  rousing  Israel,  that  He,  though  un- 
known to  me, — drawn  indeed  by  my  work,  but  without  design  or  thought 
on  my  part,  and,  therefore,  only  by  the  clear  leading  and  purpose  of  God, 
— should  be  revealed  to  Israel  as  the  true  Messiah."  He  had,  already,  be- 
fore Jesus  had  presented  Himself,  made  known  his  firm  conviction  that  God 
had  heard  the  cry  of  His  people,  and  had  provided  the  Messiah,  though  as 
yet  He  had  not  disclosed  Him.  In  his  grand  trust  in  God,  he  had  told 
the  multitudes,  "  there  standeth  one  among  you,  whom  you  know  not — the 
true  Messiah,"  who  has  been  among  you,  and  you  have  not  dreamed  of  it, 
because  you  knew  neither  the  marks  nor  nature  of  God's  Anointed,  and, 
indeed,  you  will  not  recognise  Him,  even  when  He  appears.  That  ye  may 
know  Him,  He  is  He  who  cometh  after  me,  and  yet  shall  be  preferred 
before  me — the  true  Messiah,  whose  shoes  I  am  not  worthy  to  unloose. 
He  shall  be  preferred  before  me,/o9'  He  was  before  vie.  He  is  no  man  of 
moi'tal  birth,  for  Scripture  and  Eabbi  unite  in  recognising  the  Messiah  as 
the  uncreated  Word  of  God,  sent  down  from  heaven,  to  dwell  for  a  time 
among  men."  John's  long  communion  with  God  in  the  wilderness,  his 
prayers  a.nd  tears,  had  raised  him  to  a  spiritual  grandeur  v/hich  antici- 
pated, with  a  higher  than  human  sense,  the  yet  uurevealed.     Lifted  above 


THE   BAPTISM   OF  JESUS   AND   THE   DEATH   OF   JOHN.       263 

eartli,  tlie  advent  of  the  Messiah  liad  become  to  him  a  living  truth,  which 
only  -waited  God's  time  for  its  disclosure,  and  at  last  stood  visibly  before 
him,  in  the  Holy  One  who  sought  baptism  at  his  hands. 

No  wonder  he  shrank  from  assuming  to  such  a  Being  the  relation  in 
which  he  stood  to  other  men.  He  knew  that  only  one  who  was  wholly 
free  from  sin  could  be  the  Messiah,  and  such  an  One  he  felt  was  before 
him.  The  meekness,  gentleness,  and  purity,  which  overawed  him,  spoke 
of  nothing  less,  and  the  heart  of  John,  on  the  instant,  could  express  its 
overpowering  emotion  in  no  more  fitting  thought  than  that  he  "  beheld 
the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  In  such  words  \ 
he  embodied  a  conception  which  he  had  heard  from  the  Eabbis  since  his 
childhood,  for  the  daily  sacrifice,  on  whose  head  the  sins  of  Israel  were 
laid  by  a  foi'mal  act,  was  their  favourite  type  of  the  Messiah,  who  was  ^ 
hence  known  by  the  endearing  name  of  the  "  Lamb  of  God."  The  sublime 
picture  in  Isaiah  of  Him  on  whom  Jehovah  had  laid  the  iniquities  of  His 
people,  and  who  was  led  as  a  Lamb  to  the  slaughter,  had  already  been 
applied  to  the  Messiah,  and  John  might  w'ell  think  of  Him  in  this  His 
highest  aspect, —  oppressed  in  soul,  as  he  himself  was,  by  the  weight  of  the 
sins  of  his  race. 

The  hesitation  of  the  Baptist,  however,  was  not  allowed  to  prevail,  for 
Jesus  still  repeated  His  desire  to  be  baptized.  "  Suffer  it  now,"  said  He, 
"  for  thus  it  becomes  us  to  fulfil  all  righteousness.  From  whatever  God 
has  required  of  Israel  as  a  duty,  I  cannot  withhold  myself."  Baptism  was 
an  ordinance  of  God,  required  by  His  prophet  as  the  introduction  of  the 
new  dispensation.  It  was  a  part  of  "  righteousness,"  that  is,  it  was  a  part 
of  God's  commandments,  which  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  show  us  the  ■ 
example  of  fulfilling,  both  in  the  letter  and  the  spirit.  Moreover,  He  had 
not  yet  received  the  consecration  of  the  Spirit,  abiding  on  Him,  and  had 
not  yet  assumed  the  awful  dignity  of  the  Messiah,  but  had  hitherto  been 
only  the  unknown  villager  of  Nazareth.  No  subject  is  more  mysterious 
than  the  "  increase  in  wdsdom  "  which  marked  the  Saviour,  as  it  does  all 
other  men,  nor  can  we  conjecture  when  it  was  that  the  full  realization  of 
His  Divine  mission  first  rose  before  Him.  As  yet  there  had  been  no  indi- 
cation of  its  having  done  so,  for  He  had  not  yet  "  manifested  His  glory," 
or  appeared  at  all  before  men.  Is  it  too  much  to  believe  that  His  baptism  [ 
was  the  formal  consecration,  which  marked  His  entrance  on  His  great  \ 
office? 

John  resisted  no  longer,  and  leading  Jesus  into  the  stream,  the  rite  was 
performed.  Can  we  question  that  such  an  act  was  a  crisis  in  the  life  of 
our  Lord  ?  His  perfect  manhood,  like  that  of  all  other  men,  in  all  things 
except  sin,  forbids  our  doubting  it.  Holy  and  pure  before  sinking  under  \  j  ^ 
the  waters.  He  must  yet  have  risen  from  them  with  the  light  of  a  higher 
glory  in  His  countenance.  His  past  life  Avas  closed  ;  a  new  era  had 
opened.  Hitherto  the  humble  villager,  veiled  from  the  world.  He  was 
henceforth  the  Messiah,  openly  working  amongst  men.  It  was  the  true 
moment  of  the  opening  of  His  new  life.  Past  years  had  been  buried  in  \  \ 
the  waters  of  Jordan.  He  entered  them  as  Jesus,  the  Son  of  Man  ;  He 
rose  from  them,  The  Christ  of  God. 


264  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Nor  is  it  wondei'ful  that,  at  a  moment  when  He  was  passing  through 
such  a  supreme  spiritual  crisis,  there  should  have  been  sympatliy  with  it 
in  the  distant  regions  of  the  Universe.  "  Being  baptized,"  says  St.  Luke, 
"  and  praying  " — in  the  overpowering  emotion  of  sucli  a  time— the  heaven 
was  opened— all  hindrances  of  human  weakness  withdrawing,  so  that 
the  eye  seemed  to  pierce  the  sky,  to  the  far  off  heavenly  splendours.  And 
now  a  vision  as  of  the  Holy  Gliost  descending  in  the  "  bodily  form"  of  a 
dove,  the  symbol  of  purity  and  peace,  and  resting  over  the  newly  baptized 
as  in  permanent  consecration,  revealed  itself  to  John  and  Jesus  ;  a  heavenly 
voice,  meanwhile,  proclaiming,  "  This  is  My  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am 
well  pleased."  Isaiah  had,  long  before,  foretold  how  the  Spirit  of  Jehovah 
should  rest  upon  the  Branch  from  the  roots  of  Jesse — the  Spirit  of  wisdom 
and  understanding,  the  Spirit  of  counsel  and  might,  the  Spirit  of  know- 
ledge, and  of  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  the  prediction  Vv^as  now  fulfilled.  It 
was  the  Divine  anointing  of  Jesus,  to  preach  good  tidings  to  the  meek,  to 
bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the 
opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound,  to  proclaim  the  acceptable 
year  of  the  Lord,  and  the  day  of  vengeance  of  God — the  consecration  from 
on  High  to  the  office  of  Messiah,  and,  as  such,  the  true  birth-hour  of 
Christianity.  It  was  His  solemn  designation  as  the  Great  High  Priest  of 
the  new  and  abiding  Dispensation.  The  sons  of  Aaron  were  required  by 
the  Levitical  Law  to  be  set  apart  to  their  high  office  by  washing  and 
anointing,  and  He  who  was  to  be  clothed  with  an  infinitely  loftier  priest- 
hood, could  not  be  allowed  to  want  a  correspondingly  grander  inaugura- 
tion. Instead  of  the  Tcmjile  made  with  hands.  He  had  around  Him  the 
great  Temple  of  nature ;  for  the  brazen  laver  He  had  the  flowing  river, 
reflecting  the  vault  of  heaven.  If  He  had  no  golden  robes,  He  had  the 
robe  of  a  sinless  righteousness,  and  if  there  were  no  sacred  oil,  He  had, 
instead,  the  anointing  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  John  had  already,  by  Divine 
intimation,  learned  that  the  Spirit  should  thus  descend  on  Him  who  was 
to  baptize  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  thus  saw  the  confirmation  of  his  belief 
that  Jesus  was,  indeed,  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  His  Son.  How  long  He 
remained  with  John  is  not  told  us,  but  it  would  seem  as  if  He  had  forth- 
with retired  to  the  wilderness,  to  return  only  after  His  temptation. 

The  great  work  of  John  was  now  over.  As  Samuel  had  once  conse- 
crated the  earthly  David  king  over  the  outward  theocracy,  the  last  of  the 
pro{)hets  had  consecrated  a  greater  king,  who  should  rule,  by  other  means, 
over  a  kingdom  wholly  different,  though  John,  standing  as  He  did,  out- 
side, could  at  best  only  dimly  conjecture  these  characteristics  of  the  new 
Messianic  reign.  He  lived  and  worked  long  enough  after  this  crowning 
moment,  to  rejoice  over  tlie  first  advances  of  the  new  theocracy  he  had 
called  into  being,  but  also  long  enough  to  show  that  he  did  not  compre- 
hend its  spirit,  as  he  would  have  done,  had  he  lived  later.  His  days  were 
numbered.  Those  in  power  feared  his  words  and  work,  which  gave  him 
supreme  influence  among  the  people.  The  priests  and  Rabbis  had  failed  ' 
in  their  plots  against  him,  but  what  they  could  not  themselves  do,  they 
wore  ere  long  able  to  effect  through  one  of  greater  power  for  evil. 

John  seems  latterly  to  have  moved  from  place  to  place,  along  both  banks 


THE    BAPTISM   OF   JESUS   AND    THE    DEATH    OF   JOHN.       265 

of  the  Jordan,  both  north  and  south.  How  long  he  continued  to  labour  ia 
not  known,  but  he  was  still  baptizing  after  Jesus  had  begun  His  ministry 
at  the  marriage  feast  of  Cana.  The  popularity  of  Jesus  had  roused  the 
jealousy  of  the  disciples  of  the  Baptist,  and  had  even  led  to  angry  feeling. 
A  dispute  with  a  Jew— probably  a  disciple  of  Jesus — respecting  baptism, 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  He  had,  apparently,  claimed  for  that  of 
Jesus  a  higher  power  of  cleansing  from  the  guilt  of  sin  than  that  of  their 
Master.  Irritated  and  annoyed,  John's  followers  returned  and  told  him 
how  He  "  who  had  been  with  him  beyond  Jordan,  to  whom  he  had  borne 
witness,  was  baptizing,  and  that  all  men  were  now  coming  to  Him.  The 
news  only  seemed  to  bring  the  grand  humility  of  the  Baptist  more  pro- 
minently than  ever  into  view,  and  showed  him  to  be  above  any  selfish  or 
petty  thought ;  a  man  to  whom  the  will  of  God  was  the  abiding  law.  "  He 
must  increase,"  said  he,  "  but  I  must  decrease,  for  He  is  the  Christ,  the 
Bridegroom.  I  rejoice  greatly  to  hear  His  voice.  He  is  from  above,  and, 
therefore,  above  all :  I  am  only  of  the  earth,  and  speak  as  such.  He  has 
received  the  testimony  of  heaven :  He  has  the  power  of  life  and  death : 
He  is  the  beloved  Son,  into  whose  hand  the  Father  has  committed  all 
things."  With  this  grand  utterance,  John  disappears  into  the  gloom  of  a 
prison.  He  had  been  a  "lamp,"  as  Jesus  calls  him,  burning  brightly  in 
his  day,  but  the  Light  of  the  world  had  now  risen,  and  his  light  must  grosv 
dim  jind  expire. 

John  owed  his  imprisonment  to  Herod  Antipas,  in  whose  territories  he 
had  sought  safety,  and  the  opportunity  of  carrying  on  his  work  in  peace. 
The  cause  assigned  before  the  people  for  his  arrest,  was  that  John  had 
ventured  to  reprove  Herod  for  his  unlaAvful  marriage  with  Herodias ;  but 
political  fears  had,  probably,  in  reality,  more  to  do  with  it.  Herod,  with 
the  crafty  cunning  for  which  Jesus  afterwards  si^oke  of  him  as  "  the  fox," 
was  afraid  that  John  might  turn  his  wide  popularity  to  political  account, 
and  head  a  religious  rising,  perhaps  like  that  of  Judas  the  G-aliltean,  for 
all  men  seemed  ready  for  anything  he  might  advise.  He  held  it,  there- 
fore, better,  says  Josephus,  to  anticipate  any  attempt  at  revolution,  by 
imprisoning  him,  and,  if  needs  were,  by  putting  him  to  death,  rather  than 
lament  a  disturbance  after  it  had  broken  out. 

Antipas,  it  seems,  passed  his  time,  now  in  Tiberias,  then  in  Machaerus, 
on  his  southern  border,  in  Perea.  In  him,  the  hierarchy  and  Kabbis  at 
Jerusalem,  impotent  themselves,  found  an  instrument  to  crush  the  un- 
licensed teacher  who  so  freely  condemned  them,  and  had  so  great  a  hold 
upon  the  people.  Pilate,  ever  fearful  of  any  popular  movement,  may 
have  demanded,  at  their  crafty  instigation,  that  action  should  be  taken, 
and  these  influences,  added  to  the  apprehensions  of  Antipas  himself, 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  Sending  a  band  of  soldiers  and  police  north- 
wards to  the  Jordan,  a  distance  of  from  six  to  eight  hours,  they  appre- 
licndcd  the  Baptist,  perhaps  by  night,  when  tlae  people  were  not  astir,  and, 
binding  the  defenceless  man,  hurried  him  off  to  the  fortress  Machaerus. 

This  castle,  known  as  "  the  diadem,"  from  its  crown-like  seat  on  the 
lofty  rocks,  and  as  "  the  black  tower,"  lay  on  the  east  side  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
almost  on  a  line  with  Bethlehem.  It  was  the  southern  stronghold  of  Perea, 


2o6  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

as  the  Macedonian  colony  of  Pella  was  the  northern.  Nature,  herself,  had 
here  raised  a  stronghold,  as  she  had  that  of  Masada,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  a  little  farther  south.  It  lay  above  the  deep  gorge  that  divides  the 
mountains  of  Abarim  from  the  range  of  Pisgah,  in  the  wild  region  where, 
from  immemorial  tradition,  the  Jews  sought  the  grave  of  Moses.  Af  ew  miles 
to  the  north,  in  a  deep,  rugged  valley,  lay  Callirrhoe,  famous  for  its  warm 
baths,  where  the  dying  Herod  had  sought  relief,  and  had  nearly  met  his 
death.  Its  hot  springs  burst  at  one  spot  from  the  rocks  in  the  bottom  of 
the  gorge,  and,  near  tliem,  others  poured  forth  water  of  the  iciest  coldness, 
while  the  hills  round  were  ia  those  days  pierced  with  mines  of  sulphur 
and  alum.  The  torrent  of  Zerka  Ma'in,  descending  between  walls  of  ba- 
salt, and  red,  brown,  and  black  volcanic  tuff,  rushes  throiTgh  the  ravine, 
over  a  channel  of  huge  rocks,  from  the  uplands  of  Perca  to  the  east  shore 
of  the  Dead  Sea.  At  a  short  distance  south,  the  "Wady  Z'gara  runs  east 
and  west,  in  a  profound  gorge,  with  precipitous  sides,  at  some  parts  eight 
hundred  feet  high,  cleaving  its  wild  way,  by  leaps,  down  three  thousand 
eight  hundred  feet,  to  the  Dead  Sea.  A  parallel  valley  succeeds,  along 
the  hollow  of  which  ran  the  old  Roman  road,  joining  Machaerus  with 
Callirrhoe,  and  with  the  great  road  from  Petra  to  Damascus.  Rising  from 
this  ravine,  the  long  mountain  ridge  of  Attaroth  stretches,  in  heaped-up 
confusion,  ten  miles  to  the  south-west,  and  on  the  highest  point  of  this, 
where  it  sinks  sheer  down  towards  the  Zerka  Ma'in,  the  ruins  of  Machaerus, 
in  great  masses  of  squared  stone,  still  overhang  the  gloomy  depth  below. 
At  the  foot  of  the  isolated  cliff  on  which  the  fortress  was  built,  and  sepa- 
rated from  it  by  a  deep  and  narrow  valley,  not  quite  a  mile  across,  lie  the 
ruins  of  the  town  of  Machaerus,  covering  more  than  a  square  mile,  showing 
in  the  remains  of  a  Temple  of  the  Sun,  that,  along  with  the  fanatical  Jewish 
population,  it  must  have  had  many  heathen,  that  is,  Greek  or  Roman 
citizens,  who  were  allowed  to  practise  their  idolatry  in  peace. 

The  first  fortress  had  been  raised  here  by  Alexander  Jannseus,  but  it 
was  afterwards  destroyed  by  Gabinius,  in  his  war  against  Aristobulus. 
/  When  Herod  came  to  be  king,  however,  his  keen  eye  saw  the  strength  of 
'  the  position,  and  he  determined  to  restore  the  castle  as  a  frontier  defence 
''  against  the  Arabs.  Surrounding  a  large  space  with  walls  and  towers,  he 
built  a  city  from  which  a  path  led  up  to  the  citadel,  on  the  top  of  the  hill. 
The  citadel  itself  was  at  one  end  of  a  narrow  ridge,  nearly  a  mile  in  length 
from  east  to  west,  and  formed  a  last  retreat  in  case  of  attack,  but  it  was 
not  enough  for  his  magnificent  ideas.  At  the  other  end  of  the  height,  he 
raised  a  great  wall,  enclosing  the  summit  of  the  hill,  with  toAvers  two 
hundred  feet  high  at  the  corners,  and  in  the  sjaace  thus  gained  built  a 
grand  palace,  with  rows  of  columns  of  a  single  stone  a-piece,  halls  lined 
with  many-coloured  marbles,  magnificent  baths,  and  all  the  details  of 
Roman  luxury,  not  omitting  huge  cisterns,  barracks,  and  storehouses,  with 
everything  needed  for  defence  in  case  of  siege.  The  detached  citadel  was 
the  scene  of  John's  imprisonment ;  a  stern  and  gloomy  keep,  with  under- 
ground dungeons,  still  visible,  hewn  down  into  the  living  rock.  The 
fortress-palace,  at  the  other  end  of  the  fortifications,  at  the  time  the 
residence  of  Antipas  and  his  retainers,  was  merry  with  their  revelry,  but 


THE    BAPTISM    OF   JESUS   AND    THE    DEATH    OP    JOHN.       267 

the  dungcou  of  John  lay  in  miduiglit  darkness.  From  liis  windows 
Antipas  had  a  magnificent  view  of  the  Dead  Sea,  the  Avhole  course  of  the 
Jordan,  Jerusalem,  Hebron,  the  frowning  fortress  of  Masada,  the  circle 
of  Jordan,  and  the  cliffs  of  Bngedi,  on  the  west,  and  of  the  mountains 
of  Gilead,  rising  bej'ond  the  wihl  heights  of  Pisgah,  on  the  north ;  but 
his  captiye,  the  child  of  the  boundless  wilderness,  pined  in  perpetual 
night. 

Beneath  this  stronghold,  perched  on  the  top  of  the  highest  summit  of 
the  wild  region,  the  yalleys  sank  in  unscalable  precipices,  on  three  sides, 
to  such  a  depth  that  Josephus  is  well-nigh  excused  for  thinking  that  the 
eye  could  not  reach  their  bottom.  The  fourth  side  was  only  a  little  less 
terrible.  Wild  desolation  reigned  far  and  near,  but  the  hidden  hollows  of 
some  of  the  gorges  were  luxuriant  with  palms,  olives,  and  vines,  and 
superstition  believed,  that,  among  other  wonders,  there  grew  in  them  a 
plant,  fiery  red  in  coloiu-,  and  shedding  rays  of  flame  in  the  evening,  which 
had  power  to  expel  demons  and  heal  diseases,  though  only  to  be  pidled  at 
the  cost  of  life.  Sectzen,  a  German  traveller,  who  re-discovered  the  site 
in  1807,  has  left  a  vivid  picture  of  the  landscape  round.  Masses  of  lava, 
brown,  red,  and  black,  are  varied  with  pumice  stone,  or  black  basalt,  in 
huge  broken  masses,  or  perpendicular  cliffs,  resting  on  white  limestone ; 
and  then,  again,  dark  brown  rocks — the  iron-mountain  of  Josephus.  The 
rushing  stream  beneath  is  overgrown  with  oleanders  and  date-palms, 
willows,  poplars,  and  tall  reeds,  while  hot  sulphur  springs  gush  from  the 
clefts  of  the  rocks,  sending  up  a  thick  mist  of  steam. 

In  this  wild,  warlike  place,  lay  John,  cut  off  from  the  world,  from 
Israel,  and  from  the  grand  work  of  national  regeneration  of  which  he  was 
the  soul — in  the  midst  of  a  population  of  soldiers,  barbarians,  Arabs,  Idu- 
means,  Amorites,  and  Moabites,  who  ran  no  risk  of  being  infected  by  his 
words.  Perhaps  he  was  favoured  beyond  other  prisoners  by  being  brought 
from  his  underground  vault,  after  a  time,  to  some  cell  of  the  corner 
towers,  to  be  near  his  captor.  If  so,  he  could  look  from  his  lonely  height 
over  the  regions  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan,  where  the  years  of  his 
desert  consecration,  and  the  months  of  his  great  work,  had  been  spent. 
Yet  he  was  no  mere  shadow  of  the  past,  but  still  a  living  power.  No 
strong  hand  had  jirotected  him ;  no  miracle  had  been  vouchsafed  by  God 
for  his  deliverance,  and  there  was  no  hope  of  a  rescue  by  the  people,  liovr- 
ever  they  might  regret  him,  or  murmur  at  his  fate.  His  prison,  unap- 
proachable on  three  sides,  and  reached,  on  the  fourth,  only  by  a  bridle 
path,  tlu'ough  numerous  fortified  gates,  made  escape  impossible.  ]S"or 
could  he  hope  to  have  support  from  any  within  the  castle  itself,  for  its 
motley  population  of  Arabs,  Edomites,  and  Moabites,  cared  nothing  for 
the  promises  of  Israel.  The  sheikhs  of  the  wandering  tribes  around  went 
in  and  out,  the  troops  of  the  garrison  were  reviewed  and  drilled,  or  lounged 
round  the  battlements,  and  the  courtiers  of  the  haughty  Herodias  flashed 
hither  and  thither  in  their  bravery,  through  the  town ;  the  hot  springs  of 
the  valley,  and  the  bracing  air  of  the  mountain-top,  gave  new  tone  to  the 
nerves  of  the  health-seekers  frequenting  them  from  all  parts;  but  the 
Baptist  lay  unheeded  and  helpless.     Apart  from  political  reasons,  it  was 


268  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

BO  healthy  a  place  that  Antipas  might  well  be  fond  of  it.  "  Provisions," 
says  Josephus,  "remained  good  for  a  hundred  years  in  the  fortress  of 
Masada,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  for  the  air,  at  the  great  height 
of  the  castle,  is  piu-ified  from  every  earthy  or  hurtful  exhalation."  Yet 
there  was  no  great  bustle,  for  the  place  was  too  remote  and  secluded  for 
much  intercourse  with  it.  Ten  thousand  people  lived  in  the  town  below, 
but  round  John  were  only  rough  soldiery,  drafted  from  the  neighbouring 
tribes,  and  the  attendants  on  Herod,  of  whom  Jesus  speaks  as  "  the  people 
gorgeously  apparelled,  who  lived  delicately,"  as  became  those  in  the  courts 
of  kino's.  Yet  the  nation,  with  unbroken  faith,  kept  watch  outside  the 
gates  of  the  prison,  and  the  breath  of  God  still  moved  among  them  like 
the  soft  wind  through  the  leaves  of  summer. 

Antipas  had  laid  hands  on  John  with  the  intention  of  putting  him  to 
death,  and  there  were  those  round  him  who  grudged  him  each  day's  life, 
but  fear  of  the  people  kept  "the  fox"  from  his  jDurpose,  for  a  time,  as  a 
similar  dread  on  the  part  of  the  hierarchy  at  Jerusalem,  afterwards  pro- 
tected Jesus.  Yet  his  prison  was  no  mere  detention,  for  prisons  in 
antiquity,  and  especially  in  the  East,  had  no  refinements  of  mercy.  The 
words  of  Christ — "  They  did  to  him  whatsoever  they  pleased,"  are  signifi- 
cant, and  point  to  torture,  insult,  and  ill-treatment.  The  spirit  that  called 
for  the  blind  Samson  to  be  brought  from  his  prison,  to  make  sport  before 
the  Philistine  lords,  was  still  in  full  vigour. 

But  John,  though  defenceless,  had  a  kingly  divinity  of  truth  and  good- 
ness, that,  for  a  time,  hedged  him  round  from  death.  Brought  before 
Antipas,  once  and  again,  to  be  shown  off  to  the  crowd  at  his  table,  he 
remained  so  completely  himself,  that  the  tyrant,  for  the  moment,  became 
the  inferior  of  the  helpless  prisoner.  Feeling  how  awful  goodness  is,  he 
"  feared  John,  knowing  that  he  was  a  righteous  and  holy  man,  and  kejit 
him  closely ;  and  when  he  heard  him  he  was  very  anxious,  and  heard  him 
gladly."  Even  he,  for  the  instant,  looked  towards  God  and  heaven ! 
Uneasy  conscience,  superstition,  a  natural  indisposition  to  violence,  and 
the  slow  cruel  delays  of  Eastern  justice,  left  John  alive.  He  was  even 
alloAvcd  to  have  intercourse  with  some  of  his  people,  whose  love  braved 
personal  danger,  and  brought  them  to  his  prison  to  visit  him.  Perhaps, 
as  with  St.  Paul,  when  a  prisoner  at  Caesarea,  thirty  years  later,  it  was 
formally  permitted  that  "he  should  have  liberty,  and  that  none  of  his 
acquaintance  should  be  forbidden  to  minister  or  come  unto  him  ;  "  or,  very 
likely,  the  loose  ways  of  the  East,  so  different  from  strict  Roman  practice, 
left  access  to  him  possible.  His  disciples  came  and  went,  brought  him 
news  from  the  outer  world,  and  told  him  of  the  preaching  of  the  Kingdom, 
that  had  begun  in  Galilee — perhaps  shared  his  imprisonment,  in  turn, 
listened  to  his  instructions,  and  went  forth  on  messages  connected  with 
his  great  work.  Antipas  had,  however,  nothing  to  fear  in  all  this,  and  the 
Baptist  had  as  little  to  hope.  His  disciples  had  held  badly  together, 
since  their  head  was  taken  from  them.  They  clung  firmly  only  to  the 
external,  ascetic  side  of  his  teaching,  as  might  have  been  expected,  striving 
to  outdo  the  Pharisees  in  washings  and  fasts,  and  they  went  about  sad, 
because  the  Bridegroom  was  taken  from  them.     Perhaps,  some  of  them 


THE    BAPTISM   OF   JESUS   AND   THE   DEATH   OF   JOHN.       2G9 

still  preached  the  coming  of  the  Kingdom,  and  baptized  penitents,  but  the 
crowds  fell  off,  in  great  part,  after  John's  imprisonment,  and  flocked  to  the 
new  projohet,  whom  he  himself  had  baptized. 

To  men  trained  in  Jewish  ideas,  there  was  much  that  seemed  strange 
and  doubtful  in  the  teaching  that  had  thus  superseded  that  of  John.  The 
works  of  Jesus  were  mighty,  but  His  disciples  did  not  fast.  The  Elijah- 
like sternness  of  the  preaching  in  the  wilderness  of  Judea,  was  not  found 
in  that  of  the  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Tiberias.  There  was  no  word  of  any 
oj^en  assumption  of  the  office  of  Messiah,  nor  any  signs  of  the  approaching 
erection  of  a  purified  theocracy.  There  were  no  preparations  for  the 
triumph  of  Israel,  and  no  symptoms  of  the  wrath  of  God  breaking  forth 
on  their  oppressors.  As  a  Jew,  John  must  have  shared,  more  or  less,  in 
the  universal  belief  of  his  nation,  that,  however  pure,  the  kingdom  of  the 
Messiah  was  to  be  an  earthly  dominion  over  Israel,  when  it  had  been  de- 
livered from  the  polluting  presence  of  the  heathen,  and  had  been  marked, 
once  more,  as  the  people  of  God,  under  Him  alone.  The  news  he  received 
seems  to  have  made  him  almost  waver  in  his  belief  in  Jesus,  as  the  Messiah 
thus  expected,  for  the  human  mind  in  loneliness,  disappointment,  and  im- 
perfect knowledge,  is  prone  to  read  things  by  the  dull  light  of  the  present, 
rather  than  by  the  evidence  of  the  past.  In  moments  of  weakness  and 
despondency,  it  is  easy  to  think  that  our  whole  life  has  been  a  dream,  and 
our  fondest  hopes  mere  illusions.  The  Gospels  seem  to  point  at  such  a 
momentary  depression  in  the  mind  of  John.  As  if  he  had  been  lost  in 
thought  over  what  he  had  heard  from  his  visitors,  he  sent  to  Jesus  for  a 
solution  of  his  doubts.  "  Now,  when  John  heard  in  the  prison  of  the 
works  of  the  Christ,  for  they  had  told  him  concerning  all  these  things  " — 
the  miracle  of  the  centurion's  servant,  and  of  the  young  man  just  raised 
from  the  bier  at  Nain — "  having  called  unto  him  two  of  his  disciples,  he 
sent,  through  them,  to  the  Lord,  and  said  to  Him,  '  Ai't  Thou  the  Coming 
One,  or  must  we  look  for  another  ?  '  And  the  men  came  to  Him  and  said : 
•John  the  Baptist  has  sent  us  unto  Thee  saying,  "Art  Thou  the  Coming 
One,  or  must  we  look  for  another  ?  "  '  In  that  hour  He  healed  many  of 
diseases,  and  plagues,  and  evil  spirits  ;  and  unto  many  blind  He  granted 
sight.  And  He  answered,  and  said  unto  them,  '  Go  and  tell  John  what  ye 
saw  and  heard,  that  the  blind  receive  sight,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are 
cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised,  and  the  poor  have  the  Gospel 
preached  unto  them ;  '  "  and  then  He  added,  as  if  to  bring  John  back  from 
his  doubts,  "  and  blessed  is  he,  whosoever  shall  not  be  offended  at  Me." 
The  whole  answer  showed  a  fulfilment  of  the  words  of  Isaiah  respecting 
the  Messiah,  which  must  have  sunk  deep  into  the  heart  of  one  to  whom 
that  great  prophet  was  an  anticipatory  Gospel.  John  would  remember 
that  in  one  place  it  was  written — "  Your  God  will  come  and  save  you. 
Then  the  eyes  of  the  blind  shall  be  opened,  and  the  ears  of  the  deaf  shall 
be  unstopped.  Then  shall  the  lame  man  leap  as  a  hart,  and  the  tongue  of 
the  dumb  sing ;  "  and  in  another — "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon 
me ;  because  the  Lord  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  good  tidings  unto  the 
meek  ;  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives, 
and  the  opening  of  the  jirison  to  them  that  are  bound;  to  proclaim  the 


270  TEE    LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

acceptable  year  of  the  Lord."  Jesus  could  have  given  him  no  proof  more 
toTiching  that  He  was  indeed  the  Messiah. 

This  was  the  summer  of  John's  captivity,  but  the  winter  was  fast 
approaching,  Antipas,  and,  perhaps,  Herodias,  and  the  local  court  around 
them,  were  curious  to  see  and  hear  the  man  who  had  played  so  great  a 
part.  At  first,  mere  idle  curiosity,  like  that  which  afterwards  made  him 
anxious  to  see  Jesus, — though  he  ended  his  interview  by  "  setting  Him  at 
nought  and  mocking  Him," — made  him  have  John  brought  before  him. 
Perhaps  the  mingled  motives  which  led  Agrippa  II.,  Berenice,  and  Drusilla, 
to  have  Paul  brought  into  their  presence,  led  to  the  Baj^tist  being  called 
into  the  palace.  To  hear  anything  unpleasant  from  one  in  their  power 
was  not  to  be  imagined.  The  sight  of  him  would  break  the  monotony  of 
an  afternoon,  and  give  something  to  talk  about  for  the  evening.  But  he 
v/as  no  man  for  royal  halls.  Life  was  too  real  for  him  to  deal  in  smooth- 
tongued flatteries  and  deceits.  He  made  an  impression  on  the  court, 
though  it  was  far  too  proud  and  trifling  to  think  of  anything  so  vulgar  as 
repentance.  Like  St.  Paul  before  Felix  and  Drusilla,  but  in  quite  another 
mode,  he  was  a  preacher  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment, 
though  in  bonds.  "  It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  thy  brother's  wife," 
said  the  fearless  man, — in  the  grand  superiority  of  religious  zeal, — to  him 
who  had  his  life  in  his  hands.  Perhaps  Antipas  had  wished  to  know  what 
he  must  do  to  secure  an  interest  in  the  approaching  political  kingdom  of 
God,  and  was,  thus,  urged  to  prove  his  sincerity  by  breaking  off  a  life  of 
sin.  In  the  reproof,  John  set  himself  on  the  firm  footing  of  the  Mosaic 
LaAV,  which  bound  Herod,  as  a  Jewish  prince ;  though  the  cowardly  silence 
of  the  hierarchy  had  allowed  him  to  trample  it  under  foot  at  his  will, 
without  censure.  "  Herodias,"  says  Josephus,  "  took  upon  her  to  confound 
the  laws  of  our  country,  and,  having  divorced  herself  from  her  husband 
while  he  was  alive,  married  Herod  (Antipas),  her  husband's  brother  by 
the  father's  side."  The  Law  had  repeatedly  forbidden  marriage  with  a 
living  brother's  wife,  threatening  it  with  childlessness,  as  a  grievous 
scandal,  and  making  no  difference  between  brothers  and  half-brothers. 
In  the  case  of  Antipas  the  transgi-ession  was  the  greater,  as  John  saw  and 
pointed  out,  for  his  marriage  had  only  been  effected  by  adultery  on  the 
part  of  both  wife  and  husband.  Moreover,  it  had  been  brought  about  by 
the  most  heartless  outrage  on  the  hospitality  of  a  brother.  To  make  the 
whole  more  revolting,  Herodias  was  the  niece  of  Antipas ;  but  it  was  not 
needed  that  John  should  touch  on  this  relationship  between  them,  for  the 
Law  did  not  take  notice  of  it,  and  the  Herod  family  had  long  disregarded 
such  objections. 

The  disgraceful  story  dated  back  to  the  first  or  second  year  of  Pilate. 
In  the  year  26,  or,  more  probably,  27,  the  whole  family  of  the  Herods  had 
gathered  together  to  a  feast  in  Jerusalem.  To  this  act  of  piety,  as  it  was 
held,  they  had  given  a  still  higher  value,  in  public  opinion,  by  their  action 
in  a  matter  which  lay  near  the  heart  of  a  population  zealous  for  the  Law. 
To  prevent  an  insurrection,  Pilate,  in  the  year  26,  had  reluctantly  with- 
dra-\vn  the  standards  with  their  supposed  idolatrous  emblems,  set  up 
before  the  Castle  Antonia.     But  his  offended  pride  had  not  forgotten  the 


THE    BAPTISM    OF   JESUS   AND    THE    DEATH   OF   JOHN.       271 

humiliatiou,  and  lie,  now,  to  efface  the  remembrance  of  it,  had  hung  votive 
tablets  on  the  palace  in  Zion.  They  were  golden  shields,  dedicated  to 
Tiberius,  like  those  everywhere  suspended  in  the  temples,  in  honour  of 
the  gods,  as  acknowledgment  of  some  deliverance,  or  signal  blessing  in 
health  or  fortune,  received  at  their  hands.  They  got  their  name  from 
having  been  vowed  beforehand,  in  case  a  divine  favour  earnestly  desired, 
should  be  vouchsafed.  On  those  he  now  introduced,  Pilate  inscribed  only 
his  own  name  and  that  of  Tiberius,  but  the  Jews  denounced  them  as 
idolatrous,  and  raised  a  great  clamour  for  their  removal.  The  letter  of 
the  Law  might  not  condemn  them,  but  they  had  homage  paid  them,  like 
altars,  and,  hence,  were  an  abomination.  The  four  sons  of  Herod  took  up 
the  defence  of  the  Law,  thus  outraged  in  spirit,  and  on  Pilate  referring 
the  matter  to  the  Emperor,  to  escape  a  second  humiliation,  a  deputation 
was  sent  off  to  Eome.  It  happened  that  Antipas  also  had  business  at 
Eome  at  the  time,  and  as  he  set  out  on  it  now,  the  people  saw  in  his 
journey  a  further  proof  of  his  piety,  as  they  never  doubted  he  had  gone  in 
support  of  their  cause.  But  he  had  adultery  in  his  heart  while  affecting 
zeal  for  religion. 

Among  the  members  of  the  Herod  family  present  at  the  family  feast 
was  Herod  Boethos,  the  son  of  Herod  the  Great  and  the  second  Mariamne, 
the  famous  Jerusalem  beauty  of  her  day,  whose  father,  an  Alexandrian 
Jew,  Herod  had  raised  to  the  high  priesthood,  in  honour  of  the  alliance 
with  his  daughter.  This  Herod  Boethos  had  married  Herodias,  the  grand- 
daughter of  his  father  and  the  first  Mariamne,  and  daughter  of  Ai-istobulus, 
one  of  Mariamne's  murdered  sons.  The  uncle  had  thus  married  the  niece, 
but  this  was  nothing  strange  in  the  Herods.  When  Antipas  came  to 
Jerusalem,  to  the  feast,  Herod  Boethos  made  him  his  guest,  as  his  half- 
brother.     Never  was  hospitality  worse  repaid. 

The  fail',  impetuous,  ambitious  Herodias  presently  made  a  complete 
conquest  of  the  weak,  unprincipled  Antipas.  He  soon  found  himself 
entangled  in  an  intrigue  with  the  wife  of  his  hospitable  brother,  though 
he  had  long  been  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  powerful  neighbour,  Aretas, 
king  of  the  Nabateans,  whose  dominions  were  conterminous  with  his  own 
on  the  south,  with  Petra  for  capital.  Herodias  had  been  married,  by  her 
grandfather  Herod,  to  Herod  Boethos,  or  Herod  Philip,  as  he  was  also 
called,  now  a  man  approaching  fifty,  to  mitigate  the  misfortunes  of  her 
family,  left  fathei'less  by  his  cruel  murder  of  his  son  Aristobulus.  She 
had  had,  as  her  only  child,  a  daughter,  Salome,  now  married  to  Philip, 
tetrarch  of  Iturea,  the  brother  of  Antipas,  who  was  a  man  in  middle  life  ; 
Herodias,  herself,  being  a  woman  of  thirty-four  or  thirtj^-five,  or  perhaps, 
some  years  older.  Divine  and  human  laws  have  seldom  been  more  shame- 
lessly violated  than  by  Antipas,  while  he  was  playing  the  part,  in  public, 
of  a  zealous  defender  of  religion.  The  vice  of  Herodias  ran  in  her  veins 
with  the  blood  of  Herod  and  of  his  sister  Salome,  for  their  worst  qualities 
were  revived  in  her  nature.  Her  husband,  who  had  once  been  named  as 
Herod's  heir,  but  had  been  blotted  from  the  will  when  his  mother  was 
detected  in  the  plot  of  Bagoas  the  eunuch,  seems  to  have  led  an  idle  and 
insignificant  life  as  a  private  man,  much  to  Mio  discontent  of  his  imperious, 


272  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST, 

ambitious  wife.  She  was  ready,  tliercfore,  to  intrigue  with  a  crowned 
prince,  though  her  brother-in-law,  and  promised  to  come  to  him,  as  soon 
as  he  returned  from  Eome.  It  was  agreed,  however,  that  Antipas  should 
first  divorce  his  wife,  the  daughter  of  Aretas. 

Antipas  set  off  to  Eome  with  this  arrangement.  It  was  to  be  carried 
out  as  soon  as  he  came  back  again  to  his  palace  at  Tiberias,  though  he, 
doubtless,  looked  for  trouble  in  effecting  his  divorce  from  the  daughter  of 
the  Nabatean  king.  To  his  satisfaction,  however,  she  had  spared  hira  any 
difficulty.  The  treachery  which,  from  of  old,  prevailed  in  the  courts  of 
the  Herods,  had  revealed  her  husband's  relations  to  Herodias,  and  she 
resolved  to  leave  him.  She  asked  no  more  than  permission  to  visit  the 
border  fortress,  Machaerus,  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  Herods, 
but,  at  the  time,  was  in  her  father's  hands,  perhaps  as  the  purchase  price, 
in  Eastern  fashion,  of  his  daughter.  Its  hot  springs  were  in  great  repute 
as  a  health  resort.  Aretas  at  once  took  steps  to  carry  her  farther  off. 
Conducted  by  Arab  sheikhs,  she  was  led  to  her  family  palace  at  Peti-a,  and 
her  father  declared  the  marriage  annulled.  Antipas  received  Machaerus 
back ;  whether  by  treaty,  craft,  or  force,  is  not  known.  Perhaps  the  Arab 
feared  the  tetrarch,  as  one  high  in  the  Emperor's  favour;  perhaps  Antipas 
exchanged  the  fortress  for  other  concessions.  In  any  case,  the  peace  was 
not  disturbed  for  the  time,  and  Herodias  left  her  husband,  and  came  to 
the  palace  at  Tiberias. 

The  whole  shameful  transaction  had  been  carried  out  in  the  very  region 
of  John's  earlier  ministrations,  and  had,  doubtless,  created  a  great  sensa- 
tion in  tlie  districts  nearest  the  Arab  kingdom.  Public  policy  felt  it  a 
mistake  to  have  I'epudiated  the  daughter  of  a  dangerous  neighbour ;  the 
Law  and  its  representatives 'denounced  as  a  crime  the  marriage  with  a 
brother's  wife.  Even  in  his  own  family,  the  hateful  marriage,  with  its 
double  adultery,  wrought  division,  cutting  Antipas  off  from  all  his  blood. 
It  was  the  weak  point  of  his  otherwise  cautious  reign,  which  had  guarded 
against  offending  the  religious  sensitiveness  of  the  people,  and  it  left  his 
frontiers  exposed  to  the  anger  of  Aretas,  in  revenge  for  the  insult. 

It  is  possible  that  a  matter  so  widely  mooted  among  the  people,  may 
have  been  referred  to  by  John  before  he  was  carried  off  to  Machaerus. 
But  the  Gospels  inform  us,  that  the  fearless  man  reproved  Herod  resjDect- 
ing  it,  face  to  face,  perhaps  before  all  his  court.  If  he  had  been  brought 
for  a  show,  and  let  loose  this  shaft  at  the  sleeping  conscience  of  Antipas, 
before  his  partner  in  guilt  and  the  gay  parasites  round,  no  scene  could 
have  been  more  dramatic.  But  the  man  who  had  spoken  such  words  could 
not  be  allowed  to  live.  Herodias  Avas  determined  he  should  pay  for  his 
rashness  with  his  life,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  working  on  Antipas  to 
give  the  command  for  his  execution. 

The  bitter  fruits  of  the  marriage  were  already  springing  up,  to  poison 
the  tetrarch's  remaining  years.  The  curse  of  cliildlessness,  denounced  by 
the  Law  on  such  a  crime,  was  fulfilling  itself.  The  father  of  his  repudi- 
ated wife  threatened  war  for  the  insult  to  his  daughter,  and  Antipas  waa 
engrossed  by  efforts  to  prepare  for  it,  if  he  could  not  prevent  it.  Long, 
fierce  wrangling  passed,  after  a  time,  into  open  hostility,  and  Antipas  was 


THE    EAPTISM    OF   JESUS    AND    THE    DEATH    OF    JOHN.       273 

so  .sliamefully  defeated  tliafc  he  had  to  appeal  to  the  Emijeror  for  aid,  and 
kept  his  thi'one,  for  the  time,  only  by  his  support.  Perhaps  Jesus  referred 
to  this  uneasy  time  when  He  asked,  "  What  king,  going  to  make  war 
against  another  king,  will  not  first  sit  down  and  consult  whether  he  is 
able,  Avith  10,000,  to  meet  him  that  comes  against  him  with  20,000  ? 
Otherwise,  while  he  is  yet  a  great  way  off,  having  sent  an  embassy,  lie 
asks  conditions  of  peace."  To  make  his  position  still  more  unhappy,  John 
had  touched  his  conscience  to  the  quick  by  his  reproofs.  Should  he  put 
him  to  death,  and  thus,  at  once,  avenge  such  a  liberty  with  one  who  wore 
the  purple,  and  bring  to  an  end  all  fear  of  political  trouble,  through  the 
bold  man's  influence  on  the  people  ?  Herodias  sedulously  kept  alive  the 
struggle  in  her  husband's  breast,  between  conscience  and  fear,  and  passion 
and  piide.  She  herself  was  douljly  touched,  for  John  had  recalled  her 
violation  of  her  first  duty  as  a  wife,  and  the  ghastly  fact  that  she  had  been 
the  virtual  seducer  of  him  whom  she  now  had  in  her  jiower.  But  Antipas, 
for  once,  would  not  give  way  to  the  murderous  wish  of  Herodias.  He 
spared  the  Baptist's  life,  protected  him  from  the  snares  of  his  unscrupu- 
lous enemy,  and  even  made  his  imprisonment  beai'able,  as  far  as  was 
possible.  It  was  no  friendly  feeling,  however,  that  moved  him  thus,  but 
the  involuntary  homage  of  even  a  bad  nature  to  the  unbending  truth  and 
moral  grandeur  of  his  prisoner— a  homage  akin  to  fear — which  made  him 
tremble  hereafter  at  the  report  of  the  miracles  of  Jesus,  in  the  belief  that 
it  was  John  risen  from  the  grave,  clothed  with  the  supernatural  powers  of 
the  other  world. 

"  Herod,  though  in  his  palace,  surrounded  with  his  royal  guards,  feared 
him.  He  knew  the  Baptist  was  stronger  then  he,  for  truth  is  mighty,  and 
mightily  prevaileth  :  and  being  already  conscious  of  his  offendings,  and 
having  enough  to  do  to  keep  down  the  voices  of  crime  and  transgression 
within  him,  he  feared  this  righteous  man,  whose  words  gave  such  edge  to 
his  self-acciisations,  such  point  to  his  remorse.  Unarmed,  the  Baptist 
daunted  him  more  than  an  army  of  men,  an  embattled  city,  or  a  fenced 
tower,  or  any  other  source  of  phj'sical  and  outward  force.  It  reminds  me 
of  the  saying  of  the  first  James,  when  Knox's  daughter  came  to  petition 
for  her  husband  Welsh's  pardon.  The  monarch  asked  her  who  she  was  ; 
she  rejolied,  '  Tlie  daughter  of  John  Knox.'  '  Knox  and  Welsh,'  said  he, 
'  that  is  a  fearful  conjunction  of  bloods.  And  had  your  father  any  sous  ? 
'  No,  only  three  daughters.'  '  Had  his  three  daughters  been  three  sons,' 
said  the  conscience-stricken  monarch,  'I would  ill  have  brinkcd'  (enjoyed) 
'  my  three  kingdoms  in  peace.  Ho  may  return,  if  he  will  consent  never  to 
preach  again.'  '  Sooner  than  he  should  consent  to  that,'  said  the  godly 
and  heroic  woman,  '  I  would  kep '  (catch  as  it  fell  from  the  block)  '  his 
bloody  head  here,' — stretching  out  the  matronal  apron  in  which  she  was 
attired." 

That  Antipas  thus  stood  between  his  prisoner  and  the  Jezebel  who 
thirsted  for  his  death,  and  even  protected  him,  in  a  wild  border  district 
where  human  life  was  held  in  no  regard,  was  a  noble  tribute  to  the  great- 
ness of  John,  for  none  but  a  lofty  soul  could  have  made  such  an  impression 
on  the  weak,  selfish,  sensual,  knavish  being,  in  whose  prison  he  lay,  or 

I 


274  TUE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

could  have  roused,  even  in  such  a  nature,  whatever  it  had  of  good,  to  a 
struggle  with  'overpowering  evil.  It  was,  almost,  the  raising  of  a  son  of 
Abraham  from  the  stones  of  the  wilderness.  The  tyrant's  alarm  and  Avant 
of  resolution,  his  consciousness  of  guilt  and  involuntary  awe,  fenced  round 
the  life  of  the  Baptist  for  the  time,  till  the  furious  Avoman,  whose  dismissal 
John  had  demanded,  after  vainly  trying  to  gain  her  end  by  wild  revenge, 
reached  it,  at  last,  by  craft. 

Antipas  had  had  the  good  fortune,  by  no  means  common  with  tlie  vassals 
of  Tiberius,  to  keep  his  throne  for  over  thirty  years,  and,  like  his  father, 
had  been  accustomed  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  his  accession,  each 
summer,  by  a  banquet.  The  time  for  this  had  now  returned,  and  an 
invitation  to  a  grand  festivity  on  the  occasion  was  given  to  the  officei's  in 
attendance  at  Machaerus,  the  sheikhs  of  the  neio-libourino-  tribes,  and  the 
high  society  within  reach,  including  the  lords,  chief  captains,  and  first  men 
of  Galilee.  Persius,  the  Roman  satirist,  has  left  us  a  notice  of  such  a  feast 
on  the  "  Herod's  day,"  of  some  of  the  family,  perhaps  of  Antipas.  He 
shows  us  the  palace  windows  brilliantly  illuminated  and  hung  with 
garlands  of  flowers ;  the  tables  spread  with  every  ostentation  of  luxury, 
and  the  wine  flowing  freely.  On  this  occasion,  the  mirth  and  rejoicing 
ran  high.  Herodias,  herself,  was  not  present,  for  it  is  not  the  custom  even 
now,  in  the  East,  for  the  women  to  take  jDart  in  the  festivities  of  men. 
But  to  do  honour  to  the  day,  and  to  the  company,  her  daughter  Salome, 
the  childless  wife  of  the  tetrarch  Philip,  had  broken  through  the  rule  of 
strict  seclusion  from  the  other  sex,  and  had  condescended,  though  a  prin- 
cess, and  the  daughter  of  kings,  to  dance  before  Antipas  and  his  guests. 
The  dancing  then  in  vogue  both  in  Eome  and  the  provinces,  from  its 
popularity  under  Augustus,  was  very  like  that  of  our  modern  ballet.  The 
dancer  did  not  speak,  but  acted  some  story  by  gestures,  movements,  and 
attitudes,  to  the  sound  of  music.  Masks  were  used  in  all  cases,  to  conceal 
the  features,  but  the  other  parts  of  the  body,  especially  the  hands  and 
arms,  were  called  into  action,  and  a  skilful  pautomimist  could  express 
feelings,  passions,  and  acts,  with  surprising  effect.  The  subjects  of  the 
dance  were  always  mythological,  and  thus,  an  abhorrence  to  strict  Jews,  as 
essentially  heathen.  The  dress  of  the  performer,  like  that  of  the  dancers 
in  our  ballet,  Avas  planned  to  show  the  beauty  of  the  figure  to  the  greatest 
advantage,  though  it  varied  with  the  cliaracters  represented.  In  the  days 
of  Antipas  there  never  was  more  than  one  dancer  at  a  time,  even  when  the 
piece  introduced  both  sexes.  Women  did  not  perform  thus  in  public,  in 
these  earlier  times  of  the  empire,  but,  as  in  the  case  of  Salome,  they  did 
not  scruple  to  act  at  the  private  parties  of  the  great. 

Salome's  ballet  was  a  great  success.  The  revellers  were  charmed,  and 
the  weak  head  of  Antipas,  perhaps  made  weaker  by  wine,  v,-as  fairly  turned. 
He  could  not  give  away  the  humblest  village  without  permission  from 
Tiberius,  but  forgetful  of  this,  he  vowed,  in  true  Eastern  exaggeration,  to 
do  anything  the  dancer  asked  ;  if  it  were  to  give  her  half  of  his  kingdom. 
Seizing  the  chance,  she  was  yet  too  cautious  to  speak  off  hand,  but  retired 
to  considt  her  mother.  Herodias,  clutching  the  opportunity,  had  no  hesi- 
tation in  her  answer—"  Ask  the  head  of  John  the  Bantist."     Eeturnins 


THE   BAPTISM    OF   JESUS   AND    THE    DEATH    OF   JOHN.       275 

at  once,  slic  made  the  bloody  request.  Chagrined  at  the  advantage  taken 
of  him,  and  alarmed  at  its  probable  results,  he  yet  had  not  the  moral 
courage  to  refuse  it.  His  honour,  he  fancied,  was  compromised,  for  he 
had  put  himself  in  Salome's  power,  before  the  company.  Motioning, 
therefore,  to  a  soldier  of  the  guard,  he  commanded  him  to  bring  John's 
head.  There  was  no  warning  given  :  the  entrance  of  the  messenger  was 
the  signal  for  execution,  and  the  head  was  presently  brought  in  on  a  salver 
and  given  to  Salome,  who  took  it  out  as  a  welcome  present  to  her  mother. 
The  mutilated  body,  cared  for  by  loving  disciples,  was,  perhaps  the  same 
night,  laid  in  a  tomb. 

It  is  a  weird  and  ghastly  story,  but  one  ([uite  in  keeping  with  the 
almost  grotesquely  liorrible  incidents  recorded  of  the  half  barbarous 
com-ts  of  the  East,  and  even  of  that  of  Eome,  in  this  savage  age.  Hero- 
dotus tells  the  story  of  the  demand  made  by  Amestris,  wife  of  Xerxes,  on  a 
birthday  festival  of  her  husband,  that  he  should  give  up  the  wife  of 
Masistes  to  her  jealous  rage,  and  how,  on  her  persisting,  he  fancied  he 
could  not,  on  that  day,  refuse.  'No  entreaty  of  the  unfortunate  jorince  could 
avail  for  his  wife,  whom  he  loved  ;  Xerxes  having  once  cominanded  her  to 
be  given  up  to  her  rival.  Nor  is  the  grim  parallel  to  the  fury  of  Herodias 
wanting,  for  the  spearmen  of  Xerxes  were  forthwith  sent  by  the  frantic 
Amestris,  and  cut  her  rival  to  pieces,  throwing  her  in  fragments  to  the 
dogs. 

In  the  year  B.C.  53,  after  the  battle  of  Karrha,  the  Parthian  King, 
Orodes,  was  celebrating  the  marriage  of  his  son  Pacorus  when  the  actor 
who  played  the  part  of  Agave,  in  the  Bacchce  of  Euripides,  brought  in  the 
half  wasted  head  of  Crassus  on  the  stage,  and  the  chorus  rejjeated,  with 
loud,  triumphant  rejoicing,  the  well-known  strophe — 

"  We  biing  from  tlie  mountain, 
Borne  to  our  borne, 
The  royal  booty,  the  bleeding  sport." 

Nor  was  Rome  itself  less  savage.  Caligula  often  had  men  put  to  torture 
before  his  guests  at  his  feasts,  and  swordsmen,  skilled  in  beheading, 
amused  the  table  by  cutting  off  the  heads  of  prisoners  brought  in  from 
their  dungeons,  to  show  their  dexterity.  At  a  public  feast  at  Eome,  ho 
ordered  the  executioner  to  strike  off  the  hands  of  a  slave,  accused  of  having 
taken  a  silver  plate  from  one  of  the  couches,  and  made  the  poor  wretch  go 
round  and  round  the  tables  with  his  hands  hanging  on  his  breast  from  a 
cord  round  his  neck,  a  board  being  carried  before  him,  inscribed  with  his 
offence. 

After  the  death  of  the  Baptist,  Antipas  returned  to  Tiberias,  haunted  ])y 
the  remembrance  of  his  victim.  Salome  went  back  to  her  elderly  husband* 
who  had  already  built  a  tomb  for  himself,  in  Julias  Bethsaida,  and  did  not 
long  survive  his  marriage.  Salome,  left  a  widow,  once  more  returned  to 
her  mother. 

The  marriage  had  been  a  speculation  of  Herodias,  who  hoped  thus  to 
get  hold  of  the  territory  of  her  neighbour  and  son-in-law.  But  the  scheme 
failed,  for  the  tetrarchy  was  forthwith  incorporated  with  the  province  of 
Syria.     Antipas,  hov/ever,  still  hankered  after  it,  and  turned  wistful  eyes 


276  THE   LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

towards  it  from  liis  palace  at  Tiberias,  till,  at  last,   it  lured  liim   and 
Hcrodias  to  ruin. 

"The  Baptist  had  done  the  Almighty  good  service— he  had  not  turned 
back,  on  any  occasion,  from  his  perilous  duty— he  had  kept  his  N'azaritc 
ritual,  both  in  bodj^  and  spirit,  sustaining  the  one  upon  the  simplest  meat, 
and  the  other  upon  the  hardest  conditions.  The  Almighty  heard  the 
voice  which  he  spoke  always  for  His  well-beloved  Son  ;  He  saw  that  he 
spoke  truth,  and  held  his  integrity  steadfast  unto  the  end.  And,  perceiv- 
ing in  His  servant  such  noble  and  excellent  qualities,  He  resolved  to 
jierfect  him  for  a  high  place  in  heaven,  and  so  directed  his  footstep.^!  to  the 
fiery  furnance  of  a  court,  that  the  temper  of  his  truth  and  piety  might  be 
purified  manifold.  And  in  the  fiery  furnace  He  walked  with  His  servant, 
so  that  his  spirit  was  not  harmed ;  and  having  tliiis  aimealed  his  nature  to 
the  utmost  which  this  earth  could  do.  He  took  him  hastily  away,  and 
placed  him  among  the  glorified  in  heaven." 


CHAPTEE   XXVII. 

THE   TEMPTATION. 

THE  baptism  of  Jesus  in  Jordan,  and  His  consecration  immediately 
after  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  were  the  close  of  His  private,  and  the 
inau  o-uration  of  His  puljlic,  life.  Hitherto  He  had  been  the  tinknown 
and  obscure  villager  of  JSTazareth  :  henceforth  He  entered  on  His  Divine 
mission  as  the  Messiah,  or  "  Anointed"  of  God.  The  beginning  of  His 
ministry,  and  the  heavenly  equipment  needed  to  sustain  Him  in  it,  are 
always  referred,  by  the  Apostles  themselves,  to  this  supreme  occasion. 
With  them.  His  commission,  and  special  endowment  for  His  mighty  woi-k, 
dated  from  His  baptism.  "  Ye  know,"  says  St.  Peter,  "  what  was  spoken 
of  throughout  all  Judea,  beginning  from  Galilee,  after  the  baptism  which 
John  preached,  concerning  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  that  God  anointed  Him 
with  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  with  power ;  who  went  about  doing  good,  and 
curing  all  that  were  overpowered  by  the  devil,  for  God  was  with  Him." 
A  mysterious  dignity  imparted  by  this  heavenly  "  anointing,"  filled  Him, 
consciously,  with  supernatural  powers  He  had  not  hitherto  displayed,  and 
raised  Him  from  the  subordinate  and  passive  life  of  Nazareth,  to  the  high 
office  of  "  Messenger  of  the  Covenant,"  "  the  Messiah  promised  to  the 
fathers." 

In  the  thirty  years  of  His  life  in  Nazareth,  Jesus  had  done  no  miracles, 
and  had  assumed  no  authority  or  public  standing  as  a  teacher.  On  the 
contrary,  He  had  so  Avithdrawn  into  the  shade  of  a  studied  obscurity,  and 
conformed  to  the  daily  life  of  those  around,  that  no  one,  apparently, 
suspected  Him  to  be  more  than  the  humble  villager  He  seemed. 

The  baptism  in  the  Jordan,  with  its  mysterious  accompaniments — the 
Heavenly  Dove  and  the  Voice  of  God— marked  the  dividing  line  in  His 
life.  With  such  credentials,  and  such  endowments.  His  call  as  the 
Messiah  was  no   longer   doubtful.     We   know  nothing   of   His    spiritual 


THE   TEMPTATION.  277 

history  while  at  Nazareth,  beyond  the  fact  that  His  thoughts  expanded 
with  His  years,  for  His  "keeping  on  increasing  in  wisdom,"  can  mean 
nothing  less.  Presentiments  must  have  often  risen  in  His  mind,  but  He 
may  have  had  no  assurance  that  they  were  trustworthy — for  His  Divine 
nature  is  a  mystery— till  formally  "  anointed  with  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
with  power."  After  His  l^aptism,  we  can  readily  fancy  Him,  during  His 
stay  at  the  Jordan,  listening  intently  to  the  jjreaching  of  John,  and  watch- 
ing the  excited  multitudes,  till  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  Him,  that 
the  Law  could  no  longer  be  the  channel  of  salvation  to  the  sin-stricken, 
repentant  crowds.  The  gift  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  words  of  the  Heavenly 
Voice,  would  confirm  this  conviction,  and  make  it  for  ever  certain  that 
the  path  into  which  John  was  introducing  his  converts,  could  not,  of  it- 
self, lead  to  the  fulness  of  truth  and  abiding  peace  of  heart.  The  opened 
heavens  revealed  a  new  relation  of  G  od  to  man,  which  must  be  proclaimed ; 
and  in  the  holy  symbol  of  the  dove — the  pledge  in  Noah's  day  that  wrath 
had  turned  to  mercy — the  chosen  emblem  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  a  vivid 
lesson  was  given  that  peace  could  be  won  back  to  the  troubled  soul,  and 
the  soul  itself  renewed,  only  by  the  soft  and  gentle  influence  of  heavenly 
grace.  Set  apart,  by  so  august  a  consecration,  as  God's  anointed,  the 
regeneration  of  the  race,  and  the  reconciliation  of  earth  and  heaven,  were 
henceforth  entrusted  to  His  hands.  He  had,  till  now,  been  silent ;  but 
forthwith  began  to  proclaim  that  the  kingdom  of  God  was  no  longer,  as 
John  had  taught,  near  at  hand,  but  had  already  come,  and  at  once  assumed 
and  exercised  the  highest  kingly  authority,  as  its  Head ;  working  miracles 
as  a  proof  of  His  superhuman  dignity  ;  bearing  Himself  in  the  Temple  as 
in  His  Father's  House  ;  discoursing,  as  the  Messiah,  with  Nicodemus. 
He  even  took  to  Himself,  from  this  time,  the  name  of  "  The  Son  of  Man," 
derived  from  the  vision  of  the  Messiah  in  the  Book  of  Daniel,  and 
universally  accepted  from  that  source,  as  the  symbol  of  Messianic  rank. 
His  baptismal  consecration  was  forthwith  followed  by  His  taking  His 
place  as  king  in  the  new  theocracy ;  ruling,  and  legislating,  and  displaying 
all  kingly  power  and  dignity,  henceforth,  as  the  Messiah  of  God — Himself 
Divine. 

His  baptism  was,  thus,  the  birth-hour  of  Christianity.  Crowds  sunk  in 
national  and  spiritual  degradation,  thronged  the  banks  of  the  Jordan, 
roused  by  the  new  Elias  to  a  sense  of  their  wants,  but  left  to  expectancy 
for  their  future  satisfaction.  They  longed  for  a  last  needful  word,  but 
John  was  unable  to  add  it.  He  could  speak  of  the  approach  of  the  King- 
dom of  God,  but  he  was  only  its  herald,  and  could  not  act  as  its  head,  for 
the  Messiah,  who  was  to  give  it  life  and  form,  was  yet  to  come.  His  work 
was  a  mighty  movement,  with  no  adequate  end  :  his  converts  a  mighty 
host,  without  a  watchword;  his  exhortations  excited  a  deep  yearning, 
which  they  left  unsatisfied.  Such  a  spectacle  must  have  stirred  the  soul 
of  Jesus  to  its  lowest  depths.  Even  before  His  installation  as  the  Messiah, 
He  must  have  pondered  the  condition  of  His  people,  and  longed,  with  all 
the  love  of  His  Divine  nature,  to  heal  their  troubles.  It  must  have  been 
so  even  in  Nazareth.  The  investiture  at  the  Jordan  only  stamped  with 
heavenly  approval  the  purposes  that  had  been  ripening  in  His  breast  from 


278  THE    LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

His  earliest  years.  We  cannot  think  of  one  like  Jesus,  so  profoundly 
religious,  and  so  divinely  compassionate,  as  at  any  time  indifferent  to  tlie 
supreme  question  of  the  reconciliation  of  man  to  God.  The  days  and 
nights  passed,  in  later  years,  in  solitary  prayer,  in  the  wilderness  or  in 
the  mountains,  were,  doubtless,  only  the  repetition  of  far  eai-lier  commun- 
ings with  His  Father,  and  with  His  own  soul.  But  the  Divine  certainty ; 
the  imperative  signal,  that  He  should  rise  and  gird  Himself  to  the  mighty 
task  of  winning  back  the  world  to  God ;  the  awful  summons  for  which  He 
waited  with  hushed  stillness.  He  first  read  in  the  sights  and  revelations  of 
the  Jordan  baiatism.  The  heavenly  consecration  was  the  Divine  sanction 
of  His  long-cherished  but  dimly  realized  purpose.  The  accompaniments 
of  His  baptism  made  Him  the  head  of  the  new  spiritual  theocracy,  and 
laid  on  Him  the  burden  of  giving  Himself  wholly  to  its  establishment. 

Everything  around  corroborated  the  indications  of  the  heavenly  vision. 
The  events  predicted  as  inaugurating  the  advent  of  the  Messiah,  were 
realizing  themselves  before  Him,  for  had  not  Elias  come  again,  in  the 
person  of  John,  and  had  not  the  nation  consecrated  itself,  in  preparation 
for  the  Messiah  ?  He,  only,  was  wanting,  whom  the  times  themselves 
could  not  give :  the  Coiiing  One,  who  should  set  up,  in  its  fulness,  the 
Divine  'Kingdom  already  begun.  IsTo  wonder  that  John,  as  he  daily  an- 
nounced both  the  Kingdom  and  the  Messiah,  with  unwavering  faith,  and 
searched  each  group  that  came  before  him,  in  hopes  of  finding,  at  last,  the 
chosen  of  God,  fixed  his  eyes  with  a  settled  and  clear  conviction  on  Jesus, 
as  Him  for  whom  he  was  looking.  The  attitude  of  the  Baptist  towards 
Him,  was  a  corroboration  of  all  the  rest.  His  own  consciousness  of  being 
the  Eternal  Son  of  God ;  the  spectacle  before  Him ;  the  longings  of  His 
jiity  and  holy  love ;  the  wants  of  the  times ;  and,  above  all,  the  voice  and 
sign  from  Heaven,  made  it  clear,  that  "lowly  in  heart"  as  He  was.  He  was 
nevertheless  the  Messiah. 

The  earliest  chapters  of  the  Gospels  show  with  what  majestic  fulness 
and  dignity  the  Saviour  rose  to  the  height  of  this  great  commission.  Ee- 
cognising  John  as  a  noble  servant  of  God,  He  yet  took  His  place,  from  the 
first,  above  him.  John  stayed  behind  in  his  Jewish  limitations,  leaving 
the  great  work  imperfect,  but  Jesus  from  the  beginning  stood  a  Kin.o-  over 
the  souls  of  men,  dispensing  promises,  scattering  heavenly  gifts,  calming 
fears,  satisfying  the  cravings  of  the  heart,  raising  an  invisible  and  death- 
less kingdom  in  the  human  spirit,  and  bearing  Himself  as,  at  once,  God 
and  man. 

It  is,  of  course,  wholly  beyond  us  to  conceive  the  mental  struggle  im- 
plied in  such  a  position,  when  it  first  opened  before  our  Lord.  It  com- 
mitted Him  to  meet  and  overcome  the  Prince  of  Darkness ;  to  bear  the 
sins  of  the  world,  as  the  spotless  Lamb  of  God ;  to  withstand  the  opposi- 
tion and  hatred  of  men,  their  indifference,  mockery,  misconception,  and 
insensibility  of  heart ;  to  endure,  in  fact,  the  life,  and  at  last  to  die  the 
death,  of  a  martyr.  Still  more,  it  opened  before  Him  an  awful  isolation 
as  the  one  Holy  Being  in  a  sinful  world ;  a  fact  which  might  well  fill  a 
nature  like  His,  of  trembling  sensibility  and  loving  tenderness,  with  over- 
powering emotion.     No  wonder  it  is  said  He  was  driven  by  the  Spirit  into 


THE    TEMPTATION.  279 

the  wilderness.  The  mind  needs  calmly  to  survey  tlie  ground,  aud  gird 
iteclf  up  to  its  task,  planning  its  efforts,  a-id  guarding  against  failure, 
before  entering  on  any  great  enterprise,  and  He  was  "  in  all  tilings  like 
His  brethren."  It  is  in  retirejnent,  and  sacred  communion  with  God  and 
one's  own  soul,  that  we  refresh  ourselves  for  oiu-  greatest  tasks.  It  was 
in  the  solitudes  of  the  mountains  that  Moses  prepared  himself  for  the  work 
of  creating  a  people  for  God.  The  Baptist  came  from  the  wilderness  to 
enter  on  his  work  as  a  Eeformer;  and  St.  Paul,  after  his  conversion, 
secluded  himself  for  three  years,  no  one  knows  whither,  to  make  ready  for 
his  commission  to  the  nations.  The  wilderness,  with  its  sacred  quiet  and 
seclusion,  was  alone  fitted  for  the  retirement  of  Jesus. 

To  what  part  He  withdrew  Himself  is  not  stated,  but  St.  Mark  adds  the 
vivid  note  that  He  was  "  witli  the  wild  beasts,"  which  excludes  the  idea  of 
even  scattered  human  population.  In  this  vast  and  lonely  chamber  of 
meditation  and  prayer  He  remained  for  forty  days,  in  intense  concentra- 
tion of  soul  on  the  work  before  Him.  To  be  alone  was  to  have  every 
thought  rise  in  tiu'n  :  to  have  human  weakness  plead  for  indulgence,  and 
human  fears  counsel  safety.  ISTor  could  He  escape  graver  trials.  The 
Prince  of  Darkness  had,  doubtless,  often  before  attempted  to  overcome 
Him,  for  "  He  was  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are."  It  was  meet 
that  the  Anointed  of  God  should  be  put  to  the  test.  The  struggles  through 
which  the  soul  comes  to  clearness,  power,  and  decision,  are  themselves 
temptations,  for  they  imply  that  the  mind  has  not  yet  emerged  into  the 
calmness  of  settled  triumph.  We  cannot  conceive  of  Jesus  escaping  sug- 
gestions to  have  entertained  which  would  have  been  fatal.  Temptations 
must  needs  enter  the  firmest  and  holiest  soul,  else  it  cannot  be  said  to  be 
tempted  at  all.  They  are  the  more  inevitable  the  greater  the  task  to  be 
undertaken,  and  serve  the  high  end  of  separating  it  from  possible  error. 
To  let  Satan  do  his  worst  was  the  needful  preliminary  to  the  final  over- 
throw of  his  kingdom,  for  success  or  failure  at  the  first  step  determined 
the  future.  ^ 

The  specific  temptations  recorded  in  the  Gospels  belong  to  the  last  days 
of  our  Lord's  seclusion,  for,  as  the  culmination  of  Satan's  assaults,  they 
were  subtly  reserved  till  nature  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  and  the  power 
of  resistance  weakest.  But,  though  critical  hours  in  life  may  justly  be 
regarded  as  especially  times  of  temptation,  an  existence,  like  ours,  which 
is  a  constant  choice  between  good  and  evil,  is,  throughout,  a  probation. 
We  know  little  of  the  spiritual  world,  and  cannot  say  how  far  our  actions 
are  determined  for  evil  by  ourselves,  or  how  far  active  Satanic  influences 
may  affect  us ;  for,  as  in  our  better,  so  in  our  guilty  acts,  the  mind  is  con- 
scious of  a  deliberate  freedom  of  will.  Like  Adam,  we  feel  that  we  are 
"sufficient  to  have  stood,  though  free  to  fall."  Our  character  is  but  the 
stamp  on  our  souls  of  the  free  choice  of  good  or  evil  we  have  made  through 
life.  From  childhood  to  the  grave,  the  road  is  open  to  us  all,  on  either 
side,  from  the  straight  jaath  of  right.  Nor  are  the  only  failures  those  of 
open  act.  The  soul  is,  in  itself,  a  world,  and  evil  thoughts  count  as  acts 
with  the  Eternal,  if  not  at  once  repelled.  Tet  they  must  rise  at  every 
moment,  for  the  choice  of  right  implies  freedom  to  choose  the  opposite. 


280  THE    LIFE    OF   CHBIST. 

Milton  is  true  to  nature  wlien  he  makes  Satan  tell  the  Saviour  that  he  had 
heard  the  angels'  song  at  Bethlehem,  and — 

"  From  tliat  runo  seldom  have  I  ceased  to  eye 
Thy  infancy,  thy  childhood,  and  thy  youth, 
Thy  manhood  last,  though  yet  in  private  bred." 

"  He  was  a  child,  and  grew  in  the  grace  and  faculties  of  His  nature,  like 
another  child,  into  mature  manhood,  struggling  with  the  temptations,  and 
spoiling  the  tempters  of  each  stage  of  life."  The  probation  of  the  desert 
was  only  an  outburst,  more  than  usually  violent,  of  that  which  had  at- 
tended Him,  all  through,  as  a  condition  of  His  humanity. 

There  are,  however,  supreme  moments  of  trial,  victory  in  which  decides 
the  colour  of  our  life,  and  breaks  the  force  of  future  temptations  in  the 
same  directions,  and  such  was  that  of  the  wilderness  retirement.  It  is 
part  of  the  discipline  of  God,  to  make  His  servants  perfect  through  suffer- 
ing, and  the  Son  of  Man,  the  ideal  of  humanity,  could  not  be  made  an 
exception.  Eetirement  was  indispensable  for  i^reparation.  He  needed  to 
survey  His  great  commission  in  all  its  aspects,  to  determine  the  course 
to  be  pursued  in  carrying  it  out,  and  realize  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
He  had  to  expect.  The  transition  from  the  life  of  Nazareth — private, 
calm,  contemplative,  unknown,  industrious  in  a  lowly  vocation— to  that  of 
a  public  teacher,  and,  still  more,  of  the  Messiah  sent  from  God,  raised  a 
multitude  of  thoughts  which  hurried  Him  away  to  solitude,  and  made  Him 
forget,  for  the  time,  even  the  wants  of  nature. 

In  this  commotion  of  the  bosom,  conflicting  resolutions  and  courses 
must  have  readily  been  suggested.  Even  in  the  Scriptures,  opposite 
characteristics  of  the  Messiah  might  seem  to  present  themselves.  The 
future  Saviour  was  pictured  in  one  page  as  triumphing ;  in  another  as 
lowly  and  suffering.  Man  was  to  earn  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow, 
but  Israel  had  been  fed  with  manna,  miraculously  supplied.  Angels  were 
promised  to  protect  the  servants  of  God,  but  it  was  forbidden  to  tempt 
the  Divine  goodness.  The  world  was  promised  to  the  friend  of  God,  and 
on  the  other  hand,  the  mark  of  true  godliness  was  humility. 

Moreover,  had  not  Moses  been  appointed  by  God  as  the  Lawgiver  of 
Israel  ?  Had  not  the  constitution  of  the  nation  as  a  theocracy,  with  its 
Temple  service  and  sacrifices,  been  divinely  instituted  ?  Had  not  a  chosen 
priesthood  been  set  apart  by  God,  and  were  not  the  promises  of  life  and 
prosperity  linked  with  the  observance  of  the  Mosaic  Law  ?  Was  not  the 
promised  Saviour  described  in  Scripture  as  a  Eoyal  Hero,  who  would 
restore  the  glory  and  power  of  the  House  of  David,  and  as  a  Conqueror 
and  Ruler  of  the  nations  ? 

Such  thoughts  must  not  only  have  raised  temptations  and  disturbance  in 
the  mind  of  Jesus  :  they  necessitated  His  breaking  away  utterly  from  the 
traditional  interpretation  of  Scripture  current  in  His  day,  and  forced  Him 
to  take  a  position  of  direct  antagonism,  as  regarded  it,  to  the  whole  body 
of  the  Eabbis,  and  of  the  dominant  Jewish  schools.  There  was,  thus,  no 
other  way  than  to  separate  Himself  in  spirit  from  the  theocracy,  and  pre- 
pare for  a  life  and  death  struggle  with  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  of  the 


THE    TEMrXATION.  281 

nation.  He  must  take  a  position,  iaconceivably  painful  to  a  lowly  and 
pure  soul  like  His,  exposing  Himself  to  the  appearance  of  sinning  against 
God,  and  of  wilful  disobedience  to  His  ordained  representatives.  On  the 
one  hand,  He  had  before  Him  the  allurements  of  a  career  of  success  and 
honour,  witli  wealth,  power,  and  fame  ;  on  the  other,  He  would  be  branded 
as  criminal  and  blasphemous,  and  gain  only  shame,  poverty,  and  death. 
But  through  all  these  clouds.  His  spirit,  like  the  sun,  held  on  in  its  tri- 
umphant coui'se,  to  emerge  in  full  glory,  and  scatter  them  from  its  path. 

It  was  clear  that  the  theocracy  had  served  its  day,  and  could  not  be 
made  the  vehicle  of  the  great  work  Jesus  was  to  inaugurate.  Religion 
had  outgrown  it,  and  demanded  something  loftier,  more  spiritual  and 
more  universal,  and  this  Jesus  had  come  to  supply.  Instead  of  forms  and 
outward  preceiats,  He  was  about  to  announce  the  grand  conception  of  a 
new  Kingdom  of  God — a  kingdom  in  whicli  the  heart  w"ould  Ije  supreme. 
Winning  that  over  to  God  and  holiness.  He  would,  by  it,  transform  man 
into  the  image  of  God,  and  earth  into  that  of  heaven.  His  reign  was  to 
be  that  of  holy  love  in  the  breast,  instead  of  a  worthless  service  of  rites 
and  forms.  The  grandeur  of  such  an  ideal  it  is  impossible  adequately  to 
realize.  Till  then,  outward  priesthoods,  local  temples,  the  slaying  of 
sacrifices,  pompous  rites  and  ceremonial  law  had  been  deemed  essential. 
But  the  consecration  of  Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  not  of  the  Jews  alone,  but 
of  mankind,  made  the  whole  obsolete,  as  incompatible  with  a  universal 
religion.  ISTo  wonder  His  soul  was  well-nigh  over -powered.  He  must 
stand  alone  against  the  Avorld;  must  pass  sentence  on  all  its  religious 
wisdom,  and  must  create  a  new  world  of  spiritual  thought.  The  grand 
originality  of  soul  whicli  this  required,  if  we  may  use  the  word  without 
irreverence,  has  nothing  ajiproaching  it  in  the  history  of  our  race. 

So  vast  a  conception  must  have  raised  endless  questions,  doubts,  and 
struggles,  the  more  it  was  pondered,  and  the  more  all  it  involved  was 
perceived.  But  a  lofty  spiritual  nature  like  His  must  have  raised  Him 
wholly  above  all  the  human  littlenesses  which  turn  the  soul  from  great 
undertakings.  The  thought  of  self-jireservation,  in  the  prospect  of  im- 
measurable danger,  would  not  affect  Him.  He,  who  when  communing 
with  God  forgot  hunger  and  thirst,  and  taught  that  to  be  ready  to  lose 
one's  life  was  a  fundamental  condition  of  interest  in  the  Divine  kingdom, 
had  no  craven  thoughts  of  His  own  safety. 

He  was  infinitively  above  every  consideration  of  personal  interest. 
Neither  the  pleasures  of  life,  nor  the  delights  or  duties  of  His  great  work, 
could  make  Him  value  life  for  the  sake  of  enjoying  them.  Even  at  the 
approach  of  death  the  only  regret  that  escapes  Him  is  that  He  leaves  His 
disciples.  The  tenderly  human  shadow  that  passed  over  His  soul  at 
Gethsemane  and  Calvary,  was  but  the  inevitable  tribute  to  human  weak- 
ness, which  all  must  jdeld.  The  greatness  of  His  task  alone  weighed  Him 
down.  He  stood  single  against  spiritual  and  worldly  powers,  against  a 
people  who,  from  the  days  of  Moses  to  the  last  prophet,  had  shown  them- 
selves lukewarm,  obstinate,  and  slow  to  move,  capricious,  fretful,  and 
spiritually  dead.  The  revival,  under  John,  like  many  before,  promised  to 
be  a  mere  fire  of  thorns. 


282  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Even  what  wc  may  call  the  details  of  His  great  work  must  have  ATeiglied 
heavily  on  Jesus,  in  these  momentous  weeks.  Milton  makes  Him  wander 
Tar  into  the  depths  of  the  desert — 

"Musing  and  mucli  revolving  in  His  breast, 
How  liGst  tlie  mighty  work  He  migbt  begin 
Of  Saviour  to  mankind,  and  wliieli  way  first 
Publish  His  God-like  office,  now  mature." 

The  popular  Jewish  belief  that  the  Messiah  would  be  an  eai^thly  king, 
found  no  response  in  His  bosom,  and  this,  in  itself,  darkened  His  future. 

He  had  seen  the  pressure  put  by  the  Kabbis  on  John,  to  force  him  to 
their  side.  Would  not  His  own  opposition  to  them  cause,  at  least,  in- 
difference and  neglect ;  perhaps,  even  hatred  ?  He  could  only  be  a 
spiritual  Saviour ;  they  wished  a  political.  He  had  no  amljitiou,  and 
contemned  earthly  power.  Even  if  the  people  refused  to  hear.  He  must 
still  witness  to  the  truth.  Then,  should  His  kingdom  be  raised  by  human 
agency,  or  by  the  arm  of  God  ?  Might  not  the  Almighty  think  it  meet  to 
overthrow  all  opposition  of  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  Rome,  and  the  Jewish 
hierarchy,  and  establish  the  new  Divine  kingdom  by  irresistible  force  ? 
But  He  was  not  led  away  by  such  suggestions,  however  specious.  Dis- 
carding all  thought  of  playing  a  great  part  among  men.  He  chose  lowliness 
and  obscurity  for  Himself,  and  the  smallest  beginnings  for  His  kingdom, 
letting  it  win  its  way  slowly  by  the  conquest  of  single  souls,  as  was 
demanded  by  its  very  nature.  It  was  to  rest  on  loyalty  and  love,  which 
must  rise  spontaneously  in  individual  breasts.  Success  and  results  were 
only  subordinate.  His  work  lay  clear  before  Him  :  to  live  and  to  die  as 
the  Lamb  of  God— the  incarnation  of  infinite  love,  attracting  humanity  by 
its  holy  charms  ;  His  life  an  example.  His  death  an  atonement. 

This  was  the  great  result  of  His  long,  secluded,'  wilderness  retirement. 
He  had  surveyed  the  Avhole  ground ;  had  communed  much  with  His  own 
thoughts,  and  above  all,  with  His  Father,  and  came  back  to  the  world  again 
in  victorious  serenity,  to  proclaim  Himself  as  coming  in  the  name  of  God, 
with  no  lingering  fear  of  His  task,  or  of  any  spiritual  or  human  opposition. 

The  mental  struggle  of  these  weeks  must,  in  any  case,  have  been  in- 
tense ;  but  it  became  unspeakably  harder  by  the  presence  of  the  powers 
of  evil,  who  sought  to  overcome  Him  face  to  face,  ll^or  is  this  only 
metaphor.  Jesus,  Himself,  always  assigns  temptation  to  the  direct  action 
j  of  evil  spirits  on  the  soul.  A  subtle  and  mighty  personality  is  always 
i  pre-supposed,  ruling  a  mysterious  kingdom  of  evil,  from  which  he  can 
only  be  cast  out  when  bound  by  one  stronger  than  himself.  As  the 
Messiah,  Jesus  proclaimed  that  He  had  come  to  destroy  the  power  of  this 
great  enemy  of  God  and  man,  and,  throughout  all  His  ministry,  constantly 
assailed  his  kingdom,  casting  out  devils  from  the  possessed,  as,  at  this 
time.  He  bound  and  subdued  Satan  himself. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  an  outward  and  corporeal  presence  of  the 
arch-enemy.  He  is  never  spoken  of  as  visible,  except  when  Jesus  saw  him 
fall,  as  lightning,  from  heaven.  He  is  invisible  when  he  tempts  us,  which 
wo  know  he  does,  for  he  deceives  the  whole  world,  and  there  is  no  need  to 
suppose  that  he  was  present  otherwise  with  our  Lord,  than  by  raising 


THE    TEMPTATION.  283 

suggestions  iu  His  sinless  mind.  To  act  upon  the  thoughts  may  have 
been  the  mode  of  Satan's  attack,  with  Clirist  as  Vv'ith  oui'selves. 

The  three  instances  of  the  great  enemy's  attempts,  recorded  in  the 
GospeLs,  illustrate  the  subtlety  of  his  advances.  Worn  with  hunger, 
Christ  is  approached  with  the  suggestion  that  if,  indeed.  He  Avere  what  He 
claimed  to  be,  the  Son  of  God,  it  was  surely  unnecessary  to  suffer  as  He 
did,  when  by  a  word  He  might  command  that  the  stones  of  the  desert 
around  Him  should  be  made  bread.  To  possess  unlimited  power  for 
specific  ends,  and  refrain  from  using  it  to  our  own  advantage,  even  in  a 
pressing  and  apparently  innocent  case,  is  an  ideal  of  virtue  which  it 
would  be  vain  to  expect  in  any  ordinary  man.  No  temptation  is  more 
difficult  to  resist  than  the  prompting  to  do  what  seems  needful  for  self- 
preservation,  when  abundant  means  are  in  our  hands.  But  Jesus  did  not, 
for  a  moment,  allow  Himself  to  question  His  duty.  The  miraculous  -gifts 
newly  conferred  on  Him,  had  been  given,  not  for  His  private  use,  but  for 
the  glory  of  His  Father ;  not  as  a  human  convenience,  but  as  spiritual  aids 
in  His  work  as  the  Messiah.  As  a  man.  He  was  dependent  on  the  care 
and  love  of  His  Heavenly  Father,  and  to  use  His  miraculous  powers  as 
the  Messiah,  for  His  personal  benefit,  would  be  to  take  Himself  out  of  His 
Father's  hands,  and  to  show  distrust  of  His  loving  care.  But  His  sublime 
trust  in  the  infinite  goodness  and  power  of  God  repelled  the  temptation. 
God  had  brought  Him  hither,  and  would  bring  Him  thence.  Bread  was 
not  the  only  means  by  which  He  could  support  Him.  His  word  could 
create  what  means  He  pleased.  Others  had  been  preserved  by  Him  in 
unforeseen  ways.  The  tribes  in  the  wilderness  had  been  fed  by  manna. 
Moses  and  Elijah  had  been  sustained  in  the  desert,  though  bread  was 
wanting.  It  was  not  for  Him  to  think  Himself  forgotten,  and  to  take  His 
life  into  His  own  hands,  as  if  unsafe  in  God's.  He  would  wait  till  HE 
gave  Him  what  He  chose,  in  the  way  that  pleased  Him. 

The  second  temptation,  following  the  order  in  the  third  Gospel,  was  no 
less  subtle.  The  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah  as  then  understood,  and  as 
Jesus,  no  doubt,  had  from  youth  been  taught,  was  to  be  an  universal 
temporal  dominion.  In  the  solitude  of  the  desert — His  mind  filled  with 
the  thought  of  His  mysterious  consecration  as  God's  Anointed — the 
thought  was  insinuated  by  the  great  enemy,  that  He  might  well  ponder 
what  course  to  pursue.  On  one  hand,  the  path  led  to  supreme  honour  and 
unequalled  glory.  Had  not  the  Psalmist  himself  spoken  of  the  princes 
of  the  earth  as  subject  to  the  Messiah,  and  did  not  the  prophet  say  that 
the  Gentiles  should  come  to  His  light,  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of  His 
rising,  and  that  the  wealth  of  the  world  would  be  brought  to  Him  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  the  way  led  through  shame,  poverty,  neglect,  derision, 
insult,  and  suffering,  in  all  probahility  to  an  ignominious  death.  To 
ordinary  minds,  the  dream  of  ambition  and  splendour  would  have  shone 
with  inconceivable  attractions  against  such  a  background.  But  it  was 
not  left  to  mere  vague  suggestions.  By  that  mysterious  power  which 
spirit  has  of  acting  ujjon  spirit,  the  adversary  raised,  within  the  soul  of 
Jesus,  a  vision  the  most  seductive,  to  enforce  his  subtlety.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  desert  vanished  from  around  Him,  and  that  the  tempter  and  tempted 


284  THE  LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

Oao  stood  together  on  a  high  mountain,  from  -whose  top  the  kindled  fancy 
ap])eared  to  see  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  their  glory.  Milton 
paints  the  vision  with  matchless  power.  Fair  rivers,  winding  through 
rich  pastures  and  fertile  corn-fields ;  hnge  cities,  high  towered,  the  seats 
of  mightiest  monarchies ;  regions  beyond  the  conquests  of  Alexander  to 
the  east,  and  far  as  Eome  to  the  Avest.  Did  not  the  prophets  say  that  the 
rightful  Sovereign  of  all  this  was  God's  Messiah  ? 

But  if  so, — the  foul  suggestion  continued, — how  was  this  world-wide 
empire,  in  which,  as  God's  Anointed,  He  might  reign  in  righteousness, 
blessing  the  nations,  and  filling  the  earth  with  the  knowledge  of  God,  to 
be  gained?  Great  enterprises  need  great  means.  He  was  unknown, 
without  friends,  of  humble  birth,  the  son  of  a  carjienter,  and  bred  up  in 
poverty  in  a  Galileean  village.  Why  not  put  Himself  at  the  head  of  His 
nation,  which  was  ready  to  follow  Him  if  He  displayed  His  glory,  and 
lead  them  against  the  heathen,  using  His  Divine  poAver  to  shatter  all 
opposition  ?  Had  not  God  of  old  divided  the  sea  a^nd  the  rivers,  to  make 
a  path  for  His  people,  led  by  His  prophet  .P  Had  He  not  rebuked  kings 
for  their  sake  ?  Had  He  not  promised  that  the  enemies  of  His  Anointed 
should  be  made  His  footstool,  and  that  He  Himself  would  be  at  His  right 
hand,  in  the  day  of  His  wrath,  to  make  Him  reign  over  the  heathen,  and 
smite  the  people  of  many  lands  ? 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  temptation  more  difficult  to  resist.  Feel- 
ing that,  as  the  Messiah,  He  was  destined  to  universal  monarchy,  and 
conscious  that  His  rule  would  be  the  happiness  of  the  world ;  supported, 
apparently,  by  the  voice  of  prophets  speaking  for  God,  in  the  use  of  force 
to  establish  this  heavenly  empire,  and  Himself  instinct  with  miraculous 
power  which  would  make  resistance  vain,  it'  might  seem  as  if  He  could 
hardly  resist  the  suggestion.  Judas  the  Galitean  had  risen  thus  a  few 
years  before ;  and  his  memory  was  revered.  But  Satan  spread  his  subtlest 
temptations  in  vain.  With  the  self-restraint  becoming  a  sinless  nature, 
Christ  resisted  the  dazzling  vision.  Deliberately  rejecting  the  thought 
of  basing  His  empire  on  force.  He  chose,  with  a  lofty  grandeur  of  soul, 
to  found  it  on  the  love,  rather  than  on  the  fears  or  compelled  submission 
of  mankind.  Having  come,  not  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save  them, 
He  would  use  His  miraculous  power  only  for  good  to  man  and  for  the 
gloT-y  of  His  Father,  trusting  Himself  to  Him,  without  other  defence  or 
care  than  His  unfailing  wisdom  and  love.  The  heavenly  gifts  He  held 
should  never  be  employed  to  bring  merely  jiersonal  advantage  to  Himself. 
As  a  man.  He  was,  and  would  remain,  meek  and  lowly;  His  gifts  as 
Messiah  would  be  used  only  for  spiritual  ends. 

Milton,  with  striking  force,  has  represented  Him  as  saying — • 

"Victorious  deeds 
Flamed  iu  My  heart,  heroic  acts — one  while 
To  rescue  Israel  from  the  Roman  yoke  ; 
Men  to  subdue  and  quell,  o'er  all  the  earth, 
Brute  violence  and  proud  tyrannic  power, 
Till  trutli  were  freed,  and  equity  restored  : 
Yet  held  it  more  humane,  moi'o  heavenly,  first 
By  winning  words  to  conquer  willing  hearts, 
And  make  persuasion  do  the  work  of  fear." 


THE    TEMrTATION.  285 

From  first  to  last,  Jesus  refused  to  exercise  His  supernatural  power  to 
establish  His  kingdom  by  outward  means,  and,  indeed,  it  was  because  of 
His  persistent  refusal  to  do  so  that  His  nation  rejected  Him.  Assent  to 
the  temptation  seemed  to  Him  like  an  act  of  homage  to  the  Prince  of  this 
Avorld,  His  adversary,  for  force  and  violence  are  characteristics  of  his 
sway.  As  the  Prince  of  Peace,  He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  strife. 
The  temptation  lost  its  power  as  He  uttered  the  words  "  Get  thee  behind 
Me,  Satan,  for  it  is  written.  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and 
Him  only  shalt  thou  sei've." 

He  had  now  been  tempted  by  hunger  and  by  ambition  :  there  remained 
another  possible  opening  for  the  enemy  ;  through  the  avenue  of  spiritual 
pride.  Earthly  glory  had  had  no  attractions  for  Him,  but  He  might  bo 
vain  of  His  newly  acquired  Messiahship,  and  willing  to  display  His  super- 
natural powers  for  mere  empty  effect,  and  to  flatter  His  own  self-love. 
To  disguise  the  aim,  a  sacred  gloss  was  at  hand.  Instead  of  evil— com- 
pliance would  only  show,  in  another  form,  that  absolute  dependence  upon 
God,  by  which  he  had  repelled  the  appeal  to  His  natural  wants.  The  arch 
magician  had  In-ought  before  the  eye  of  His  mind,  perhaps  also  of  His  body, 
the  pomp  and  glory  of  the  world.  He  had,  before,  wrought  upon  the 
natural  desire  there  is  in  all  men  for  fame  and  dignity  ;  but  the  vast  allu- 
sion had  been  treated  as  an  idle  show,  unworthy  of  regard.  Would  a  pro- 
posal, however,  to  inaugurate  His  Messiahship  by  what  would  justify  His 
utmost  claims,  be  as  firmly  turned  aside  ?  Jesus  was  no  angel,  or  mere 
spirit  without  human  desires.  It  was  of  the  very  essence  of  His  being  to 
be  touched  and  moved  by  all  that  influences  men  at  large,  and  nothing 
could  be  more  natural  than  at  once  to  vindicate  His  rank  and  authority, 
and  open  the  Avay  for  His  ministrations,  by  some  startling  miracle.  No 
place  was  so  well  fitted  for  such  a  demonstration  as  Jerusalem,  the  holy 
city,  and  no  spot  in  it  so  suitable  as  the  Temple,  the  centre  of  the  national 
religion  and  the  chosen  dwelling-place  of  God.  Miltou  makes  Satan  bear 
our  Lord 

"  Over  the  wilderness,  and  o'er  the  plain ; 
Till,  underneatli  tlaoni,  fair  Jerusalem, 
The  Holy  City,  lifted  bigli  Ler  lowers, 
And  biglier  yet  the  glorious  temple  rear'd 
Her  jjile,  far  off  appearing  like  a  mount 
Of  alabaster,  topp'd  with  golden  spires : 
There,  on  the  highest  pinnacle,  he  set 
The  Son  of  God." 

Some  famous  spire  of  the  Temple  buildings  must  bo  intended,  though 
we  are  no  longer  able  to  explain  the  allusion.  It  may  be  it  was  some 
pinnacle  of  the  great  three-aisled  Eoyal  Porch,  which  ran  along  the 
southern  side  of  the  Temple  area,  overlooking  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  fi-om 
a  dizzy  height.  Perhaps  it  was  the  season  of  one  of  the  great  feasts,  when 
countless  pilgrims  were  gathered  in  Jerusalem,  who  would  carry  the  report 
of  any  miraculous  display  throughout  the  earth.  That  the  suggestion 
raised  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  to  glorify  His  office,  and  lighten  His  great 
work,  by  an  astounding  miracle,  might  seem  natural  and  specioxTS,  is  only 
to  suppose  Him  human ;  and  that  it  should  take  the  form  of  His  casting 


3 


286  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Himself  down  from  au  airy  lieiglit,  to  alight  iu  the  distant  valley  beneath, 
might  seem  no  less  so.  It  is  not  necessary  to  conceive  of  a  bodily  trans- 
lation to  the  Temple  roof:  the  true  place  of  temptation  is  the  soul,  in 
■which  all  the  scenery  and  accessories  of  any  prospect  can  be  created  by 
the  imagination  in  a  moment.  To  make  it  more  attractive,  a  text  of  Scrip- 
ture was  at  hand,  for  had  not  Grod  said,  "  He  shall  give  His  angels  charge 
concerning  Thee,  and  in  their  hands  they  shall  bear  Thee  np  "  ?  So 
Shakespere  makes  Eichard  of  Gloucester  twist  the  sacred  text — 

"  But  tlien  I  sigh,  aud  witli  a  piece  of  Scripture, 
Tell  tbera,  that  God  bids  us  do  good  for  evil. 
And  thus  I  clothe  my  naked  villany 
With  old  odd  ends,  stolen  forth  of  Holy  Writ  j 
And  seem  a  saint  when  most  I  play  the  devil." 

Bassanio's  words  never  had  a  more  fitting  application — • 

"  In  religion 
What  damned  error,  but  sonae_ sober  brow- 
Will  bless  it,  and  approve  it  with  a  test, 
Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament  ?  " 

But  whatever  hope  the  great  enemy  may  have  had  in  this  last  attempt  was 
vain.  To  the  perfect  humility  of  Jesus,  any  idea  of  display  or  ostentation 
had  no  charms ;  nor  could  He,  who  would  rather  bear  the  extreme  of  hunger 
than  seem  to  distrust  His  Heavenly  Father,  by  using  miraculous  power  in 
His  own  behalf,  be  for  a  moment  tempted  to  employ  it  for  any  mere  personal 
honour.  Nor,  moreover,  would  He  dream  of  claiming  supernatural  aid 
from  God  for  that  which  had  not  the  sanction  of  His  command.  His  pro- 
mise of  protection  vouchsafed  aid  only  when  the  danger  to  be  averted  rose 
in  the  discharge  of  prescribed  duty.  The  appeal  to  spiritual  pride  or 
vanity  fell  as  harmlessly  as  tlie  temptations  already  foiled.  It  had  been 
whispered  to  the  soul  of  Jesus,  as  the  vision  rose  before  Him—"  Go  and 
cast  Thyself  down :  is  it  not  written  that  the  augels  shall  bear  Thee  up  "  ? 
But  one  brief  sentence  turned  the  wizard  gold  to  dross — "  Thou  shalt  not 
tempt  the  Lord  thy  God." 

Mysterious  in  some  aspects,  the  wilderness  retirement  of  our  Lord,  with 
its  fires  of  temptation,  putting  Him  to  the  utmost  proof,  becomes  an  in- 
evitable passage  in  His  life,  when  we  think  of  Him  as  a  man  like  ourselves, 
though  sinless.  His  soul  could  reveal  its  beauty  only  by  victory  in  a  life- 
long struggle  with  temptation,  such  as  happens  to  us  all.  Nor  can  we 
think  of  a  Messiah,  who  should  draw  all  men  to  Him  as  the  ideal  of 
humanity,  treading  any  other  jaath  than  that  allotted  to  His  brethren.  It 
is  a  vital  error,  therefore,  to  represent  these  temptations  as  mere  outward 
pictures  of  the  imagination,  playing  before  Him,  or  as  mere  emotions 
of  pleasure  or  aversion  which  left  His  will  nnassailed,  and  Vt'ere  dissipated 
or  quenched  in  a  moment,  on  their  rising.  It  is  no  less  so  to  regard  them 
as  mere  illusions  of  the  senses,  passing  like  clouds  over  His  mind,  and 
leaving  His  inner  being  wholly  undisturbed. 

If  there  had  been  no  more  than  this,  there  could  have  been  no  struggle, 
no  pause  and  agony  of  soul — that  is,  no  real  temptation.  The  Gospels 
know  nothing  of  such  an  unreal  probation.  They  show  us  temptations 
throughout,  plying  His  will,  and  seeking  to  paralyze  it,  even  to  the  length 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE    RtTL'EX   TKOM   THE   AVILDERXESS. 

rn  HE  seclusion  of  Jesus  in  the  desert  bad  been  tbe  turning  point  in  His 
-L  life.  "Wbcn  He  left  L^azaretb  to  visit  Jobn,  Ho  was  a  bumble 
Galilsean  villager.  He  returned,  the  consecrated  Messiah,  no  longer 
oppressed  by  the  responsibilities  and  difficulties  of  His  great  office,  but 
ready  to  come  before  Israel  as  the  Lamlj  of  God,  who  should  take  away  the 
sins  of  the  world. 


I 


THE    IlETUEN    EEOM    THE    WILDERNESS.  287 

of  sug2:estinG;  a  withdrawal  from  His  work  as  the  Messiah.  "What  else  can 
have  caused  His  prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  tears, 
or  the  touching  outburst,  "  Xow  is  My  soul  troubled ;  and  what  shall  I 
say  ?  Father,  save  Me  from  this  hour :  but  for  this  cause  came  I  unto 
this  hour."  He  was  proved  and  tried,  from  His  j^outh  to  Gethsemane,  and,  / 
like  us,  might  have  yielded,  though,  in  fact,  offering  a  transcendent  con- 
trast in  His  unbroken  victory  over  all  temptation. 

The  episode  in  the  wilderness  was,  indeed,  more  subtle  in  its  seductions 
than  is  needed  for  grosser  natures  like  ours.  He  had  to  repel,  as  evil,  what 
to  others  might  have  seemed  the  ideal  of  good.  It  was  no  irresolution, 
from  pride,  or  vanity,  or  fear,  that  troubled  Him  :  His  soul  was  oppressed 
by  the  greatness  of  His  Divine  office  :  His  lowly  humility  was  like  to  sink 
under  its  l)nrdeu.  With  us,  an  act  is  held  sinful,  only  when  it  is  distinctly 
prohibited,  and  at  every  step  we  hesitate  to  reject  where  there  seems  room 
to  doubt.  With  Jesus  there  was  no  such  waving  line  of  compromise.  To 
deviate  from  the  direct  command  of  God,  for  any  end,  however  holy,  was, 
to  Him,  a  sin.  The  contrast  of  Divine  and  human,  or  Satanic,  rose  before 
Him  with  such  a  clear  decision,  that  the  least  divergence  from  the  express 
letter  of  His  Father's  will  was  instantly  rejected.  He  turned  away  from 
what  the  noblest  souls  before  Him  had  cherished  as  holy  visions,  as  from 
temptations  of  the  Prince  of  Darkness.  He  not  only  triumphed,  but 
showed,  in  His  perfect  obedience  to  His  Heavenly  Father,  an  image  of  the 
ideal  and  stainless  holiness  required  from  us  all. 

This  Divine  purity,  inflexible,  unswerving,  moving  ever  directly  for- 
ward, acknowledging  only  The  Eight, — rejecting  all  else ;  and  finding 
peace  only  in  complete,  loving  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  rests  with 
uniciue  glory  over  all  the  life  of  Jesus,  but  especially  over  His  temptation 
in  the  desert.  It  gives  the  sujireme  beauty  to  His  life,  and  was  its 
strength  and  power.  There  could  be  no  hesitation  where  all  was  thus  sim- 
plified :  where  only  God,  or  the- world  and  the  devil,  beckoned  onAvards. 

Through  life,  as  in  the  wilderness.  His  choice  was  instinctive  and  instan- 
taneous, between  God  and  sin.  Good  and  evil  were  to  Him,  light  and 
darkness,  and  it  was  vain  to  tempt  Him  even  to  approach  the  cloudy, 
doubtful,  dividing  line.  The  desert  had  served  its  purpose.  The  crisis 
had  passed.  Yielding  Himself  into  the  hands  of  God,  His  spiritual 
struggle  was  exchanged  for  the  joys  of  angel  ministration. 


288  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Can  we  picture  to  ourselves  tlie  pcrsoual  appearance  of  the  Saviour  at 
this  momentous  point  in  His  career  ?  We  know  that  He  was  still  in  the 
glory  of  early  manhood,  but  can  we  realize  Him  more  closely  ? 

It  is  fatal  to  the  hope  of  a  reliable  portrait,  that  the  Jewish  horror  of 
images  as  idolatrous,  extended  to  the  likeness  of  the  human  face  or  form. 
No  hint  of  Christ's  appearance  is  given  in  the  New  Testament ;  and  the 
early  Church,  in  the  absence  of  all  guiding  facts,  had  to  fall  back  on 
imagination.  Itself  sorely  oppressed,  it  naturally  pictured  its  Founder 
through  the  medium  of  its  own  despondency.  Had  He  been  an  illustrious 
Romaji  or  Greek,  the  Grecian  love  of  beauty  would,  doubtless,  have  created 
an  ideal  of  faultless  perfection;  but  in  its  first,  dark  years,  the  sorely-tried 
Church  fancied  their  Lord's  visage  and  form  as  "  marred  more  than  those 
of  other  men,"  and  that  He  must  have  had  no  attractions  of  personal 
beauty.  Justin  Martyr  speaks  of  Him  as  without  beauty  or  attractiveness, 
and  of  mean  appearance.  Clement  of  Alexandria  describes  Him  as  of  an 
uninviting  appearance,  and  almost  repulsive.  Tertullian  says  He  had  not 
even  ordinary  human  beauty,  far  less  heavenly.  Origen  went  so  far  as  to 
say  that  He  was  "  small  in  body  and  deformed,  as  well  as  low-born,"  and 
that  "  His  only  beauty  was  in  His  soul  and  life."  About  the  same  time, 
however,  the  Christian  Gnostics,  who  had  not  such  an  antipathy  to  heathen 
art,  began  to  make  likenesses  of  Him  of  another  type,  in  paintings,  gems, 
or  metal,  and  small  statues  of  Him,  which  they  crowned  and  honoured  in 
the  heathen  fashion.  The  features  were  said  to  have  been  copied  from  a 
portrait,  fancifully  thought  to  have  been  taken  by  order  of  Pilate.  The  ideal, 
however,  prevailed  more  and  more,  for  the  half-heathen  sects  who  used 
these  likenesses  had  the  Greek  feeling  that  the  gods  must  needs  be  divinely 
beautiful.  In  the  third  century  the  conception  thus  invented  found  its 
way  into  the  private  chapel  of  the  emperor  Severus,  by  the  side  of  illus- 
trious kings  and  emperors,  and  of  "  the  holy  souls,"  of  Abraham,  Orpheus, 
Apollonius,  and  other  worthies.  It  is  possible  that  degrading  caricatures 
of  Jesus,  which  had  become  common  among  the  heathen,  led  to  this  nobler 
conception  of  His  beauty. 

The  triumph  of  Christianity  over  heathenism  found  a  partial  revenge  in 
the  footing  gained  in  the  Church  for  a  more  kindly  estimate  of  what  had 
now  lost  its  religious  power.  The  first  Christian  art  bearing  on  Jesus — 
that  of  the  catacombs — Avas,  however,  jiurely  symbolicaL  The  figure  of  a 
fish  stood  for  His  name,  from  the  significance  of  the  letters  in  the  Greek 
word  for  one  of  the  finny  race,  or  He  was  re]3resented  by  the  symbol  of  a 
lamb,  or  of  a  shepherd.  After  a  time,  the  further  ideal  of  a  teacher  of 
mankind  was  added,  and,  gradually,  in  the  fourth  century.  He  was  pictured 
as  a  child,  after  which  it  was  an  easy  step  to  portray  Him  on  the  Cross. 
With  the  general  introduction  of  such  likenesses,  the  idea  of  any  repulsive 
appearance  was  necessarily  irreconcilable.  Eusebius,  of  Ctesarea,  describes 
a  statue  which  he  himself  saw  at  Pauias,  or  Csesarea  Philippi,  the  reputed 
birthplace  and  residence  of  the  woman  who  was  healed  of  the  issue  of 
blood.  "  At  the  gates  of  her  house,"  says  he,  "  on  a  raised  pedestal,  stands 
a  brazen  image  of  a  woman  on  her  bended  knee,  with  her  hands  stretched 
out  before  her  like  one  enti-eating.     Opposite  her  is  an  image  of  a  mau 


THE    RETURN   FROM   THE    WILDERNESS.  289 

erect,  of  the  same  materials,  in  a  full  pallium,  stretching  out  his  hand  to 
the  woman."  "  Before  her  feet,"  he  adds,  "  and  on  the  same  pedestal,  a 
strange  kind  of  plant  grows,  which  rises  as  high  as  the  hem  of  the  brazen 
garment,  and  is  an  antidote  to  all  kinds  of  diseases.  This  statue,  they  say, 
is  a  statue  of  Jesus  Christ."  Unfortunately,  the  credulity  which  believed 
in  the  miraculous  plant  is  a  poor  guarantee  for  the  worth  of  a  vague, 
popular  fancy  as  to  the  statue.  It  was,  doubtless,  a  relic  of  Grecian  art, 
transformed  by  a  fond  reverence  into  a  memorial  of  Jesus.  There  can  be 
no  doubt,  however,  that  paintings,  claiming  to  be  actual  resemblances  of 
our  Lord,  of  Peter,  and  of  Paul,  were  to  be  found  in  the  time  of  Euscbius, 
for  he  says  that  he  himself  had  seen  them,  and  thought  them  old  thanks- 
memorials  of  devout  heathen  who  had  reverenced  Christ  and  honoured 
Him  in  this  way,  as  they  were  accustomed  to  honour  their  own  gods. 

The  old  conception  of  the  appearance  of  Jesus,  borrowed  from  the  words 
of  Isaiah,  had  now  finally  given  place  to  one  which  exalted  His  beauty  to 
the  utmost,  as  the  natural  outward  expression  of  the  Divine  purity  and 
perfection  of  His  inner  being.  Gregory  of  Nyssa  applies  the  imagery  of 
the  Song  of  Solomon  to  His  person,  no  less  than  to  His  doctrine.  Jerome 
embodies  in  his  words  the  glorious  ideal  which  Christian  art  was  after- 
wards to  develop,  basing  the  thought  of  Him  no  longer  on  the  description 
of  the  suffering  "  servant  of  God,"  in  Isaiah,  but  on  the  words  of  the  forty- 
fifth  Psalm— "  Thou  art  fairer  than  the  children  of  men."  "Assuredly," 
says  he,  "  that  splendour  and  majesty  of  the  hidden  Divinity,  which  shone 
even  in  His  human  countenance,  could  not  but  attract,  at  first  sight,  all 
beholders.  Unless  He  had  had  something  heavenly  in  His  appearance, 
the  Apostles  would  not  immediately  have  followed  Him."  Chrysostom 
tells  us  that  "  the  Heavenly  Father  poured  out  on  Him,  in  full  streams, 
that  personal  beauty  which  is  distilled  only  drop  by  drop  upon  mortal 
man ; "  and  Augustine,  with  his  wonted  vigorous  eloquence,  says  that 
"  He  was  beautiful  in  His  mother's  bosom,  beautiful  in  the  arms  of  His 
parents,  beautiful  on  the  cross,  and  beautiful  in  the  sepulchre."  But  that 
this  glowing  language  was  only  metaphor  is  beyond  dispute,  from  the 
words  of  Augustine  himself.  "  Of  His  a^ipearance,"  says  he,  "  we  are 
wholly  ignorant,  for  the  likenesses  of  Him  vary  entirely,  according  to  the 
fancy  of  the  artist."  Different  races  had  already  created  distinct  and 
different  ideals,  in  harmony  with  their  local  standards  of  perfection.  The 
old  conception  of  His  being  without  form  or  beauty  did  not,  however,  at 
once  lose  its  power.  St.  Basil  clung  to  it  strenuously,  and  the  monks  of 
his  order  are  said  to  have  reproduced  it  in  paintings  so  late  as  the  eighth 
century.  The  austere  Cyril  of  Alexandria  went  so  far  as  to  maintain  that 
He  was  "  mean  in  appearance  beyond  all  the  sons  of  men,"  a  proof,  in  its 
very  contrast  with  the  then  prevailing  conception,  that  there  was  no 
historical  portrait  to  which  to  appeal,  nor  even  a  traditional  ideal  respect- 
ing our  Lord's  appearance. 

Images  of  Clmst  met  at  first  with  earnest  opposition,  partly  because  ib 
seemed  impossible  adequately  to  rein^esent  the  glorified  Saviour  in  human 
form,  and  partly,  no  doubt,  because  heretic  sects  were  the  first  to  introduce 
them.     Cyril  of  Alexandria  is  credited  with  having  brought  them  into  the 

u 


290  THE   LIFE    OE   CHRIST. 

service  of  the  Cliui'cli.  Once  in  some  measure  sanctioned,  their  nsc, 
especially  in  the  East,  spread  far  and  wide,  and  legends  were  invented  to 
sup]:)ort  their  authenticity  as  likenesses  of  the  Saviour.  John  of  Damascus, 
in  his  fiery  zeal  in  the  great  controversy  on  the  use  of  images,  sought  to 
paralyze  the  opposition  of  the  iconoclast  emperor  Oonstantine  Ooprouymus, 
by  bringing  forward  a  legend,  vrhich  we  first  meet  at  the  close  of  the  fifth 
century,  that  Abgarus,  king  of  Edessa,  had  once  sent  a  painter  to  Jesus 
to  take  His  portrait,  but  the  artist  failed,  from  the  dazzling  brightness  of 
the  Saviour's  features.  Jesus,  the  legend  went  on  to  say,  honouring  the 
spirit  that  had  prompted  the  attempt,  impressed  His  likeness  on  the  cloth 
with  which  He  was  wont  to  wipe  His  brow,  and  sent  it  to  Abgarus.  But 
though  a  letter  of  Abgarus  to  Jesus,  and  of  Jesus  to  Abgarus,  are  noticed 
by  Justin  Martyr,  as  early  as  the  middle  of  the  second  centux-y,  this 
wondrous  story  of  the  miraculous  portrait  appears  only  as  an  addition  of 
centuries  later. 

ISTot  to  be  outdone,  the  Western  Church  created  its  own  version  of  this 
wondi'ous  legend  in  that  of  Veronica,  a  fabled  saint  of  Jerusalem,  who, 
seeing  Jesus  pass  on  His  way  to  Calvary,  His  face  streaming  with  the 
blood  of  the  crown  of  thorns,  unwound  the  cloth  of  her  turban  and  gave 
it  Him  that  He  might  wipe  His  brow.  In  returji,  it  is  said,  the  loving 
disciple  received,  on  the  cloth,  an  imprinted  likeness  of  her  Lord,  not 
calm  and  peaceful,  however,  like  that  of  Edessa,  but  saddened  by  pain  and 
sorrow.  A  third  miraculous  likeness,  embracing  Christ's  whole  body,  was 
averred  to  have  been  left  on  the  linen  in  which  He  was  wrajiped  in  the 
sepulchre,  and  it  was  said  that  this  passed  into  the  possession  of  Nico- 
demus,  and  then  to  the  Christians  of  Jerusalem,  from  whom,  after  passing 
through  wonderful  fortunes,  it  was  brought  at  last,  in  the  year  1.578,  to 
Turin,  Avhere  it  now  is.  Yeronica's  cloth  is  now  in  St.  Peter's,  at  Home, 
though  Milan,  in  northern  Italy,  and  Jaen,  in  Spain,  both  boast  that  they 
have  the  authentic  relic. 

The  earliest  images  of  Christ,  as  has  been  said,  were  those  introduced 
among  the  Gnostics,  and  of  these,  two,  at  least,  with  some  claim  to  authen- 
ticity, are  still  extant.  Like  the  images  of  Pj'thagoras,  Plato,  Aristotle, 
and  other  sages,  which  these  strange  sects  consecrated  along  with  that 
of  the  Saviour,  they  are  small,  and  rather  medallions  than  busts.  The 
one  is  of  stone,  with  a  head  of  Christ,  young  and  beardless,  in  profile — the 
name  xp'crros  (Christos)  in  Cxreek  characters,  and  the  symbolical  fish,  below. 
"J'he  other  is  a  kind  of  medal,  representing  Christ  with  His  hair  parted 
over  His  forehead,  covering  the  cars,  and  falling  do-^vn  on  the  shoulders. 
It  has  the  name  of  Jesus,  in  Hebrew,  below  it.  Perhaps  it  was  the  work 
of  some  Jewish  Christian.  In  the  fifteenth  century,  the  historian  Nice- 
phorus  ventm-ed  on  a  fuller  sketch  of  the  person  of  Christ  than  had  been 
previously  given,  and  it  may  be  well  to  quote  it,  if  only  to  re]n'oduce  the 
conception  formed  by  the  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages.  "  I  shall  describe," 
says  Nicephorus,  "  the  appearance  of  our  Lord,  as  handed  down  to  us  from 
auticpiity.  He  Vv^as  veiy  beautiful.  His  height  was  fully  seven  spans ; 
His  hair  was  bright  auburn,  and  not  too  thick,  and  it  was  inclined  to  wave 
iu  soft  curls.     His  eyebrows  were  black  and  arched,  and  His  eyes  seemed 


THE   EETURN   PEOSI   THE   WILDERNESS.  291 

to  shed  from  them  a  geutle  golden  light.  They  were  very  beautifuL  His 
nose  was  prominent ;  His  beard  lovely,  but  not  very  long.  He  wore  His 
hail',  on  the  contrary,  very  long,  for  no  scissors  had  ever  touched  it,  nor 
any  human  hand,  except  that  of  His  mother  when  she  played  with  it  in 
His  childhood.  He  stooped  a  little,  but  His  body  was  well  formed.  His 
complexion  was  that  of  the  ripe  bro^^oi  wheat,  and  His  face,  like  that  of 
His  mother,  rather  oval  than  round,  with  only  a  little  red  in  it,  but  through 
it  there  shone  dignity,  intelligence  of  soul,  gentleness,  and  a  calmness  of 
spirit  never  disturbed.  Altogether,  He  was  very  like  His  divine  and 
immaculate  mother." 

What  the  imaginary  description  of  Christ  by  Nicephovus  has  been  in 
the  Eastern  Church,  that  of  the  fictitious  letter  of  Lentulus  to  the  Eomau 
Senate  has  been  to  the  Western.  It  first  appeared  at  the  close  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  when  the  works  of  Anselm  were  collected  and  printed, 
and  is  the  forgery  of  some  monk  who  sought  a  good  end  by  one  of  the 
pious  frauds  then  very  widely  in  favour.  The  internal  evidence  alone 
shows  that  it  is  a  mere  fabrication,  and  as  even  ISTicephorus  makes  no 
allusion  to  it,  its  date  may  safely  be  assumed  as  later  than  his  lifetime. 
"There  has  appeared,"  says  Lentulus,  "and  still  lives,  a  man  of  great 
virtue,  called  Jesus  Christ,  and,  by  His  disciples,  the  Son  of  God.  He 
raises  the  dead,  and  heals  the  sick.  He  is  a  man  tall  in  stature,  noble  in 
appearance,  with  a  reverend  countenance,  which  at  once  attracts  and  keeps 
at  a  distance  those  beholding  it.  His  hair  is  waving  and  curly;  a  little 
darker  and  of  richer  brightness,  where  it  flows  down  from  the  shoulders. 
It  is  divided  in  the  middle,  after  the  custom  of  the  ISTazareues  (or  ISTazarites). 
His  brow  is  smooth,  and  wondrously  serene,  and  His  features  have  no 
wrinkles,  nor  any  blemish,  while  a  red  glow  makes  His  cheeks  beautiful. 
His  nose  and  mouth  are  perfect.  He  has  a  full  ruddy  beard  the  colour 
of  His  hair ;  not  long,  but  divided  into  two.  His  eyes  are  bright,  and 
seem  of  different  colours  at  different  times.  He  is  terrible  in  His  threat- 
enings;  calm  in  His  admonitions;  loving  and  loved;  and  cheerful,  but 
with  an  abiding  gravity.  Is^o  one  ever  saw  Him  smile,  but  He  often  w^eeps. 
His  hands  and  iiml:)s  are  perfect.  He  is  gravely  eloquent,  retiring,  and 
modest,  the  fairest  of  the  sons  of  men." 

It  may  be  interesting  to  add  to  these  older  ideals  that  of  a  writer  of  the 
present  day.  "  Onr  eyes  were  restlessly  attracted  to  Him,"  says  Delitzsch, 
in  one  of  his  beautiful  stories,  "  for  He  was  the  centre  of  the  group.  He 
was  not  in  soft  clothing  of  byssus  and  silk,  like  the  courtiers  of  Tiberias 
or  Jerusalem,  nor  did  He  wear  long  trailing  robes,  like  some  of  the 
Pharisees,  On  His  head  was  a  white  kefSyeh— a  square  of  linen  doubled 
so  that  a  corner  fell  down  on  each  shoulder,  and  on  the  back;  a  fillet  or 
aghul  round  the  head,  keeping  it  in  its  place.  On  His  body  He  wore  a 
tunic  which  reached  to  His  wrists  and  to  His  feet,  and  over  this  a  blue 
tallith,  with  the  prescribed  tassels  of  blue  and  white  at  the  four  corners, 
hung  down  so  that  the  under  garment,  which  was  grey  striped  with  red, 
was  little  seen.  His  feet  shod  with  sandals,  not  shoes,  were  only  visible 
now  and  then,  as  He  walked  or  moved." 

"  He  was  a  man  of  middle  size ;  beautiful  as  a  youth  in  His  face  and 


292  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

form.  The  purity  and  charm  of  early  manhood  blended  in  His  connte- 
nance  with  the  rij^eness  of  mature  years.  His  complexion  was  fairer  than 
that  of  those  around  Him,  for  it  shoAved  less  of  the  bronze  colour  of  the 
nation.  He  seemed,  indeed,  even  pale,  under  the  white  sudar,  for  the 
ruddy  glow  of  health,  iisual  at  His  years,  was  wanting.  The  type  of  His 
features  was  hardly  Jevvish,  but  rather  as  if  that  and  the  Greek  types 
blended  into  a  perfect  beauty,  which,  while  it  awakened  reverence,  filled 
the  heart,  still  more,  with  love.  His  eyes  looked  on  you  with  light  which 
seemed  broken  and  softened,  as  if  Ijy  passing  through  tears.  He  stooped 
a  little,  and  seemed  communing  with  His  own  thoughts,  and  when  He 
moved,  there  was  no  affectation,  as  with  some  of  the  Eabbis,  but  a  natural 
dignity  and  grace,  like  one  who  feels  himself  a  king,  though  dressed  in 
lowly  robes." 

We  owe  our  knowledge  of  the  period  immediately  following  the  Tempta- 
tion to  the  narrative  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  written  after  the  others.  In 
the  other  Gospels,  the  splendour  of  the  later  ministry  in  Galilee  seems  to 
have  overshadowed  the  humbler  beginuings  of  the  earlier  period,  so  that 
they  are  almost  passed  over  by  them.  Happily,  however,  John  pre- 
serves for  us,  in  comparative  detail,  tlie  incidents  of  these  silent  months, 
in  which  the  public  life  of  Jesus  was  slowly  opening  into  full  flower.  How 
much  would  have  been  lost  had  his  record  not  been  given  ?  There  is  a 
peculiar  charm  in  the  glimpses  they  supply  of  the  early  spring-time  of  the 
Saviour's  ministry  ;  a  tender  fragrance  all  their  own. 

The  first  great  crisis  of  His  life  being  over,  with  its  forty  days  of  tempta- 
tion and  proof,  its  long  fasting,  its  great  victor}^,  and  its  ministrations  of 
angels,  Jesus  returned  to  the  Jordan,  and  mingled,  unnoticed  and  unknown, 
in  the  crowd  round  the  Baptist.  It  was  appai'ently  the  early  spring;  at 
least,  a  fine  tradition  of  the  primitive  Church  would  have  it  so,  perhaps  to 
link  together  the  opening  spiritual  year  with  the  beauty  of  the  reviving 
year  of  natui-e.  He  may  have  held  communion  once  and  again  with  John, 
but  He  lived  apart  from  him,  silently  passing  to  and  fro  among  the  mul- 
titudes. Only  the  day  before  His  arrival,  John  had  renewed  his  homage 
to  Him  in  His  absence,  before  a  deputation  from  the  ecclesiastical  authori- 
ties of  the  Temple,  sent  to  investigate  his  own  teaching  and  authority. 
"  Was  he  the  Christ  ?  or  Elijah  ?  or  the  expected  prophet,  Isaiah,  Jere- 
miah, or  some  other?"  The  nobly  humble  man,  tliough  at  the  height  of 
his  glory,  with  the  nation  looking  up  to  him,  in  reverence,  as  a  prophet, 
had  no  thought  of  hesitation  in  his  answer.  Jesus  was  unknown,  but  John 
yields  Him  the  first  place,  and  proclaims  himself  unworthy  to  perform  the 
lowliest  offices  for  One  so  exalted.  "  I  am  only  he  of  whom  Isaiah  speaks, 
as  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,  '  Make  straight  the  Avay  of  the  Lord.' 
I  only  baptize  with  water,  but  there  stands  among  you  One  whom  ye  know 
not — He  who  is  to  come  after  me  :  I  am  not  worthy  to  kneel  before  Him 
to  loose  the  thong  of  His  sandal."  The  symbol  of  servitude  and  subjec- 
tion offered  by  a  slave  to  a  new  master  was  to  untie  his  shoe  and  bind  it 
again,  but  even  this  was  too  great  an  honour,  in  John's  opinion,  for  him  to 
be  permitted  to  pay  to  Christ. 

The  Baptist  had  often  borne  similar  testimony,  liftiug  np  his  voice  and 


THE    RETURN    FROM    THE    WILDERNESS.  293 

crying  aloud  to  tlie  people  to  prepare  for  the  speedy  manifestation  of  the 
Great  Expected  One, — bnt,  now,  ho  was  able  to  liear  witness  to  Him  in 
His  presence.  As  he  was  staudhig  the  next  daj^  among  his  followers, 
Jesus  Himself  apjn'oached,  doubtless  to  speak  Avitli  him  on  the  affairs  of 
the  kingdom  of  God,  in  which  both  were  so  entirely  engrossed.  He  was 
still  unknown,  unrecognised,  and  imnoticed,  and  He  would  not  reveal  Him- 
self by  any  act  of  self-assertion  on  His  own  part.  But  the  very  end  of 
John's  mission  was  that  the  Christ  should  "  be  made  manifest  to  Israel," 
and  the  hour  had  now  come  to  draw  aside  the  veil.  Pointing  to  Him, 
therefore,  while  yet  at  a  distance,  he  proclaimed  His  glory  in  words  which 
must  have  thrilled  those  who  heartl  them  :  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  who 
takes  away  the  sin  of  the  world.  This  is  He  of  v/hom  I  said,  '  After  me 
comes  a  Man  who  is  preferred  before  me,  for  He  was  before  me.'  And  I 
knew  Him  not  (as  the  Messiah) ;  but  that  He  should  be  made  manifest  to 
Israel,  therefore  am  I  come  baptizing  with  water.  I  have  seen  the  Spirit 
descending  as  a  dove  out  of  heaven,  and  it  abode  upon  Him.  And  I  knew 
Him  not  (as  the  Messiah) ;  but  He  that  sent  me  to  baptize  with  water,  the 
same  said  unto  me,  '  Upon  whom  thou  shalt  see  the  Spirit  descending,  and 
remaining  on  Him,  He  it  is  who  baptizes  with  the  Holy  Spirit.'  And  I 
have  seen  and  borne  witness  that  this  is  the  Son  of  God." 

It  is  possible,  as  Milman  suggests,  that  flocks  of  lambs,  intended  for  the 
Temple  sacrifices,  then  passing  from  the  rich  pastures  of  Perea  to  the  ford 
beside  which  John  was  baptizing,  may  have  suggested  the  name  "  Lamb 
of  God,"  }jy  which  he  consecrated  to  the  Church,  for  ever,  that  most 
cherished  symbol  of  the  Redeemer.  Jesus  was  meek  and  gentle  like  the 
lamb,  but  there  was  much  more  in  the  use  of  such  a  name  by  the  son  of  a 
priest — a  Nazarite  and  a  prophet,  like  John.  The  idea  of  sacrifice  was 
natural  and  inevitable  to  him,  in  connection  with  it.  The  nation,  indeed, 
in  Christ's  day,  had  so  little  idea  of  a  suffering  and  dying  Messiah,  that 
Jonathan  Ben  Uzziel,  the  contemjjorary  of  Christ,  while  he  sees  the  Mes- 
siah in  the  "  Servant  of  God,"  of  Isaiah's  jDrophecies,  ingeniously  explains 
His  sufferings  as  meaning  those  of  Israel.  But  the  number  of  passages 
which  spoke  of  the  Messiah  as  suffering,  even  then  arrested  attention,  and 
raised  a  difficulty  which  the  Rabbis  of  a  later  day  ti'ied  to  solve  by  assum- 
ing that  tliere  would  be  two  Messiahs — one,  the  son  of  Joseph,  who  should 
suffer  and  die ;  the  other,  the  son  of  David,  who  should  live  and  reign. 
Even  then,  the  Rabbis  saw  in  the  words  of  Zechai'iah,  "They  shall  look  on 
Him  whom  they  have  pierced,"  and  in  the  words  of  Isaiah,  in  his  fifty- 
third  chapter,  a  reference  to  the  Messiah,  and,  hence,  the  Jew,  in  Justin's 
dialogue,  written  about  a  hundred  years  after  Christ,  saw  nothing  sur- 
prising in  the  idea  of  the  Messiah  suffering,  though  he  revolted  from  the 
thought  of  His  dying  in  a  way  cursed  by  the  Law,  like  crucifixion,  a  difli- 
culty  met  with  by  St.  Paul  himself. 

John,  who  had  studied  Isaiah  so  deeply,  and  was  so  penetrated  by  his 
spirit,  could  not  have  overlooked  those  verses  which  speak  of  the  "  Sei'vant 
of  God,"  as  "  brought  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,"  and  as  "  bearing  the 
iniquities  of  many,"  and  "  making  intercession  for  the  transgressors,"  nor 
the  words  of  Zechariah,  which  even  the  Rabbis  referred  to  the  Messiah. 


294  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

But  Ms  langnage,  after  the  return  of  Jesus  from  the  wilderness,  shows  a 
striking  contrast  to  his  previous  tone.  Before  that,  he  spoke  of  the 
Messiah  only  as  having  the  fan  in  His  hand,  and  as  laying  the  axe  at  tlie 
root  of  the  tree,  and  baptizing  with  fire  as  well  as  the  Spirit.  Now,  he 
sees  in  Him  the  meek,  spotless,  and  patient  Lamb,  destined  l)y  God  to 
sacrifice.  That  He  was  to  "  take  away  the  sin  of  the  world,"  leaves  no 
question  as  to  the  sense  in  which  John  saw  in  Him  the  "  Lamb  of  God." 
Isaiah  had  painted  "  the  Servant  of  God  "  as  making  peace  for  the  people, 
by  His  vicarious  sufferings  for  them,  and  this  "  Servant "  John  sees  in 
Jesus.  Fitly  typified  Ijy  "  the  Lamb,"  from  His  gentle  patience.  He  is  still 
more  so,  as  the  Antitype  of  Old  Testament  sacrifice.  To  exclude  the  idea 
of  expiatory  suffering,  is  to  trifle  with  the  words  of  the  Baptist,  and  the 
ingenious  fancy  that  finds  an  allusion  to  the  pastoral  imagery  of  the 
twenty-third  Psalm,  is  even  more  arbitrary.  John  saw  in  Jesus  the  pro- 
pitiation, which  was,  even  then,  bearing  and  carrying  away  the  sin  of  the 
world. 

How  was  it  that  Jolm  realized  so  much  more  clearly  than  any  around 
him  the  true  ideal  of  the  Messiah,  as  the  sacrificial  Lamb,  appointed  of 
God,  on  whom  had  been  laid  the  sins  of  a  guilty  woidd?  It  can  be 
explained  only  by  remembering  that  his  very  mission  was  to  reveal  Him 
to  the  world.  For  this,  he  tells  us,  he  had  been  sent,  and  his  commission, 
therefore,  implied  a  disclosure  to  him,  not  only  of  the  person,  but  the  true 
work  of  the  Messiah.  We  know  that  revelation  from  above  pointed  out 
Jesus  to  him  by  a  heavenly  sign,  and,  from  the  same  source,  we  may 
assume,  he  learned  the  groat  truth  that,  as  the  Messiah,  He  would  expiate 
the  sin  of  the  world  by  His  sufferings.  It  may  be  that  Jesus  Himself 
talked  with  him  of  "  His  decease,  which  he  should  accomplish  at  Jeru- 
salem." But  this,  itself,  would  be  a  revelation.  Only,  however,  by  com- 
munication from  a  higher  source,  could  the  idea  have  been  formed  of  a 
suffering  Messiah — an  idea  so  alien  to  the  conceptions  of  the  day,  though 
dimly  realized  by  individuals  like  the  aged  Simeon,  or  Zacharias,  to  whom 
a  proiihetic  insight  had  been,  for  the  moment,  given.  "  We  have  heard 
out  of  the  Law,"  said  the  people  to  Jesus  Himself,  "  that  the  Christ 
abideth  for  ever" — that  is,  should  never  die— "and  how  sayest  Thou,  '  The 
Son  of  Man  must  bo  lifted  up  ?  '  Who  is  this  son  of  Man  ?  "  It  was  in 
the  face  of  such  a  universal  contrast  of  thought,  that  John  announced  the 
great  truth,  with  clear  and  precise  distinctness,  noting  even  its  having 
already  begun,  and  its  future  world-embracing  greatness.  The  more 
strange  the  idea  of  a  suffering  Messiah  might  be  to  the  nation  ;  the  more 
difficult  it  proved  to  bring  it  home  even  to  the  disciples  themselves  ;  the 
more  it  needed  to  be  slowly  developed  by  the  facts  of  Christ's  life  and 
death,  to  secure  its  being  understood  ; — so  much  the  more  justified  is  the 
l)clief  in  a  special  revelation  throwing  light  into  the  Baptist's  soul,  on  the 
full  meaning  of  ancient  prophecy. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that,  with  all  these  heavenly  revel- 
ations, the  knowledge  of  John  was  as  minute  and  definite  as  that  of  those 
whose  minds  the  teachings  of  Jesus  afterwards  illuminated  from  above, 
A  generation  later,  some  disciples  of  John,  living  at  Ephesus,  when  asked 


THE    EETUEN    Fr.OM    THE    WILDERNESS.  295 

by  Paul,  "  If  they  bad  received  the  Holy  Ghost  since  thej^  believed  ?  " 
answered  that  thej'  had  not  so  much  as  heard  of  there  being  any  Holy 
Ghost  at  all.  The  Jews  of  John's  day  thought  of  the  Holy  Spirit  only 
vaguely,  as  the  "  Spirit  of  Jehovah" — the  effluence  of  the  Divine  power 
and  grace,  and  we  owe  it  to  the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles  that  we  now 
liave  clearer  concejitions. 

John  had  pointed  to  Jesus  as  "  the  Lamb  of  God,"  and  had  thus,  doubt- 
less, fixed  the  attention  of  those  around  on  one  associated  with  a  symbol 
so  sacred  and  tender.  But  lie  did  not  confine  himself  to  a  title  not  yet 
familiar,  as  addressed  to  the  Messiah,  and  added  another  which  had  already 
been  appropriated  to  Him  in  the  literature  of  the  nation — "  I  saw,  and 
bare  record  that  this  is  the  Son  of^ God."  The  Sibylline  verses,  the  Book 
of  Enoch,  and  the  Fourth  Book  of  Esdras,  had,  for  generations,  applied 
this  title  to  the  expected  Messiah,  and,  thus,  there  could  be  no  misappre- 
hension in  the  mind  of  any  who  heard  it  given  to  Jesus.  It  was  His 
formal  proclamation  by  the  appointed  herald. 

It  scorned  as  if  this  wondrous  testimony  liad  been  lost  on  those  who 
heard  it;  but  though  the  multitude  took  little  hoed  of  it,  thei'o  were  some 
hearts  in  which  it  found  a  woi'thy  response.  The  nest  day,  as  John  was 
f-tanding  with  two  of  his  disciples,  Jesus  again  passed,  and  was  proclaimed 
anew  in  the  same  words.  Fixing  his  eyes  earnestly  on  Him,  John  called 
on  his  companions  to  "  behold  the  Lamb  of  God."  It  was  enough.  Thcj' 
might  not  realize  the  full  import  of  the  name,  but  they  felt  the  Divine 
attractiveness  of  Him  to  whom  it  was  given.  AVaiting  with  anxious  hearts 
for  the  Messiah,  they  no  sooner  heard  John  proclaim  that  Jesus  was  He, 
than  they  forthwith  left  the  Baptist,  to  follow  Him  whom  he  thus 
honoured. 

Jesus,  Himself,  now  about  to  begin  His  j^ublic  ministry,  was  ready  to 
receive  disciples.  He  had  jDermanently  abandoned  His  obscure  life  of 
Nazareth,  and  was,  henceforth,  to  be  a  Eabbi  in  Israel. 

The  teachers  of  the  day  were  surrounded  by  an  inner  circle  of  disciples, 
able,  in  some  measure,  in  the  absence  of  their  masters,  to  represent  them 
in  public,  by  speaking  in  the  synagogues,  answering  ciuestions,  or  under- 
taking missionary  journej's,  and  these  were  to  be  the  duties  of  the  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus.  They  were  to  be  trained  by  Him  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
Kingdom,  as  those  of  t-lie  Eabbis  were  in  the  mysteries  of  the  Law.  No 
teacher  assumed  his  office  in  Israel  without  a  group  of  such  followers,  for 
it  was  reckoned  a  grave  sin  for  a  Eabbi  to  be  at  any  time  without  some 
one  to  instruct  in  the  LaAv,  and  even  their  scholars  were  required  to 
converse  hal)itually  on  this  one  study  of  their  lives.  "  "Wlien  two  scholars 
of  the  wise,"  says  the  Talnmd,  "are  making  a  journey  together,  and  do  not 
make  the  Law  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  they  deserve  to  be 
biirned  alive,  as  is  wi'itten  in  2  Kings  ii.  11."  It  was,  therefore,  only  an 
adoption  of  the  custom  of  the  day  which  Jesus  now  followed. 

The  two  who  now  joined  Him  seem  to  have  hitherto  formed  part  of  such 
an  inner  circle  round  John,  and  were  the  beginning  of  a  group  of  trusted 
friends,  with  whom  Jesus  could  associate,  and  of  auxiliaries  in  His  great 
work,  while,  also,  a  nucleus  round  which  otliers  might  gather.     He  drew 


296  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

them  to  Him,  however,  iu  a  way  new  and  significant,  for  He  did  not  wait 
till  they  asked  leave  to  attend  Him,  and  did  not  court  their  aid,  l)ut  called 
on  them  to  follow  Him ;  retaining,  thus,  a  relation  of  superiority  even  in 
this  detail. 

He  could,  hence,  more  freely  admit  them  to  the  most  endearing  and 
familiar  intimacy ;  and  speak  of  them,  before  long,  as  His  friends,  His 
brethren,  and  even  His  children  and  little  ones,  though,  also.  His  servants. 
He  had  chosen  them,  not  they  Him ;  and  thus  He  could  the  better  train 
them  to  be  teachers  in  His  New  Society,  alluring  the  world  to  it  by  the 
example  of  their  lives,  or  spreading  it  by  their  ministrations.  Standing 
towards  them  iu  a  relation  so  dignified,  they  were  at  once  His  companions, 
and  the  ageuts  whom  He  could  employ  as  diligent  fishers  of  men,  and 
labourers  in  the  great  vineyard  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Though,  like  the  Eabbis,  a  teacher  of  the  nation,  iu  the  streets,  in  the 
houses,  and  iu  the  synagogues,  as  the  custom  of  the  day  required,  Jesus 
did  not  try  to  gain  His  immediate  followers  f  j'om  that  order,  or  from  their 
disciples,  for  He  had  little  sympathy  with  them.  He  rather  sought  simple 
children  of  the  people,  free,  as  far  as  possible,  from  prejudice  and  self- 
sufiiciency,  and  marked  only  by  their  sincerity,  humility,  intellectual 
shrewdness,  and  religious  sensibility.  The  less  they  knew  of  the  schools, 
the  less  they  would  have  to  unlearn  ;  the  more  they  derived  from  Him, 
the  more  undoubting  their  loyalty  to  Him.  He  found  the  class  He  wanted, 
mostly  in  lowly  fisherman  aud  peasants. 

Of  the  first  two  discijjles,  the  one  was  Andrew,  a  fisherman,  from 
Bethsaida,  on  the  Lake  of  Galilee  ;  the  other,  doubtless,  was  John  himself, 
a  native  of  the  same  town — though,  with  his  wonted  modesty,  he  with- 
holds his  name.  'No  wonder  he  remembered  every  incident  of  his  intro- 
duction to  Christ  so  minutely,  after  many  years,  for  it  was  the  birth-hour 
of  his  religious  life.  Very  probably  the  proposal  to  join  the  new  teacher 
came  from  him,  and,  if  so,  he  was  the  first  to  follow  Jesus,  as  he  was  the 
last  to  leave  Him.  The  two  had  heard  Him  announced  as  the  Lamb  of 
God,  and  as  such  they  sought  Him.  Can  we  wonder  that  the  name  be- 
came such  a  favom-ite  with  one,  who,  hereafter,  was  the  beloved  disciple, 
that  we  find  it  in  his  writings  alone,  or  that  he  repeats  it  in  the  Apocalypse 
more  than  thirty  times  ? 

The  two  followed  Jesus,  anxious  to  speak  to  Him,  but  in  modest  difficulty 
how  to  approach  Him.  Their  embarrassment,  however,  was  brief,  for 
Jesus,  hearing  their  footsteps  behind  Him,  and  judging,  with  the  quick 
instinct  of  sympathy,  that  He  was  being  sought  for  the  first  time,  turned 
and  spoke  to  them.  Asking  them  what  they  seek.  He  is  answered  in  their 
confusion,  by  the  counter-question,—"  Eabbi,  where  dwellest  Thou  ? " 
The  multitudes  attending  such  gatherings  as  John's  preaching,  were  wont 
to  run  up  temporary  booths  of  wattled  boughs,  with  a  striped  abba,  or 
outer  cloak,  thrown  over,  for  cover,  and  some  one  had  given  Jesus  a  share 
in  such  a  shelter,  for  it  is  not  likely  that  there  were  houses  near.  Eabbis 
Oil  their  journeys  were  always  welcome  to  hospitality,  and  He  was  already 
regarded  as  one,  by  at  least  a  few.  The  title  had  been  given  even  to  John, 
as  it  now  was  to  Jesus,  for  although  the  authorities  at  Jerusalem  dis- 


THE    RETURN   FROM    THE    WILDERNESS.  297 

countenanced  those  who  had  not  studied  in  the  schools,  and  the  people  half 
distrusted  any  teaching  which  did  not  address  them  with  that  sanction, 
the  recognition  was  never  withheld  where  evident  knowledge  of  the  Law, 
or  worthiness  to  teach,  was  seen.  Jewish  traders  and  Galilajan  teachers, 
who  had  no  diploma  from  the  schools  of  Jerusalem,  were  accepted  as 
Eahbis  in  Rome  ;  and  in  Palestine,  the  dignity  and  wisdom  of  Jesus  drew 
forth  towards  Him  the  title  of  Eabbi  and  Teacher,  not  only  from  the 
people  and  the  disciples,  but  even  from  the  Pharisees  and  Eabbis  them- 
selves. 

The  simple  words  of  invitation,  "  Come  and  see,"  were  enough  to  open 
the  relationship  between  Jesus  and  hearts  so  eager  to  know  more  of  Him, 
and,  presently,  they  were  witli  Him,  where  He  dwelt.  The  day  passed 
Cjuickly,  for  they  did  not  mark  the  hours,  as  time  stretched  on  from  noon, 
when  they  had  come,  till  towards  night.  His  discourse.  His  teaching,  and 
His  whole  Being,  excluded  all  other  thoughts.  If  any  doubt  respecting 
Him  had  remained,  it  soon  passed  away.  Both  were,  henceforth.  His 
followers,  and  both  equally  recognised  in  Him  the  promised  Messiah.  The 
night  approached,  but  neither  was  willing  to  leave.  They  had  found  rest 
to  their  souls.  All  day  long,  and  into  the  quiet  watches  of  the  night,  they 
had  listened  to  His  first  oioening  of  His  great  message  of  mercy  from  the 
Father,  and  they  would  fain  hear  still  more.  But,  as  Jeremy  Taylor  puts 
it—"  in  accidents  of  the  greatest  pleasure,  our  joys  cannot  be  contained 
within  the  limits  of  the  possessor's  thoughts."  Andrew  had  a  brother, 
Simon,  and  longed  to  bring  him  to  Jesus.  Retiring,  therefore,  for  a  time, 
he  soon  returned  with  him  in  company.  It  was  a  matter  of  the  gravest 
moment,  on  the  one  side,  that  a  right  choice  of  disciples  should  Ijo  made, 
and  it  was  no  less  momentous  on  the  other,  that  there  should  be  no  self- 
deception  ;  but  on  neither  side  was  there  long  hesitation,  or  cautious 
inc{uiry,  or  demand  for  evidence  of  character,  or  ci-afty  wariness.  Every- 
thing  was  simple  and  direct,  in  all  the  fulness  of  mutual  confidence  and 
trust.  To  see  Jesus,  and  hear  Him  speak,  was  enough,  and  He,  on  His 
part,  "  needed  not  that  any  should  testify  of  man  :  for  He  knew  what  was 
in  man."  Looking  steadfastly  at  Simon,  He  saw  in  him,  as  in  John  and 
Andrew,  the  characteristics  He  required  in  His  followers.  The  rare  un- 
bending firmness  of  purpose,  the  tenacious  fidelity,  the  swift  decisiveness, 
the  Galila^an  fire  and  manliness,  and  the  tender  religiousness  of  spirit, 
which  marked  him.  to  the  end  of  his  life,  were  read  at  once.  Jesus  had 
found  in  him  His  firmest,  most  rock-like  servant  and  confessor  ;  the  man 
Avho,  from  this  first  moment — except  for  one  sad  instant — amidst  all 
changes  and  trials,  and  the  ever-growing  storms  of  the  woi'ld,  would  never 
be  untrue  to  Him.  "  Thou  art  Simon,"  said  He,  "  the  son  of  Jonas. 
Henceforth  thou  shalt  be  called  '  The  Rock.'  "  ISTo  wonder  that  he  is  best 
known  as  Cephas,  or  Peter,  the  Aramaic  and  Greek  equivalents  of  this 
honourable  distinction.  The  Christian  Church  was  already  founded  in 
these  three  disciples. 

With  the  fine  modesty  of  his  nature,  John  says  nothing  of  himself  in 
relation  to  a  day  so  eventful  in  his  history.  The  kingly  soul  of  Jesus 
evidently  enchained  him  at   once.     Henceforth,  he  was  altogether   His, 


298  THE    LIFE 

tliougli,  for  a  time,  dismissed  to  his  home.  But,  once  more  permitted  to 
follow  Ilim,  ho  is  ever  found  at  His  side,  forgetting  himself  in  his  love 
for  his  Master,  and  lost  in  the  contemjjlation  of  His  life  and  words.  We 
do  not  know  the  stages  by  which,  from  this  moment  onwards,  his  faith  in 
the  Saviour  grew,  till  it  reached  that  hleiiding  of  soul  with  soul,  in  inmost 
love,  which  made  him,  to  the  end  of  his  long  life,  the  ideal  disciple. 
Writing  last  of  all,  he  allows  himself  to  be  seen  only  twice  in  the  story  of 
his  Master— now,  when  he  came  with  Andrew,  as  the  first  to  join  Christ, 
and  at  the  close,  on  Calvary,  when  he  lifts  the  veil  for  a  moment  from  the 
unique  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  his  Lord. 

The  earliest  traditions  join  his  brother  James  with  John,  as  one  of  the 
very  first  disciples,  for  though  John,  from  the  same  delicacy  as  shrank 
from  speaking  of  himself,  does  not  mention  his  brother's  name,  the  other 
three  Gospels  always  number  him  with  the  earliest  adherents  of  Jesus. 
There  can  be  little  question  that,  as  Andrew  went  to  seek  his  brother 
Simon,  John  also  brought  James  to  Jesus.  The  intimation  that  Andrew 
went  first  on  his  errand  of  love,  seems  to  leave  us  to  infer  that  he  himself 
went  next. 

The  four  disciples  had  it  in  common  that  they  belonged  to  the  same 
town,  Bethsaida,  that  they  were  of  the  fisher  population,  and  that  both 
families  were  in  a  comparatively  prosperous  position.  We  know  nothing 
of  the  father  of  Andrew  and  Simon,  but  James  and  John  were  the  sons  of 
one  Zabdai,  and  we  know,  from  comparison  of  texts,  that  their  mother  was 
Salome,  so  honourably  mentioned  in  the  Gospels.  Writers  so  acute  as 
Ewald  have  seen  in  her  a  sister  of  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  and,  if  so, 
John  and  James  were  cousins  of  their  Master.  If  it  be  correct  to  honour 
Salome  thus,  she  was  present  with- Mary  at  the  crucifixion.  In  any  case, 
she  belonged  to  the  number  of  pious  souls  ready  to  accept  a  spiritual 
Messiah,  and  hence  her  sons  must  have  received  the  priceless  blessing  of 
a  godly  training  and  example.  It  seems  as  if  we  could  almost  trace  the 
beloved  disciple  in  the  character  of  a  mother,  who  "  ministered  to  Jesus 
of  her  sidjstance  "  while  He  lived,  and  did  not  forsake  Him  even  wlien  He 
hung  on  the  cross. 

To  begin  His  piiblic  career  in  a  way  so  humble  and  unostentatious,  was 
in  strict  keeping  with  the  Avoi'k  and  character  of  Christ.  It  was  easier  for 
Him  to  train  a  fevf,  and  gradually  raise  them  to  the  high  standard  required 
in  His  immediate  followers.  That  His  first  adherents  were  attracted  only 
by  religious  considerations,  tended  to  guard  against  any  seeking  to  join 
Him  who  were  not  moved  to  do  so  by  a  true  spiritual  sympathy — itself  the 
pledge  of  their  fitness  for  disciples.  To  have  drawn  around  Him  great 
multitudes  by  a  display  of  supernatural  povv'ers,  would  have  destroj^ed  all 
His  plans,  for  lie  could  have  found  no  such  sympathy  in  crowds  thus 
gathered.  Having,  therefore,  begun  with  the  lovvly  l^and  of  four.  He 
turned  His  thoughts  once  more  towards  home,  and  set  out  with  them  next 
day  to  Galilee.  A  fifth  disciple  joined  Him  on  the  homeward  journey- 
Philip,  a  townsman  of  the  others.  ISTothing  is  told  of  the  circumstances, 
though  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  had  heard  of  Jesus,  either  from  the 
Baptist,  to  whom,  like  the  others,  he  seems  to  have  gone  out ;  or  from  the 


THE    EETUEN   FROM   THE   WILDERNESS.  299 

four,  as  they  travelled  with  liini  on  his  own  return.  The  simple  Tvords 
"  Follow  me,"  so  often  uttered  afterwards,  were  enough  to  add  him  to  the 
little  companj'. 

The  family  of  JMary,  in  which  we  no  longer  hear  any  mention  of  Joseph 
— now,  apparently,  dead  for  a  number  of  years,  seems  at  this  time  to  have 
left  Nazareth  for  a  short  sojourn  at  Cana,  a  village  a  few  miles  directly 
north  of  its  own  town,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hills  behind  it.  A  little 
later,  Capernaum  was  chosen  instead,  but  it  was  to  Cana,  not  Nazareth, 
that  Jesus  returned  from  the  Jordan.  It  lay  ujion  an  almost  isolated  hill, 
rising  proudly  above  the  pasture-land  of  the  little  valley  of  El  Battauf, 
and  was  afterwards  a  place  of  some  importance,  in  the  last  Jewish  war, 
from  its  strong  position. 

Jesus  and  his  companions  had  scarcely  reached  it,  before  Philip,  full  of 
natural  joy  at  his  discovery  of  tbe  Messiah  in  Jesus,  sought  out  a  friend 
who  lived  in  Cana,  Nathanael  by  name,  to  let  him  know  that  he  had  found 
Him  "  of  whom  Moses  in  the  Law,  and  the  prophets  wrote — Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  the  Sou  of  Joseph."  Nazareth  was  only  a  few  miles  off,  but  so 
privately  had  Jesus  lived  in  it  that  the  name  was  new  to  Nathanael,  and 
the  town,  besides,  had  a  questionable  name.  "  Can  any  good  thing,"  asked 
he,  "  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  " 

Jesus  had  won  Peter  by  the  greeting  which  had  made  him  feel,  that,  by 
a  knowledge  bej-oud  human.  He  had  already  fixed  His  eye  on  him,  before 
His  coming,  as  a  future  disciple.  A  similar  display  of  supsrhuman  know- 
ledge now  kindled  faith  in  Nathanael.  As  he  approached,  Jesus  greeted 
him  as  "  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  there  was  no  guile."  A  glance  had 
been  enough  to  show  that  he  was  one  whose  simplicity  and  uprightness  of 
spirit  marked  him  as  a  member  of  the  true  Israel  of  God.  Nathanael  felt 
that  he  was  known,  but  wondered  how  Jesus  could  have  learned  about  him. 
A  few  words  more,  and  he  was  gained  for  ever.  He  had  been  sitting  alone, 
under  the  fig-tree  before  his  house  or  in  his  garden,  hidden,  as  he  thought, 
from  all,  when  Philip  spoke  to  him.  '•  Before  that  Philip  called  thee," 
said  Jesus,  "  when  thou  wast  under  the  fig-tree,  I  saw  thee."  The  first 
words  had  struck  him ;  but  these,  recalling  the  moments  just  gone,  when, 
very  likely,  he  had  been  pondering  the  misery  of  Israel,  in  his  fancied 
seclusion,  and  longing  for  the  Great  Deliverer, — showed  that  his  inmost 
soul  had  been,  all  the  while,  open  to  the  eye  of  Jesus,  and  completed  the 
conquest  of  his  soul.  "  Eabbi,"  said  he,  "  Thou  art  the  Son  of  God ;  Thou 
art  the  King  of  Israel."  He  felt  that  the  heart  of  the  Messiah  of  God  had 
turned  tenderly  towards  him,  even  before  they  had  met. 

The  simple,  prompt  faith  of  Nathanael  was  no  less  pleasing  to  Jesus 
than  honouring  to  himself.  There  was  something  so  fresh,  so  fervent,  so 
full-hearted  in  his  words,  now  at  the  very  beginning  of  Christ's  public 
work,  that  thej^  won  a  reply  alike  gracious  and  sublime.  "  Becaiise  I  said 
unto  thee,  I  saw  thee  under  the  fig-tree,  believest  thou  ?  Thou  shalt  see 
greater  things  than  these."  Far  higher  grounds  of  faith  would,  hence- 
forth, be  granted ;  for,  from  this  time,  "  the  heavens  would  be  seen,  as  it 
were,  open,  and  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  the  Son 
of  Man," — the  name  consecrated  to  the  Messiah  from  the  days  of  Daniel, 


300  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST, 

and  now  permanently  appropriated  by  Jesus.  When  He  begins  His  work 
in  its  full  activity,  there  will  be  no  longer  a  momentary  opening  of  heaven, 
as  lately  on  the  Jordan,  but  a  constant  intercourse  between  it  and  earth, 
as  of  old  in  the  vision  of  Jacob  ;  heavenly  ministrations  bringing  countless 
blessings  down,  and  bearing  back  the  tidings  of  the  work  of  mercy,  in 
reconciling  man  to  God.  Language  like  this  is,  of  course,  metaphorical. 
It  may  be  understood  literally,  in  one  or  two  cases,  in  the  Saviour's  history, 
but  He  cannot  have  referred  to  these.  He,  rather,  spoke  of  the  connection 
between  earth  and  heaven,  which  He  had  opened.  They  would  be  no 
longer  isolated  from  each  other.  Intercourse  between  them  was  henceforth 
renewed,  never  again  to  cease ;  intercourse,  at  first,  between  Him  and  His 
Father,  but  gradually  spreading  over  the  earth,  as  men  caught  His  image, 
and  reproduced  His  spirit.  The  angels  descending  from  heaven  with  gifts 
for  the  Son  of  Man  to  dispense  to  His  brethren,  would  be  visible  to  all 
who  saw  the  results  in  His  kingdom  over  the  earth. 

Nathanael's  name  does  not  occur  in  the  list  of  the  Apostles,  but  it  has 
been  assumed  from  the  earliest  times  that  he  was  Bartholomew,  who  is 
always  named  next  to  Philip.  It  was  a  Jewish  custom  to  change  the 
name  when  a  public  profession  of  religion  was  made.  "  Four  things,"  says 
R.  Isaac,  "have  power  to  change  a  man's  destiny — alms,  prayer,  change 
of  heart,  and  change  of  name."  We  have  instances  of  such  a  change  in 
that  of  Simon,  who  is  also  indifferently  mentioned  as  Peter,  and  as  the  son 
of  Jonas,  and  in  Barnabas,  whose  proper  name  was  Joses.  Nathanael  may 
have  been  the  personal  name,  while  Bartholomew  was  simply  an  allusion 
to  him  as  the  son  of  Talmai. 


CPIAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   OPENING   OF   CIIKISt's   FUi?IIC    MINISTRY. 

r  I  HIE  plain  of  El  Battauf — on  a  hill  in  which  rose  the  village  of  Cana, 
-*-  now  utterly  forsaken — stretches  out  in  a  pleasant  rolling  green  sea, 
embayed  in  a  framework  of  softer  or  steeper  hills.  On  the  south,  the 
whitewashed  tomb  of  a  Mohammedan  saint  marks  the  top  of  the  hill  be- 
hind Nazareth,  and  a  little  to  the  west  of  this,  the  ruined  tower  of 
Sepphoris  rises  from  a  lower  ridge.  Entering  the  plain  from  the  north, 
the  first  village  is  Kefr  Menda,  with  its  deep  spring,  the  water  of  which  is 
carefvilly  kept  for  use  in  the  hot  summer ;  rain  water,  collected  in  an  open 
pool,  being  used  at  other  times.  The  flat  roofs  of  many  of  the  poor 
cottages  show  frail  shelters  of  wattled  wands  and  twigs,  the  sleeping  places 
of  the  inmates  below,  in  the  sultry  summer  nights.  They  are,  doubtless, 
the  counterparts  of  the  booths  of  branches  of  olives,  pines,  myrtles,  palms, 
and  other  trees,  which  the  ancient  Jews,  in  ISTehemiah's  day,  made  on  their 
house-roofs  in  Jerusalem,  at  the  Feast  of  Tabei-nacles. 

The  plain  undulates  for  two  and  three  miles,  in  alternate  sheets  of  grass 
and  grain,  from  Kefr  Menda  t©  Sefuriyeh,  the  ancient  capital  of  Galilee, 
the  "  bird-like  "  Sepphoris.     Several  broad  caravan  roads,  which  lead  to 


THE    OPENING   CF    CHRIST'S    PUBLIC   MINISTRY.  301 

the  fords  of  the  Jordan,  cross  it ;  groves  of  figs  and  olives  fringe  the 
southern  edge  and  parts  of  the  slopes  of  the  hill  on  -which  Sef  uriyeh  stands. 
One  overtakes  asses  bearing  heavy  loads  of  rich  grass  to  the  village,  some 
of  them,  perhaps,  with  an  ear  cropped  off ;  the  penalty  allowed  to  be  in- 
flicted by  any  peasant  who  has  caught  it  feeding  in  his  unprotected  patch 
of  grain.  Sefuriyeh  is,  even  still,  a  large  and  prosperous  village,  stretch- 
ing out  on  the  western  and  southern  slopes  of  its  hill.  A  half-fallen  tower, 
of  great  antiquity,  crowns  the  height,  and  from  its  top  the  eye  ranges  over 
a  pleasant  landscape — the  soft  green  plain,  the  fig  and  olive  groves 
fringing  it,  Kefr  Menda  to  the  north,  Caua  of  Galilee  a  little  further  east, 
and,  to  the  south-east,  the  white  tomb  on  the  hill  of  JSTazareth ;  a  southern 
sky,  with  its  deep  blue,  overarching  all.  It  is  a  delightful  idyllic  picture, 
on  the  small  scale  that  marks  everything  in  Palestine. 

Cana — "  the  reedy  place  " — as,  no  doubt,  the  first  settlers  found  the  plain 
below,  before  it  was  drained  and  cultivated,  is  now  so  utterly  desolate  that 
it  is  the  favoui'ite  hunting  ground  of  the  neighbourhood ;  even  leopards 
being  met  at  times  among  its  broken  houses,  while  the  wild  boar  and  the 
jackal  find  haunts  in  the  thick  jungle  of  oak  coi^pice  on  the  slopes  of  the 
wadys  around.  The  houses  are  built  of  limestone,  and  some  of  them  may 
have  been  inhabited  within  the  last  fifty  years.  Sepp  found  the  whole 
sjiace  on  which  the  village  seemed  to  have  stood,  only  about  a  hundred 
paces,  each  way.  "  I  met,"  says  he,  "  not  a  living  soul ;  not  even  a  dog  : 
the  watchman  one  never  misses  in  Palestine  was  not  there  to  give  a  sound. 
My  step  echoed  through  the  deserted  little  street  and  open  square,  as  if 
in  the  dead  of  night ;  only  flies  held  their  marriage  rejoicings  in  the 
sunshine ;  while  a  splendid  rainbow  stretched  over  the  ruined  tower  of 
Sepphoris." 

It  was  very  different  in  the  days  when  Jesus  came  to  Cana,  after  His 
visit  to  the  jireaching  of  John,  on  the  Jordan.  A  marriage  was  afoot  in 
the  circle  of  Mary's  friends;  possibly  of  her  connections.  That  She  and 
Jesus  were  invited  to  the  usual  rejoicings,  and  that  they  accepted  the  in- 
vitation, marks  the  worth  of  those  who  had  given  it,  for  the  presence  of 
the  saintly  mother  and  her  Son  at  such  a  time,  are  a  pledge  that  all  that 
was  innocent  and  beautiful  characterized  the  festivities. 

A  marriage  in  the  East  has  always  been  a  time  of  great  rejoicing.  The 
bridegroom,  adorned  and  anointed,  and  attended  by  his  groomsmen, 
"  the  sons  of  the  bridechamber,"  went,  of  old,  as  now,  on  the  marriage  day, 
to  the  house  of  the  bride,  who  awaited  him,  veiled  from  head  to  foot,  alike 
from  Eastern  ideas  of  propriety,  and  as  a  symbol  of  her  subjection  as  a 
wife.  A  peculiar  girdle — the  "  attire  "  which  a  bride  could  not  forget — 
was  always  part  of  her  dress,  and  a  wreath  of  myrtle  leaves,  either  real, 
or  of  gold  or  gilded  work — like  our  wreath  of  orange  blossoms — was  so 
indispensable  that  it  came  to  be  used  as  a  term  for  the  bride  herself.  Her 
hair,  if  she  had  not  been  married  before,  was  left  flowing  ;  her  whole  dross 
was  perfumed,  and  she  glittered  with  as  many  jewels  as  the  family  boasted, 
or,  if  poor,  could  boi'row  for  the  occasion.  Her  bridal  dress,  her  special 
ornaments,  the  ointment  and  perfumes  for  her  person,  and  presents  of 
fruit  and  other  things,  had  been  received  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day 


302  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST, 

from  the  bridegroom ;  the  bride,  on  her  jjart,  sending  him,  as  her  prescribed 
gift,  a  shroud,  -which  he  wore,  as  she  did  hers,  on  each  New  Year's  Day 
and  Day  of  Atonement.  Tlie  Kabbis  had  fixed  Wednesday  as  the  day  on 
which  maidens  should  be  married,  and  Friday  for  widows,  so  that,  if  the 
bride  at  Cana  was  now  married  for  the  first  time,  vre  know  the  day  of  the 
week  on  which  tlie  ceremony  took  jDlace.  She  might  be  very  young,  for 
girls  become  wives  in  the  East  when  twelve  or  fourteen,  or  even  younger. 
The  bridegroom  and  bride  both  fasted  all  day  before  the  marriage,  and 
confessed  their  sins  in  jDrayer,  as  on  the  Day  of  Atonement.  When  the 
bride  reached  the  house  of  her  future  husband's  father,  in  which  the  mar- 
riage was  celebrated,  the  bridegroom  received  her,  still  deeply  veiled,  and 
conducted  her  witiiin,  with  great  rejoicings.  Indeed,  he  generally  set 
out  from  his  father's  house  in  the  evening  to  meet  her,  with  flute-players 
or  singers  before  him ;  his  groomsmen,  and  others,  with  flaring  torches 
or  lamps,  escorting  him  amidst  loud  rejoicing,  which  rose  still  higher  as 
he  led  her  back.  ISTeighbours  thronged  into  the  streets.  Flutes  and  drums 
and  shrill  cries  filled  the  air,  and  the  i^rocession,  as  it  passed  on,  was 
swelled  by  a  train  of  maidens,  friends  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  who 
had  been  waiting  for  it.  The  Talmud  has  preserved  a  snatch  of  one  of  the 
songs  sung  by  the  bridesmaids  and  girls  as  they  danced  before  the  bride, 
on  the  way  to  the  bridegroom's  house.  In  a  free  translation  it  runs  some- 
thing like  this  : — 

"  Her  eyelids  are  not  stained  with  blue, 
Her  red  cheeks  are  her  own ; 
Her  hair  hangs  wavinj?  as  it  grew, 
Her  grace  were  wealth,  alone ! " 

In  the  house  of  the  bridegroom's  father,  which  was,  for  a  time,  the  home 
of  the  young  couple,  things  went  men-ily ;  a  feast  being  23repared,  to  which 
all  the  friends  and  neighbours  were  invited.  It  was  an  essential  part  of 
the  ceremony,  for  even  so  early  as  Jacob's  day,  "  to  make  a  feast  "  had  be- 
come the  common  expression  for  the  celebration  of  a  marriage. 

The  bride  did  not  join  in  this  festivity,  however,  but  remained  apart, 
among  the  women,  shrouded  in  the  long  white  veil  of  betrothal ;  unseen, 
as  yet,  even  by  her  husband.  ISTor  did  she  take  any  part  in  the  subsequent 
amusements,  or  show  herself  at  all.  It  was  only  when  husband  and  wife 
were  finally  alone,  that  the  veil  was,  for  the  first  time,  removed. 

Meanwhile,  the  family  rejoicings  went  on  apace.  The  feast  was  provided 
at  the  cost  of  the  bridegroom,  and  continued  usually  for  seven  days,  with 
the  greatest  mirth.  The  bridegroom  wore  a  crown,  often  of  flowers— the 
crown  with  v.diich,  in  the  Song  of  Solomon,  it  is  said,  "  his  mother  crowned 
him  in  the  day  of  his  espousals,  in  the  day  of  the  gladness  of  his  heart  " — 
and  sat  "  decked,  like  a  priest,  in  his  ornaments ;  "  the  bride  sitting  in  the 
women's  apartment,  "adorned  with  her  jewels."  Singing,  music,  and 
dancing,  merry  riddles,  and  the  play  of  wit,  amused  the  guests,  night  after 
night  while  the  feast  was  prolonged,  and  it  was  only  after  the  excitement 
had  worn  itself  out,  that  life  settled  down  again  into  colourless  monotony. 

It  was  to  some  such  festivity  that  Jesus  had  been  invited  v.-ith  His  five 
disciples.     The  earthen  floor  and  the  ledge  round  the  wall  would  be  spread 


THE    OPENING    0?    CHRIST'S    PUBLIC    MINISTRY.  803 

with  carpets,  the  walls  hung  with  garlands  ;  the  spirits  of  all  bright  and 
cheerful  as  the  decorated  chamber,  and  the  modest  rejoicings,  in  no  way 
clouded  by  the  presence  of  Mary's  Sou  and  His  followers.  There  was  no 
excess,  we  may  be  sure,  but  the  flow  of  harmless  entertainment  brightened 
all  faces.  John  had  beeu  a.n  ascetic — the  highest  form  of  religious  life 
hitherto  known  in  Israel.  He  had  spent  his  days  in  penitential  austerity 
and  wilderness  seclusion;  had  drunk  no  wine,  had  eaten  no  pleasant  food, 
and  had  kept  apart  from  human  afEairs  and  relationships.  But  a  new 
and  higher  ideal  of  religion  was  now  to  be  introduced.  Jesus  came  to 
spiritualize  the  humblest  duties  of  life,  and  sanctify  its  simplest  incidents, 
so  as  to  ennoble  it  as  a  whole.  Henceforth,  pleasures  and  enjoyments 
were  not  to  be  shunned  as  unholy ;  religion  was  not  to  thrive  on  the 
mortification  of  every  human  instinct,  and  the  repression  of  every  cheerful 
emotion.  It  would  mix  with  the  crowd  of  men,  affect  no  singularity,  take 
part  in  the  innocent  festivities  of  life,  interest  itself  in  whatever  interested 
men  at  large,  and  yet,  amidst  all,  remain  consecrated  and  pure  ;  in  the 
Avorld,  by  sympathy  and  active  brotherhood,  but  not  of  it ;  human  in  its 
outward  form,  but  heavenly  in  its  elevation  and  spirit. 

The  rejoicings  had  continued  for  some  evenings,  when  a  misfortune 
happened  that  threatened  to  disgrace  the  bridegroom  and  his  family  for 
life  in  the  eyes  of  their  neighbours.  The  supply  of  wine  ran  out.  As  in 
all  wine-growiug  countries,  the  population  were  not  only  temperate,  but 
simple  in  their  mode  of  life,  beyond  what  the  natives  of  a  colder  climate  can 
imagine.  Yet  wine  was  their  symbol  of  joy  and  festivity.  Jotham,  in  the 
far  back  days  of  the  Judges,  had  praised  it  as  "  cheering  God  and  man," 
and  among  other  passages,  a  Psalm  liad  spoken  of  it  as  making  glad  the 
heart,  though  its  immoderate  tise  had  been  condemned  in  many  Scriptures. 
"  Wine  is  the  best  of  all  medicines,"  said  a  Hebrew  proverb  :  "  where  wine 
is  wanting,  doctors  thrive."  "  May  there  be  always  wine  and  life  in  the 
mouth  of  the  Eabbi,"  was  one  of  the  toasts  at  their  merry  meetings. 
But,  Avithal,  this  referred  only  to  its  careful  use.  Among  the  parables  in 
which  the  people  delighted,  one  ran  thus— "When  Koali  planted  his  vine- 
yard, Satan  came  and  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  ?  '  Planting  a  vine- 
yard,' was  the  rej^ly,  '  What  is  it  for  ? '  '  Its  fruits,  green  or  dry,  are 
sweet  and  pleasant :  we  make  wine  of  it,  which  gladdens  the  heart.'  '  I 
should  like  to  have  a  hand  in  the  planting,'  said  Satan.  '  Good,'  replied  Noah. 
Satan  then  brought  a  lamb,  a  lion,  a  sow,  and  an  ape,  killed  them  in  the 
vineyard,  and  let  their  blood  run  into  the  roots  of  the  vines.  From  this 
it  comes  that  a  man,  before  he  has  taken  wine,  is  simple  as  a  lamb,  which 
knows  nothing,  and  is  dumb  before  its  shea,rers ;  when  he  has  drunk 
moderately,  he  grows  a  lion,  and  thinks  there  is  not  his  like  ;  if  he  d..riuk 
too  much,  he  turns  a  swine,  and.  vrallows  in  the  mire ;  if  he  drink  still 
more,  he  becomes  a  filthy  ape,  falling  hither  and  thither,  and  knowing 
nothing  of  what  he  does." 

The  good  and  the  evil  of  wine  were  thus  familiar,  but  we  may  be  certain 
that  only  its  better  side,  as  enjoyed  among  a  people  at  once  simple  and 
sober,  who  held  excess  in  abhorrence,  and  in  a  household  where  licence 
was  not   to  be  thought  of — was  seen  at  the  marriage  in  Cana,  and  this 


304:  THE   LIFE    OP   CUEIST. 

temperate  use  of  it  Jesns  cheerfully  sanctioned.  Mary,  -with  her  gentle 
TV'omauly  feeling  for  the  shame  of  seeing  inhospitality  that  threatened  the 
host,  indulged  the  hojoe  that  He— whose  mysterious  hirth,  honoured  by  a 
special  star  and  the  songs  of  angels,  and  whose  changed  look  and  bearing, 
since  His  Jordan  visit,  could  not  have  escaped  her— would  now  put  forth 
the  hidden  powers  she  might  well  believe  Him  to  have,  to  brighten  the 
family  circle,  in  whose  life  this  feast  was  so  great  an  event.  She  had, 
however,  to  learn,  by  a  gentle  rebuke,  that  His  human  relation  to  her 
was  now  merged  and  lost  in  a  higher.  Using  an  every-day  form  of  words, 
familiar  for  ages  to  his  nation,  with  a  look  of  love  and  tenderness,  He 
waived  her  implied  solicitation  aside — "  Woman,  what  is  there  to  me  and 
thee  ?  Mine  hour  is  not  yet  come."  There  was  no  disrespect  in  the  word 
"woman,"  for  He  afterwards  used  it  to  her,  when  on  the  cross,  in  His  last 
tender  offices  of  love.  It  was  as  if  He  had  said,  "  Our  sj^heres  lie  apart. 
Hitherto  you  have  known  Me  as  your  Son.  Henceforth,  I  am  much  more. 
My  Divine  powers  are  only  for  Divine  ends :  at  the  call  of  My  Father 
alone,  for  His  glory  only.  He  fixes  My  hour  for  all  the  woi'ks  He  wills 
Me  to  do,  and  in  this  case  it  has  not  yet  come."  "  Whatsoever  He  saith 
unto  you,  do  it,"  said  Mary,  on  hearing  His  answer— for  it  had  no  harsh- 
ness to  her. 

The  superstitious  dread  of  ceremonial  'uncleanness,  among  the  Jews, 
made  ample  provision  necessary  in  every  household,  for  constant  washings 
of  vessels,  or  of  the  person.  No  one  ate  without  washing  the  hands  ;  each 
guest  had  his  feet  washed  on  his  arrival,  for  sandals  were  left  outside  and 
only  naked  feet  allowed  to  touch  a  host's  floor  ;  and  the  washing  of  "  cujis, 
and  jugs,  and  bottles,"  as  the  Talmud  tells  us,  '•'went  on  the  whole  day." 
Six  great  jars  of  stone,  therefore,  for  such  purifications,  stood  ranged  out- 
side the  door,  or  in  the  chamber;  their  narrow  mouths  perhaps  filled  with 
green  leaves,  as  is  still  the  custom,  to  keep  the  water  cool.  "Fill  the 
waterpots  v>'ith  water,"  said  Jesus,  adding,  when  they  had  carefully  filled 
them  to  the  brim,  "  Draw  out,  and  take  supplies  to  the  governor  of  the 
feast."  But  the  water  was  now  glowing  wine.  His  words  to  His  mother 
and  the  servants  had  been  unnoticed  by  the  company,  and  the  fresh  supply, 
when  tasted  first,  as  the  fashion  was,  by  the  chief  man  of  the  feast,  on 
whom  it  fell  to  see  to  the  entertainment  of  the  guests,  was  found  so  good, 
that  he  playfully  rallied  the  bridegroom  on  keeping  the  best  to  the  last. 

Tlie  "  glory  "  of  Jesus  had  always  shone,  to  those  who  had  eyes  to  see  it, 
in  the  spotless  beauty  of  His  life  ;  but  this  was  a  revelation  of  it  in  a  new 
form.  It  was  "  the  beginning  "  of  His  miracles,  wrought,  as  was  fitting, 
in  stillness  and  privacy,  without  display, — to  cheer  and  brighten  those 
around  Him.  His  presence  at  such  a  feast  showed  His  sympathy  with 
human  joys,  human  connections,  and  human  relationships.  He  taught  by 
it,  for  the  first  time,  that  common  life  in  all  its  phases,  may  be  raised  to  a 
religious  dignity,  and  that  the  loving  smile  of  God,  like  the  tender  blue 
above,  looks  down  on  the  whole  round  of  existence.  He  had  not  been  in- 
vited as  the  chief  guest,  or  as  in  any  way  distinguished,  for  He  was  not 
yet  The  Teacher,  famed  throughout  the  land,  nor  had  His  miracles  begun 
to  reveal  His  higher  claims.     But  He  took  the  place  assigned  Him  as  one 


THE    OPENING   OF    CHIIIST'S    PUBLIC    MINISTEY.  305 

among  the  many,  as  uafcurally  as  the  lowliest  of  the  company,  and  remained 
unknown  till  His  Divine  glory  revealed  Him. 

His  miraculous  power,  indeed,  was  only  one  aspect  of  this  "  glory."  In 
a  far  higher  sense  it  was  "  manifested  "  in  His  Person.  It  was,  doubtless, 
amazing  to  jDOSsess  such  powers;  but,  that  One  whose  word,  or  mere  ^du, 
could  command  the  obedience  of  nature,  should  mingle  as  a  friend  in  an 
humble  marriage  festivity,  a  man  amongst  men,  was  still  more  wonderfid. 
Nothing  could  better  illustrate  His  perfect  manhood,  than  His  identifying 
Himself  thus  with  the  humble  incidents  of  a  private  circle.  He  had  grown 
up  under  the  common  ordinances  of  human  existence,  as  a  child,  a  son,  a 
brother,  a  friend,  and  a  neighbour.  As  a  Jew,  He  had  shared  in  the  social, 
civil,  and  religious  life  of  His  nation.  His  presence  at  this  marriage, 
showed  that  He  continued  the  same  familiar  relations  to  His  fellow-men, 
after  His  consecration,  as  before  it.  Neither  His  nationality^  nor  educa- 
tion, nor  mental  characteristics,  nor  natural  temperament,  narrowed  His 
sympathies.  Though  burdened  with  the  high  commission  of  the  Messiah, 
He  retained  a  vivid  interest  in  all  things  human.  With  us,  any  supreme 
pre-occupation  leaves  only  apathy  for  other  things.  But  in  Christ,  no  one 
faculty  or  emotion  appeared  in  excess.  His  fulness  of  nature  suited  itself 
to  every  occasion.  Strength  and  grace,  wisdom  and  love,  courage  and 
purity,  which  are  the  one  side  of  our  being,  were  never  displayed  so  har- 
moniously, and  so  perfectly,  as  in  Him ;  but  the  incidents  of  this  marriage 
feast  show  that  the  other  side,  the  feminine  gentleness  and  purity,  which 
are  the  ideal  virtues  of  woman,  were  no  less  His  characteristics.  They 
throw  light  on  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  "  In  Him  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek, 
bond  nor  free,  male  nor  female."  He  could  subdue  Pilate  by  His  calm 
dignity,  but  He  also  ministered  to  the  happiness  of  a  village  festival.  He 
could  withstand  the  struggle  with  the  Prince  of  Darkness  in  the  wilder. 
ness,  and  through  life,  but  He  wept  over  the  grave  of  Lazarus.  He  could 
let  the  rich  young  ruler,  if  he  would,  go  his  way  to  perish,  but  He  sighed 
as  He  healed  the  man  that  was  dumb.  He  pronounced  the  doom  of 
Jerusalem  with  a  lofty  sternness,  but  He  wept  as  He  thought  how  it  had 
neglected  the  things  of  its  peace.  He  craved  sympathy,  and  He  showed 
it  with  equal  tenderness  :  He  was  calm  amidst  the  wildest  popular  tumult, 
but  He  sought  the  lonely  mountain  for  midnight  prayer.  He  sternly  re- 
buked Peter  for  hinting  a  temptation,  but  He  excused  his  sleep  in  Geth- 
semane  by  the  weakness  of  the  flesh.  He  gave  away  a  crown  when  on  the 
cross,  but  He  was  exceeding  sorrowful  unto  death  in  the  garden.  He 
never  used  His  miraculous  powers  to  relieve  Himself,  but  He  provided  for 
the  multitude  in  the  wilderness.  His  judges  quailed  before  Him,  but  He 
forgot  His  dying  agonies,  to  commend  His  mother  to  the  lifelong  care  of  a 
friend.  He  rebuked  death,  that  He  might  give  her  son  back  to  the  widow; 
and  he  took  part  in  the  rejoicings  of  an  humble  marriage,  that  He  might 
elevate  and  sanctify  human  joys.  In  the  fullest  sense  He  was  a  man,  but 
not  in  the  sense  in  which  manly  virtues  are  opposed  to  those  of  woman, 
for  He  showed  no  less  the  gentleness,  purity,  and  tenderness  of  the-  one 
sex,  than  the  strength  and  nobility  of  the  other.  He  was  the  Son  of  Man, 
in  the  grand  sense  of  being  representative  of  humanity  as  a  whole.  Man 
and  woman,  alike,  have  in  Him  their  perfect  ideal.  x 


306  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

An  Indian  apologue  tells  us  tliafc  a  Brahmin,  one  of  whose  disciples  had 
been  perplexed  respecting  miracles,  ordered  a  flower-pot  filled  with  earth 
to  be  brought  him,  and  having  put  a  seed  into  it  before  the  doubter, 
caused  it  to  spring  up,  blossom,  and  bear  fruit,  while  he  still  stood  by.  "  A 
miracle,"  cried  the  young  man.  "  Son,"  replied  the  Brahmin,  "  what  else 
do  you  see  done  here  in  an  hour  than  nature  does  more  slowly  round  the 
year  ?  "  The  wine  which  the  guests  had  drunk  from  the  bridegroom's 
bounty,  and  possibly  from  the  added  gifts  of  friends,  had  been  slowly 
matured  in  the  vine  by  mysterious  elaboration,  from  light,  and  heat,  and 
moisture,  and  the  salts  of  the  earth,  none  of  which  had  more  apparent 
affinity  to  it  than  the  water  which  Jesus  transformed.  The  miracle  in 
nature  was  not  less  real  or  wonderful  than  that  of  the  marriage  feast,  and 
strikes  us  less,  only  by  its  being  familiar.  At  the  threshold  of  Christ's 
miraculous  works  it  is  well  to  realize  a  fact  so  easily  overlooked.  A 
miracle  is  only  an  exercise,  in  a  new  way,  of  the  Almighty  power  we  see 
daily  producing  perhaps  the  same  results  in  nature.  Infinitely  varied 
forces  are  at  work  around  us  every  moment.  From  the  sun  to  the  atom, 
from  the  stone  to  the  thinking  brain  and  beating  heart,  they  circulate 
sleeplessly,  through  all  things,  for  ever.  As  they  act  and  react  on  each 
other,  the  amazing  result  is  produced  which  we  know  as  nature,  but  how 
many  mysterious  inter-relations,  of  which  we  know  nothing,  may  offer 
endlessly  varied  means  for  producing  specific  ends,  at  the  command  of 
God  ?  Nor  is  there  anything  more  amazing  iu  the  works  of  Christ  than 
in  the  dail}^  phenomena  of  nature.  The  vast  universe,  embracing  heavens 
above  heavens,  stretching  out  into  the  Infinite — with  constellations 
anchored  on  the  vast  expanse  like  tiny  islet  clusters  on  the  boundless 
ocean,  is  one  great  miracle.  It  was  wonderful  to  create,  but  to  sustain 
creation  is,  itself,  to  create  anew  each  moment.  Suns  and  planets,  living 
creatures  in  their  endless  races,  all  that  the  round  sky  of  each  planet 
covers — seas,  air,  sweeping  valleys,  lofty  mountains,  and  the  million  won- 
ders of  the  brain  and  heart  and  life  of  their  innumerable  iDopulations,  have 
no  security,  each  moment,  that  they  shall  commence  another,  except  in 
the  continued  exjoenditure  of  fresh  creative  energy.  Miracles  are  only  the 
momentary  intercalation  of  unsuspected  laws  which  startle  by  their 
novelty,  but  are  no  more  miraculous  than  the  most  common  incident  of 
the  great  mystery  of  nature. 

The  beginning  of  the  public  career  of  Jesus  as  Messiah  at  a  time  so 
joyful  as  a  household  festival  was  appropriate.  His  bounteous  gift  fitly 
marked  the  opening  of  His  kingly  work,  like  the  fountains  flowing  with 
wine  at  the  coronation  of  earthly  kings.  But  a  king  very  different  from 
earthly  monarchs  was  now  entering  on  His  reign.  'No  outward  prepara- 
tion is  made  :  He  has  no  worldly  wealth  or  rich  pi'ovision  to  lavish  away. 
Yet,  though  He  has  no  wine,  water  itself,  at  His  word,  becomes  wine,  rich 
as  the  finest  vintage.  Till  His  hour  has  come.  He  remains  passive  and 
self-restrained,  awaiting  the  moment  divinely  appointed  for  His  glory 
shining  out  among  men.  Once  come,  the  slumbering  power,  till  now 
unrevealed,  breaks  forth,  never  to  cease  its  gracious  work  of  blessing  and 
healing,  till  the  kingdom  He  came  to  found  is  triumphant  in  His  death. 


THE    OPENING    OF   CHRIST'S   PUBLIC   MINISTRY.  307 

The  ago  of  Jesus  at  His  entrance  on  His  public  work  has  been  very 
variously  estimated.  Ewalcl  supposes  that  Ho  was  about  thirty-four, 
fixing  His  birth  three  years  before  the  death  of  Herod.  Wieseler,  on  the 
contrary,  believes  Him  to  have  been  iu  His  thirty-first  year,  setting  His 
liirth  a  few  months  before  Herod's  death.  Bunsen,  Anger,  Winer,  Scliiirer, 
and  Eenan  agree  with  this  :  Lichtenstein  makes  Him  thirty-two.  Hausi-ath 
and  Keim,  on  the  other  hand,  think  that  He  began  His  ministry  in  the 
year  a.d.  34,  but  they  do  not  give  any  supposed  date  for  His  birth,  though 
if  that  of  Ewald  be  taken  as  a  medium,  He  must  now  have  been  forty 
years  old,  v>'hile,  if  Wieseler's  date  be  preferred.  He  AvovaCi  onlj^  have  been 
thirty-seven.  The  statemeiit  of  the  Gospel,  that  He  was  "  about  thirty 
years  of  age  when  He  began"  His  public  work,  is  so  indefinite  as  to  allow 
free  conjecture.  In  any  case.  He  must  have  been  thirty-one  at  His 
baptism,  from  His  having  been  born  before  Herod's  death.  It  was  even 
supi^osed  by  Irenasus,  from  the  saying  of  the  Jews, — "  Thou  art  not  ycfc 
fifty  years  old,"  and  from  His  allusion  to  the  forty-six  years  during  which 
the  Temple  had  been  building,  that  He  was  between  foi'ty  and  fifty  at  His 
death.  Amidst  such  difference,  exactness  is  impossible,  and  it  seems 
safest  to  keep  to  the  generality  of  St.  Luke,  by  thinking  of  Jesus  as  about 
thirty — though  not  younger — at  His  baptism. 

The  stay  at  Cana  seems  to  have  been  short.  It  may  have  been  only  a 
family  visit,  or  it  may  have  been,  that,  from  some  cause,  Mary  had  gone 
for  a  time  to  live  there ;  but,  in  either  case,  Jesus  very  soon  removed  from 
a  locality  so  little  suited  to  His  work,  from  its  isolation,  and  remoteness 
from  the  centres  of  life  and  population.  He  had  resolved  to  make  Galilee, 
in  which  He  was  at  home,  the  chief  scene  of  His  labours.  He  was,  more- 
over, safer  there  than  either  in  Judea  or  Perea,  for  the  hierarchy  could 
reach  Him  more  easily  in  the  one,  and  the  tyranny  of  Antipas  was  less 
restrained  in  the  wild  territory  of  the  other.  The  kingdom  He  came  to 
set  up  must  grow  silently,  and  by  slow,  peaceful  degrees,  like  the  mustard 
seed,  to  which  He  compared  it,  and  it  could  not  do  so  in  any  part  so  well 
as  in  Galilee.  Far  away  from  turbulent  Judea,  He  escaped  the  excite- 
ments, more  or  less  political,  the  insurrections,  and  wild  dreams  of  national 
supremacy,  ever  fermenting  at  Jerusalem,  and  avoided  excitiug  suspicion, 
or  having  His  spiritual  aims  perverted  by  the  revolutionary  violence  of 
the  masses.  His  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world,  like  the  Messianic 
dominion  fondly  expected  by  the  nation,  bi;t  the  far  mightier  reign  of 
"The  Truth." 

Galilee  was,  however,  in  some  respects,  an  unfavourable  centre.  Jeru- 
salem, always  morose  and  self-sufficient,  ridiculed  its  population,  and 
affected  to  deny  that  any  prophet  had  risen  in  it,  though  Elijah,  the 
greatest  of  the  illustrious  order,  Elislia,  Hosea,  and  Na^lium, — had  been 
Galilaeans.  The  wits  of  the  capital,  moreover,  ridiculed  them  for  their 
speech,  for  they  substituted  one  letter  for  aiiother,  and  had  a  broad  pro- 
nunciation. Their  culture,  and  even  their  capacity  were  contemned,  though 
so  many  prophets  had  risen  amongst  them,  though  they  could  boast  of 
Barak,  the  conqueror  of  the  Canaanites,  and  of  many  famous  Eabbis,  and 
though  the  high-minded  Judas  the  Zealot  had  shed  honour  on  them,  in 


308  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

Christ's  own  day,  as  tlie  great  apostle  Paul,  sprung  from  a  Giscliala  famll}'', 
was  to  do  hereafter.     But  hatred,  or  jealousy,  like  love,  is  blind. 

It  is  hard  to  know  how  early  the  Eabbinical  fancy  of  two  Messiahs 
arose,  but,  if  it  had  already  taken  any  shape  in  Christ's  lifetime,  it  mvist 
rather  have  hindered  than  helped  His  great  work.  The  Messiah  of  the 
House  of  Joseph  was  to  appear  in  Galilee,  and,  after  gathering  round  hira 
the  long-lost  Ten  Tribes,  was  to  march,  at  their  head,  to  Jerusalem,  to 
receive  the  submission  of  the  Messiah  of  the  House  of  David,  and,  having 
united  the  whole  kingdom  once  more,  was  to  die  by  the  hands  of  Gog  and 
Magog,  the  nortliorn  heathen,  as  a  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  Jeroboam,  and 
of  the  nation  at  large.  But  these  fancies  took  a  definite  form  only  in  a 
later  age,  and  we  find  no  trace  of  them  in  the  New  Testament.  Who  can 
tell,  however,  how  old  their  germs  may  have  been  ?  They  show,  at  least, 
what  the  application  of  passages  from  the  prophets  to  Christ's  first  appear- 
ing in  Galilee  also  implies,  that  the  Galilteans  cherished  the  great  i^romise 
of  the  Messiah.  Frank,  high-spirited,  and  comparatively  unprejudiced, 
they  were  more  ready  than  other  Jews  to  listen  to  a  new  teacher,  and  the 
thousands  who  had  rekindled  their  zeal  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  under 
the  preaching  of  John,  had  already,  on  their  return,  spread  around  them 
the  excited  expectation  of  an  immediate  advent  of  the  Messiah,  v/hicli  the 
Baptist  had  announced.  But  though  the  soil  was  thus  specially  favour- 
able for  His  earlier  work,  the  fame  of  Jesus  was  hereafter  to  spread,  in 
spite  of  all  local  prejudices,  till,  at  last.  He  should  hear  Himself  pro- 
claimed by  the  multitude,  even  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  as  Jesus,  the 
prophet  of  Nazareth  of  Galilee. 

Nazareth,  itself,  like  Cana,  lay  too  far  from  the  centres  of  pojiulation 
for  Christ's  public  work,  and  there  was,  besides,  the  inevitable  draAvback 
of  its  having  known  Him  during  the  long  years  of  His  humble  privacy. 
He,  doubtless,  felt,  from  the  first,  what  He  afterwards  expressed  with  so 
much  feeling,  that  "a  prophet  is  not  without  honour,  save  in  his  own 
country,  and  in  his  own  house."  His  fellow-townsmen,  and  even  His  own 
family,  could  not  realize  that  one  whose  lowly  position  and  unmarked 
career,  they  had  had  before  them  through  life,  could  be  so  much  above 
them.  It  was,  in  infinitely  greater  degree,  the  same  pettiness  and  inability 
to  estimate  the  familiar  justly,  that,  in  our  own  age,  made  John  Wilson 
write,  that  as  "  the  northern  Highlanders  do  not  admire  '  Waverley,'  so,  I 
presume,  the  south  Highlanders  despise  'Guy  Mannering.'  The  West- 
moreland peasants  think  Wordsworth  a  fool.  In  Borrowdale,  Southey  is 
not  known  to  exist.  I  met  ten  men  in  Hawick  who  do  not  think  Hogg  a 
poet,  and  the  whole  city  of  Glasgow  think  me  a  madman."  With  such 
counteracting  prejudices,  Nazareth  was  altogether  unsuited  for  the  longer 
residence  of  Jesus,  and  hence  He  seems  never  to  have  returned  to  it,  after 
His  baptism,  except  for  a  passing  visit. 

He  chose  for  H-s  future  home  the  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  at  that 
time  the  most  populous,  as  they  are  still  the  most  delightful,  part  of 
Palestine.  Henceforth,  the  "jewel"  of  its  banks- Capernaum— became 
"  His  own  city,"  and  for  a  time,  at  least.  His  mother  and  His  "  brethren" 
seem  also  to  have  made  it  their  home,  though  a  little  later  we  find  Jesus 


THE    OPENING   OF    CHEIST  S    PUBLIC    MINISTRY.  309 

living  pcvmaneutly  as  a  guest  in  tlie  house  of  Peter,  as  if  they  had  once 
more  left  the  town,  and  returned  to  Nazareth.  From  this  centre  His 
future  work  was  carried  on.  From  it  He  set  out  on  His  missionary 
journeys,  and  He  returned  to  it  from  them  to  find  a  welcome  and  a  home. 

Capernaum  lay  on  the  western  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  at  the  spot, 
a  little  way  from  the  head  of  the  lake,  where  the  shore  recedes  in  a  more 
westerly  arc,  forming  a  small  cape,  from  which  the  view  embraces  the 
whole  coast,  in  every  direction.  It  could  never  have  been  very  large,  for 
Josephus  only  once  mentions  it,  as  a  village  to  which  he  was  carried  by 
his  soldiers,  when  hurt  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  which  had  stuck  in  the 
marsh  below  Bethsaida  Julias.  The  name  does  not  occur  in  the  Old 
Testament.  Capernaum  was  the  boundary  town  between  the  territory  of 
Philip  and  Antipas,  and,  as  such,  had  a  custom-house  and  a  garrison. 
One  of  the  officers  stationed  for  a  time  in  it,  a  foreigner,  and,  doubtless, 
a  proselyte,  had,  in  Christ's  day,  built  a  fine  synagogue,  as  a  mark,  at  once 
of  his  friendly  feeling  to  the  Jewish  nation,  and  of  homage  to  Jehovah. 
The  whitewashed  houses  were  built  of  black  basalt  or  lava,  still  scattered 
in  boulders,  here  and  there,  over  the  neighbourhood,  and  gives  the  ground 
a  dark  appearance  when  the  tall  spring  grass  has  withered  and  left  it 
bare.  The  synagogue,  however,  was  of  white  limestone.  Great  blocks  of 
chiselled  stone,  finely  carved— once  its  frieze,  architrave,  and  cornices- 
still  lie  among  the  waving  thistles,  where  the  town  formerly  stood.  Tho 
walls  are  now  nearly  level  with  the  groimd,  most  of  the  pillars  and  stones 
having  been  carried  off  to  build  into  house  walls,  or  burn  for  lime,  though 
some  of  its  double  row  of  columns,  hewn  in  one  block,  and  of  their 
Corinthian  capitals  and  massy  pedestals,  still  speak  of  its  former  splendour. 
Round  the  synagogue,  and  reaching  up  the  gentle  slope  behind,  stretched 
the  streets  and  squares,  covering  an  area  of  half-a-mile  in  length,  and  a 
quarter  in  breadth ;  the  main  street  running  north,  to  the  neighbouring 
Chorazin. 

At  the  north  end  of  the  town,  two  tombs  yet  remain ;  one  built  of  lime- 
stone, underground,  in  an  excavation  hollowed  out  with  great  labour  in. 
the  hard  basalt ;  the  other,  a  rectangular  building,  above  ground,  large 
enough  to  hold  a  great  number  of  bodies,  and  once,  apparently,  white- 
washed, to  warn  passers  by  not  to  defile  themselves  by  too  near  an  ap- 
proach to  the  dead. 

Capernaum,  in  Christ's  day,  was  a  thriving,  busy  town.  The  "  highway 
to  the  Sea,"  from  Damascus  to  Ptolemais, — now  Acre,  but  still  knoT\Ti  by 
the  earlier  name  in  the  seventeenth  century, — ran  through  it,  bringing  no 
little  local  traffic,  and  also  opening  the  markets  of  the  coast  to  the  rich 
yield  of  the  neighbouring  farms,  orchards,  and  vineyards,  and  the  abun- 
dant returns  of  the  fisheries  of  the  lake.  The  townsfolk,  thus,  as  a  rule, 
enjoyed  the  comfort  and  plenty  we  see  in  the  houses  of  Peter  and  Matthew, 
and  were  even  open  to  the  charge  of  being  "  winebibbers  and  gluttonous," 
which  implied  generous  entertainment.  They  were  proud  of  their  town, 
and  counted  on  its  steady  growth  and  unbounded  prosperity,  little  dream- 
ing of  the  riiin  which  would  one  day  make  even  its  site  a  question. 

It  was  in  this  town  that  Jesus  settled,  amidst  a  mixed  population  of 


310  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

fisher-people,  grain  and  fruit  agents,  local  tradesmen,  and  the  many  classes 
and  occupations  of  a  thriving  station  on  a  great  line  of  caravan  ti-affic.  It 
was  a  point  that  brought  Him  in  contact  with  Gentile  as  well  as  Jewish 
life.  Households  like  that  of  Peter,  proselytes  like  the  centurion,  and  the 
need  of  a  large  synagogue,  imply  a  healthy  religiousness  in  some,  but  the 
woe  pronounced  on  the  town  by  Jesus,  after  a  time,  shows  that  whatever 
influence  He  may  have  had  on  a  few,  the  citizens  as  a  whole  v/ere  too 
much  engrossed  with  their  daily  affairs  to  pay  much  heed  to  Him. 

An  hour's  walk  behind  the  town  leads  to  gentle  hill  slopes,  which,  in 
April,  are  thinly  covered  with  crisp  grasses,  and  stalks  of  weeds.  From 
the  top  the  eje  follows  the  course  of  the  Jordan  as  it  enters  the  lake  in 
two  streams,  through  a  marshy  delta,  the  favourite  pasture  ground  for 
herds  of  huge,  ungainly,  fierce,  and  often  dangerous  black  buffaloes,  which 
delight  to  wallow  by  day  in  such  marshy  places,  up  to  the  neck  in  water 
or  mud,  and  return  at  night  to  their  masters,  the  Arabs  of  the  Jordan 
valley.  Jesus  must  often  have  seen  these  herds  luxuriating  idly  in  this 
swampy  paradise,  for  they  are  not  used  for  labour  in  the  district  round 
the  lake,  though  they  are  sometimes  set  to  drag  the  plough  in  the  parts 
near  the  Waters  of  Merom.  The  lake  itself  stretched  out,  north  and 
south,  like  a  pear  in  shape,  the  broad  end  towards  the  noi'th ;  or  like  a 
lyre,  from  which,  indeed,  it  got  its  ancient  name  of  Chinneroth.  Its 
greatest  width,  from  the  ancient  Magdala  on  the  west  side,  to  Gergesa  on 
the  east,  is  six  and  tliree-quarter  miles,  and  its  extreme  length,  a  little 
over  twelve.  There  are  no  pine-clad  mountains,  no  bold  headlands,  no 
lofty  precipices  ;  the  hills — except  at  Khan  Minyeh,  the  ancient  Tarichisa, 
a  little  below  Capernaum,  where  there  is  a  small  cliff — rise  gradually,  in  a 
dull  unifoi'm  brown  from  the  lake,  or  from  a  fringe  of  plain,  on  the  south 
and  east,  to  about  1,000  feet ;  on  the  north-west  to  about  600.  No  promi- 
nent peak  breaks  the  outline,  but  the  ever-changing  lights  and  the  rich 
tints  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  prevent  monotony.  From  the  south  of  the 
lake,  the  top  of  Hermon,  often  white  with  snow,  stands  out  sharp  and 
clear  in  the  bright  sky,  as  if  close  at  hand,  and,  towards  the  north,  the 
twin  peaks  of  Hattin  crown  a  wild  gorge,  a  little  way  below  Capernaum. 
On  the  eastern  side  the  hills  rise  in  a  barren  wall,  seamed  with  a  few  deep 
ravines,  black  basalt  predominating,  though  varied  here  and  there  by  the 
lighter  grey  limestone.  Nor  trees,  nor  village,  nor  spots  of  cultivated 
land  break  the  desolation  which  spreads  like  a  living  death  over  the  land- 
scape, except  along  the  narrow  stripe  of  green,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
in  breadth,  that  fringes  the  lake.  It  was  among  these  waste  and  lonely 
hills  that  Jesus  often  retired  to  escape  the  crowds  which  often  oppressed 
Him.  The  hills  on  the  western  side  slope  more  gently,  and  rise  and  fall 
in  rounded  tops,  such  as  mark  the  softer  limestone.  The  line  of  the  shore, 
in  the  upper  reaches,  is  broken  into  a  series  of  little  bays  of  exquisite 
beauty. 

The  Rabbis  were  wont  to  say  that  God  had  made  seven  seas  in  the  land 
of  Canaan,  but  had  chosen  only  one  for  Himself— the  Sea  of  Galilee. 
Josephus  rightly  called  the  laud  on  its  borders,  "  the  crown  "  of  Palestine. 
The  plain  of  Geunesareth  begins  at  Khan  Minyeh,  about  two  miles  below 


THE    OPENING   OF   CHEIST's   PUBLIC   MINISTRY.  311 

Capernamn,  filling  in  the  bow-like  recess  whicli  the  hills  make  from  that 
point  to  Magdala.  It  is  as  romantic  as  beautiful,  for  the  raviue  at  its 
southern  end  leads,  at  a  short  distance,  to  the  towering  limestone  cliffs  of 
Arbela,  on  whose  heights  numerous  eagles  now  build  among  the  airy- 
caverns,  once  the  fortress  alternately  of  robbers  and  patriots,  to  whom  the 
valley  offered  a  way  to  the  lake.  Gennesareth  was  the  richest  spot  in 
Palestine;  five  streamlets  from  the  neighbouring  hills  quickening  its  rich 
dark  volcanic  soil  into  amazing  fertilit3\  It  measures  only  about  tAvo  and 
a  half  miles  from  north  to  south,  by  about  a  mile  in  depth,  but,  in  the 
days  of  Christ  it  must  have  been  enehantingly  beautiful.  "  Its  soil,"  says 
Josephus,  "  is  so  fruitful  that  all  kinds  of  trees  grow  in  it.  "Walnuts 
flourish  in  great  i)lenty ;  there  are  palm-trees  also,  which  require  heat,  and 
figs  and  olives,  which  require  a  more  temperate  air,  Nature  seems,  as  it 
were,  to  have  done  violence  to  herself,  to  cause  the  plants  of  different  lands 
to  grow  together.  Grapes  and  figs  ripen  for  ten  months  in  the  year,  and 
other  fruits  fill  up  the  other  months." 

No  wonder  the  fruits  of  Gennesareth  put  to  shame  all  else  in  the 
markets  of  Jerusalem.  Its  soil  is  still  fertile  in  the  extreme,  and  it  lies 
between  five  and  six  hundred  feet  below  the  Mediterranean,  which  makes 
it  very  warm.  Wheat,  barley,  millet,  rice,  melons,  grapes,  the  common 
vegetables,  tobacco,  and  indigo  flourish,  and  date-palms,  figs,  citrons,  and 
oranges  are  not  wanting.  Gennesareth  melons  are  exported  to  Damascus 
and  Acre,  and  are  greatly  prized.  The  oleanders  and  wild  figs,  palms, 
etc.,  rise  here  and  there  in  rank  luxuriance,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that,  in  former  times,  when  the  whole  soil  was  carefully  tilled,  few  semi- 
tropical  plants  would  have  failed  to  grow.  The  climate  of  the  lake  shore, 
generally,  is.  so  mild  even  in  Avintcr,  that  snow  seldom  falls.  In  summer, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  oppressively  hot,  for  except  at  the  plain  of  Gen- 
nesareth, which  enjoys  cool  breezes  from  Lebanon,  the  hills  shut  out  the 
west  wind,  almost  the  only  abatement  of  the  intensity  of  the  summer  in 
Palestine,  and  hence  tlie  people  of  Tiberias  are  glad  to  sleep  in  shelters  of 
straw  or  leaves  on  their  roofs  during  the  hot  months.  Melons  ripen  four 
Aveeks  sooner  than  at  Acre  and  Damascus,  and  though  wheat  is  not  so 
early  ripe  as  at  Jericho,  wdiere  the  harvest  is  in  May,  it  is  ready  for  the 
sickle  in  June.  A  spot  so  charming  could  not,  however,  escape  some, 
drawback.  This  sultry  moist  heat  causes,  along  the  marshy  lake  edge,  a 
]jrevalence  of  fever,  and  sometimes  brings  jiestilence,  and  ophthalmia  and 
sickness  of  various  kinds  are  only  too  common. 

The  shores  of  the  plain  are  white  with  myriads  of  little  shells,  over 
which  the  transparent,  crystal-like  waters  rise  and  fall  with  the  wind,  and 
the  side  next  the  hills  is  shut  in  by  a  fringe  of  oleanders,  rich,  each  May, 
in  red  and  white  blossom.  In  the  clays  of  Christ  the  whole  landscape  was 
full  of  life.  Busy  towns  and  villages  croAvded  the  shores,  and  the  waters 
swarmed  Avith  boats  employed  in  the  fisheries,  which  even  gave  their 
names  to  seA-eral  of  the  tOAvns.  South  of  Capernaum  lay  the  busy  city  of 
Taricheea,  or  "  Pickling  ToAvn," — the  great  fish-curing  port — which  had 
boats  enough  to  meet  the  Romans,  a  generation  later,  in  a  deadly  sea-fight 
on  the  lake,  in  which  eight  thousand  of  its  citizens,  and  of  those  who  had 


312  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

taken  refuge  in  it,  were  slain,  and  nearly  forty  thousand  sold  as  slaves. 
This  and  Tiberias  were  the  two  ports  in  which  the  fishermen  of  Capernaum 
and  Bcthsaida  found  a  ready  sale  for  their  freights.  A  little  further  south 
rose  the  houses  of  Magdala,  or  Migdal-El— "  the  Tower  of  God"— now 
Medschel— the  home  of  the  Mary  who  bears  its  name.  Then  came  Tiberias, 
with  its  splendid  palace,  grand  public  buildings,  huge  arsenal,  famous 
baths,  glittering  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  its  motley,  busy  population; 
town  after  town  rising  in  the  distance.  To  the  north,  on  the  slope  of  the 
hills,  a  short  way  off,  lay  Chorazin,  named,  it  might  seem,  from  the 
"  coracin  "  fish  mentioned  by  Josej)hus  as  found  in  its  neighbourhood.  At 
the  head  of  the  lake,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan,  Bethsaida — "the 
Fisher's  Town  " — rebuilt,  and  re-named  Julias,  by  the  tetrarch  Philip,  was 
fresh  from  the  hands  of  the  masons  and  sculptors,  and  along  the  eastern 
shore  lay  Gergesa,  Gamala,  Hippos,  and  other  swarming  hives  of  men- 
The  landscape  is  now  very  different.  The  thickly  peopled  shore  is  almost 
deserted.  Tiberias,  then  so  magnificent,  has  shrunk  into  a  small  and 
decaying  town,  like  every  place  under  Turkish  rule  ;  the  white  towns  and 
villages,  once  reflected  in  the  waters,  have  disappeared;  the  fleets  of  fish- 
ing boats  are  now  replaced  by  one  solitary  crazy  boat ;  the  richly  wooded 
hills  are  bare ;  the  paradise-like  plains  are  overgrown  with  thorns  and 
thistles.  The  shore — varied  by  stretches  of  sand,  intervals  of  white  tiny 
shells,  shingle  with  larger  shells  here  and  there,  and  great  beds  of  black 
basalt,  which  show  the  volcanic  nature  of  the  district,  as  do  also  the  warm 
baths  at  Tiberias— is  silent.  Near  the  water,  reeds  and  rushes  grow  in 
long  reaches,  in  the  flatter  swampy  parts  —  a  favourite  haunt  of  the  pelican, 
and  many  other  birds,  but,  above  all,  of  the  turtle-dove,  the  bird  dearest 
from  of  old  to  the  Jew.  The  whole  must  have  been  beautiful,  however,  in 
former  days  to  make  the  Emperor  Titus  compare  it  with  the  Lake  of  Neuf- 
chatel,  in  Switzerland,  though,  nowadays,  the  comparison  seems  fanciful. 

It  was  in  Capernaum  that  Jesus  chose  His  home,  in  the  midst  of  this 
life  and  beauty,  l)eside  the  gleaming  lake,  embosomed  deep  on  this,  its 
western  shore,  in  soft  terraced  hills,  laughing  with  fruitfulness ;  the 
higher  hills  of  Upper  Galilee  rising  beyond,  and  the  majestic  Hermon 
closing  the  glorious  landscape.  The  view  over  the  waters  showed  the 
steep  slopes — now  yellow  limestone,  now  black  basalt— which  led  up  to 
the  Gaulonitis  country.  Capernaum  was  the  town  of  His  three  chief 
apostles,  Peter,  John,  and  James,  and  also  of  Andrew.  Here  He  healed 
the  centurion's  slave,  and  raised  the  daughter  of  Jairus  ;  called  Matthew 
from  the  booth  where  he  took  the  customs  dues,  and  healed  the  mother-in 
law  of  Peter.  From  a  boat  near  the  shore,  close  bj^  He  preached  to  the 
crowds,  and  it  was  in  the  waters  off  the  town  that  He  vouchsafed  to  Peter 
and  his  brother  the  miraculous  draught  of  fishes. 

The  whole  neighbourhood,  indeed,  is  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Jesus. 
The  Lake  of  Galilee  had  been  chosen  by  God  for  Himself,  and  honoured 
above  all  seas  of  the  earth,  in  a  sense  which  the  Rabbis  little  dreamed 
The  men,  the  fields,  the  valleys  round  it,  are  immortalized  by  their 
association  with  the  Saviour.  There  were  the  vinej'ards  on  the  hill  slopes, 
round  which  tlicir  owner  planted  a  hedge,  and  in  which  he  built  a  watch- 


THE    OPENING    OF    CHRIST's    PUELIC   MINISTRY.  313 

tower,  and  dug  a  wiuc-press.  There  were  the  sunny  hills,  on  which  the 
old  wine  had  grown,  and  the  new  was  growing,  for  which  the  honseholdcr 
would  take  care  to  provide  the  new  leather  bottles.  The  plain  of  Gcn- 
nesareth  was  the  enamelled  meadow,  on  which,  in  spring,  ten  thousand 
lilies  Avere  robed  in  more  than  the  glory  of  Solomon,  and  where,  in  winter, 
the  grass  was  cast  into  the  oven.  It  was  on  such  pastures  as  those  ai'onnd, 
that  the  shepherd  left  the  ninetj-and-nine  sheep,  to  seek,  in  the  mountains, 
the  one  that  was  lost,  and  bring  it  back,  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing  when 
found.  The  ravens,  that  have  neither  storehouse  nor  barn,  daily  sailed 
over  from  the  cliffs  of  Arbela,  to  seek  their  food  on  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
and  from  the  same  cliffs,  from  time  to  time,  flew  forth  the  haAvks,  to  make 
the  terrified  hen  gather  her  chickens  under  her  wings.  The  orchards  of 
spreading  fig-trees  were  there,  on  which  the  dresser  of  the  vineyard,  in 
three  years,  found  no  fruit,  and  in  which  the  grain  of  mustard  seed  grew 
into  so  great  a  tree  that  the  fowls  of  the  air  lodged  in  its  branches. 
Across  the  lake  rose  the  hills  of  Gaulonitis,  which  the  idly  busy  Rabbis 
watched  for  signs  of  the  weather.  A  murky  red,  seen  above  them  in  the 
morning,  was  a  text  for  these  sky-prophets  to  predict  "  foul  weather  to- 
day, for  the  sky  is  red  and  lowering,"  and  it  was  when  the  sun  sank,  red 
and  glowing,  behind  the  hills  in  the  west,  that  the  solemn  gossips,  return- 
ing from  their  many  prayers  in  the  synagogue,  made  sure  that  it  would 
be  fair  weather  to-morrow.  It  was  when  the  sea-cloud  was  seen  driving 
over  the  hill-tops  from  Ptolemais  and  Carmel  that  neighbours  warned 
each  other  that  a  shower  was  coming,  and  the  clouds  sailing  north, 
towards  Safed  and  Hcrmon,  were  the  accepted  earnest  of  coming  heat. 
The  daily  business  of  Capernaum,  itself,  supplied  many  of  the  illustrations 
so  frequently  introduced  into  the  discourses  of  Jesus.  He  might  see  in 
the  bazaar  of  the  town,  or  on  the  street,  the  rich  travelling  merchant,  who 
exchanged  a  heavy  load  of  Babjdonian  carpets  for  the  one  lusti'ous  pearl 
that  had,  perhaps,  found  its  Avay  to  the  lake  from  distant  Ceylon.  Fisher- 
men, and  publicans,  and  dressers  of  vineyards  passed  and  repassed  each 
moment.  Over  in  Julias,  the  favourite  town  of  the  tetrarch  Philip  ;  below, 
in  Tiberias,  at  the  court  of  Antipas,  lived  the  magnates,  who  delighted  to 
be  called  "  gracious  lords,"  and  walked  in  silk  robes.  The  young  Salome 
lived  in  the  one  town ;  her  mother,  Herodias,  in  the  other ;  and  the 
intercourse  between  the  two  courts  could  not  have  escaped  the  all-observ- 
ing eye  of  Jesus,  as  He  moved  about  in  Capernaum. 

It  was  this  town,  on  the  border  between  the  districts  of  Philip  and 
Antipas,  and  on  the  highway  of  commerce  and  travel  by  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  in  the  midst  of  thickly  sown  towns  and  villages,  that  Jesus  selected 
as  His  future  home.  He  seems,  at  first,  to  have  lived  with  His  mother 
and  His  brethren,  and  the  few  disciples  He  had  already  gathered;  but 
His  stay,  at  this  time,  was  short,  for  He  presently  set  out  on  His  first 
Passover  journey  to  Jerusalem.  On  His  return.  He  appears  to  have  made 
His  abode,  as  often  as  He  was  in  the  town,  in  the  house  of  Peter,  who 
lived  with  his  brother  Andrew  and  his  mother-in-law.  It  had  a  court-yard 
before  it,  and  was  on  the  shore  of  the  Lake,  but  it  was,  at  best,  only  the 
home  of  a  rough-handed  fisherman's  household. 


314  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

VISIT    TO   JERUSALEM, 

r  I  1HE  choice  of  Capernatim  by  Jesus  as  His  future  centre  was  sigui- 
I         -*-    ficant.     John  had  chosen  the  "  terrible  wilderness,"  with  its  "  vipers 
I       and  scorpions  and  drought."     Jesus  selected  the  district  spoken  of  as  "  the 
I       garden  of  God,"  and  "Paradise."     John  had  lived  aimidst  the  silence  of 
desolation;  Jesus  came  to  a  centre  of  business  and  travel,  to  live  amidst 
men.     John  kept  equally  aloof  from  priest,  prince,  or  governor,  from  Rome 
,       a.,nd  from  Jerusalem ;  Jesus  settled  in  a  garrison  town,  noted  for  business 
J      and  near  Tiberias,  with  its  Iduniean  prince,  the  future  murderer  of  the 
BajDtist,  and  its  gay  courtiers.     The  contrast  marked  the  vital  difference 
between  His  work  and  that  of  His  herald.     He  was  to  wear  no  prophet's 
mantle  like  John,  but  the  simple  dress  of  other  men :  to  lay  no  stress  on 
fasts,  to  enforce  no  isolation  from  any  class,  for  He  came  to  all  men  irre- 
spective of  rank  or  nation. 

Jesus  had  come,  in  fact,  to  preach  a  Gospel  of  which  the  glorious  pano- 
rama around  Him  was  the  fit  emblem.  The  "old  wine"  of  Judaism, 
which  had  in  a  measure  characterized  the  spirit  of  John,  was  to  be  replaced 
by  the  "new  wine  of  the  kingdom  of  God."  John  had  sought  to  establish 
that  kingdom  anew,  on  a  Jewish  foundation,  by  trying  to  blend  together 
the  spiritual  and  the  external.  While  breaking  away  in  some  respects  from 
the  old  theocracy,  he  had  sought  to  build  up  a  new  outward  constitution 
for  Israel  alone,  and  had  imposed  it,  v/ith  its  burden  of  fastings,  washings, 
and  endless  legal  requirements,  in  j^art,  on  the  nation  at  large,  and  in  all 
its  severity,  on  himself  and  his  disciples.  He  had  proposed  to  heal  the 
wounds  of  mankind  by  an  unnatural  withdrawal  from  the  world,  and  by 
the  austerities  of  ascetic  observance.  For  this  religion  of  endless,  hope- 
less struggle  after  legal  purity,  which  carried  with  it  no  balm  for  the 
heart,  and  enforced  morbid  isolation,  Jesus,  by  His  settling  in  CaiDernaum, 
substituted  tliat  of  peace  and  joy,  and  of  a  healthy  intercourse  with  man- 
kind and  citizenship  in  the  great  world.  The  religion  of  John  was 
national,  local,  and  unsatisfying,  and  marked  by  the  spirit  of  caste;  that 
of  Jesus  offered  the  splendid  contrast  of  a  faith  which  rose  high  over  all 
that  had  hitherto  been  known.  Suited  alike  for  the  peasant  and  the 
prince,  it  cared  nothing  for  outward  position  or  the  changes  of  states  or 
nationality,  but  sought  only  to  meet  the  wants  and  longings  of  man.  in 
the  inner  infinite  world  of  the  heart  and  spirit,  which  no  Herod  could 
reach.  Recognising  all  good,  wherever  found,  it  gladly  drew  to  itself  all 
that  was  true  and  pure,  and  rejoiced  to  ally  itself  with  the  gifts  which 
dignify  human  nature.  The  friend  of  man,  it  saw  in  every  soul  a  pearl, 
hidden  or  visible,  and  ennobled  every  honourable  human  calling  by  enlist- 
ing it  in  the  service  of  God.  It  lifted  men  above  care  for  the  world  or 
inclination  to  seek  it,  because  it  was  not  a  religion  of  outward  forms,  of 
harsh  legalities,  or  unnatural  self -infliction  and  isolation,  but  the  religion 
of  peace  and  joy,  in  reconciliation  with  God  and  the  calm  of  jarring  nature 
within — a  religion  which  gave  calmness  amidst  all  want,  and  reflected  the 


VISIT   TO    JERUSALEM.  315 

untroubled  image  of  heaven  in  the  soul,  amidst  suffering  and  trial — a 
religion  which  laid  the  agitations  and  cares  of  the  bosom  to  rest,  by  the 
pledge  of  Divine  love  and  pity.  The  sweet  faucy  of  the  Portuguese 
mariner,  who,  after  rounding  Cape  Horn,  amidst  storm  and  terrors,  found 
that  the  ocean  on  which  he  had  entered,  lay  as  if  hushed  asleep  before 
him,  and  ascribed  its  calm  to  the  glittering  form  of  the  southern  cross 
shining  down  on  it,  was  to  be  turned  into  fact,  in  the  stillness  of  the 
hitherto  troubled  soul  under  the  light  of  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

The  stay  of  Jesus  in  Capernaum  at  this  time  was  very  short.  He  had 
resolved  to  attend  the  Passover,  and  only  waited  till  it  was  time  to  do  so. 
No  details  have  been  left  us  of  this  earliest  ministry,  but  it  could  hardly 
have  been  encouraging,  for  even  at  a  later  date  its  recollections  waked 
painful  thoughts.  The  determination  to  carry  His  message  beyond  the 
narrow  and  ungracious  circle  of  Capernaum,  and  the  towns  around,  to  a 
wider  sphere,  would  be  only  strengthened  hj  this  result.  Jerusalem,  with 
its  schools  and  Temple,  was  the  place  fitted  beyond  all  others  for  His 
working  with  effect.  He  did  not  wish  to  bo  openly  recognised  as  the 
Messiah  as  yet,  but  it  was  imperative  now,  at  the  opening  of  His  ministry, 
that  he  should  visit  the  great  centre  and  heart  of  the  nation,  and  unosten- 
tatiously open  His  great  commission.  The  whole  country  looked  to  Jeru- 
salem as  its  religious  capital,  and  an  impression  made  there  would  react 
everywhere. 

The  mouth  of  April,  on  the  eve  of  the  15th  of  which  the  Passover  was 
eaten,  was  the  bright  spring  month  of  the  year.  The  plains  were  covered 
with  rich  green,  for  it  was  the  "caring  month,"  and  the  grey  hills  lit  up 
with  red  anemones,  rock  roses,  red  and  j'ellow,  the  convolvulus,  marigold, 
wild  geranium,  red  tulip,  and  a  hundred  other  glories,  for  it  was  the 
"month  of  flowers."  The  cuckoo,  unseen,  as  here,  was  heard  around:  our 
thrush  and  sweet-voiced  blackbird  flew  off  at  the  approach  of  a  passer  by : 
the  voice  of  the  turtle  was  heard  in  the  land :  the  sona;  of  the  lark  flooded 
a  thousand  acres  of  upper  air,  and  the  pastures  were  alive  with  flocks  and 
herds.  The  roads  to  Jerusalem  were  already  crowded  when  the  month 
began.  Flocks  of  sheep,  goats,  and  cattle  from  Bashan,  daily  passed  over 
the  fords  of  the  Jordan,  towards  the  Holy  City,  and  shepherds  with  their 
flocks,  from  "  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness,"  between  Bethany  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  and  the  Dead  Sea,  or  from  the  south  country  stretching 
aAvay  from  Bethlehem,  wore  in  great  excitement  to  bring  their  charge 
safely  to  the  Temple  market,  where  one  hundred  thousand  lambs,  alone, 
were  needed,  besides  thousands  of  sheep  and  oxen.  The  roads  and  bridges 
on  the  main  lines  of  travel  through  the  whole  country  had  been  repaired ; 
all  tombs  whitewashed,  to  guard  those  coming  to  the  feast  from  defilement, 
by  unconscious  approach  to  them  :  the  fields  examined,  to  weed  out  what- 
ever illegal  mixtures  of  plants  defiled  the  land :  and  the  springs  and  wells 
cleansed  for  the  wants  of  the  pilgrims,  no  less  than  to  secure  their  legal 
purity. 

Jerusalem  was  in  its  glory.  The  Avhole  population  was  astir  from  the 
earliest  morning,  to  enjoy  the  cool  of  the  day  and  the  excitements  of  the 
Beason.     The  hills  of  Moab  were  hardly  purple  with  the  dawn  before  the 


316  THE    LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

Temple  courts  were  crowded,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  rose  from  behind 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  leaving  the  morning  clouds  to  float  off  and  lose 
themselves  in  the  deep  valley  of  the  Dead  Sea,  the  business  of  the  day 
had  fully  begun.  The  golden  roofs  and  marble  walls  of  the  Temple  re- 
flected a  dazzling  brightness  ;  the  King's  Pool,  beyond  the  Tyropoeon, 
seemed  molten  silver,  and  the  palms,  cypresses,  olives,  and  figs,  of  the 
palace  gardens,  and  among  the  mansions  of  the  rich  on  Zion  and  round  the 
city,  bent  in  the  soft  air.  The  concourse  at  the  hour  of  morning  prayer 
was  immense,  but  it  grew  even  greater  as  the  day  advanced.  The  streets 
were  blocked  by  the  crowds  from  all  parts,  who  had  to  make  their  way  to 
the  Temple,  past  flocks  of  sheep  and  droves  of  cattle,  pressing  on  in  the 
sunken  middle  part  of  each  street  reserved  for  them,  to  prevent  contact 
and  defilement.  Sellers  of  all  possible  wares  beset  the  pilgrims,  for  the 
great  feasts  were,  as  has  been  said,  the  harvest  time  of  all  trades  at  Jeru- 
salem, just  as,  at  Mecca,  even  at  this  day,  the  time  of  the  great  concourse 
of  worshippers  at  the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  is  that  of  the  busiest  trade 
among  the  merchant  pilgrims,  who  form  the  caravans  from  all  parts  of 
the  Mohammedan  world. 

Inside  the  Temple  space,  the  noise  and  pressure  were,  if  possible,  worse. 
Directions  were  posted  up  to  keep  to  the  right  or  the  left,  as  in  the  densest 
thoroughfares  of  London.  The  outer  court,  which  others  than  Jews  might 
enter,  and  which  was,  therefore,  known  as  the  Coui't  of  the  Heathen,  was, 
in  ircivt,  covered  with  pens  for  sheep,  goats,  and  cattle,  for  the  feast  and 
the  thank-offerings.  Sellers  shouted  the  merits  of  their  beasts,  sheep 
bleated,  and  oxen  lowed.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  great  yearly  fair  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  the  crowds  added  to  the  din  and  tumult,  till  the  services  in  the 
neighbouring  courts  were  sadly  disturbed.  Sellers  of  doves,  for  poor 
women  coming  for  purification,  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  for  othersj 
had  a  space  set  apart  for  them.  Indeed,  the  sale  of  doves  was,  in  great 
measure,  secretly,  in  the  hands  of  the  priests  themselves :  Kaunas,  the 
high  priest,  especially,  gaining  great  profits  from  his  dove-cots  on  Mount 
Olivet.  The  rents  of  the  sheep  and  ca,ttle  pens,  and  the  profits  on  the 
doves,  had  led  the  priests  to  sanction  the  incongruity  of  thus  turning  the 
Temple  itself  into  a  noisy  market.  ISTor  was  this  all.  Potters  pressed  on 
the  pilgrims  their  clay  dishes  and  ovens  for  the  Passover  Lamb  ;  hundreds 
of  traders  recommended  their  wares  aloud;  shops  for  wine,  oil,  salt,  and 
all  else  needed  for  sacrifices,  invited  customers,  and,  in  addition,  persons 
going  across  the  city  with  all  kinds  of  burdens,  shortened  their  journey 
by  crossing  the  Temple  grounds.  The  provision  for  paying  the  tribute, 
levied  on  all,  for  the  support  of  the  Temple,  added  to  the  distraction.  On 
both  sides  of  the  east  Temple  gate,  stalls  had  for  generations  been  per- 
mitted for  changing  foreign  money.  From  the  fifteenth  of  the  preceding 
month  money-changers  had  been  allowed  to  set  up  their  tables  in  the  city, 
and  from  the  twenty-first— or  twenty  days  before  the  Passover— to  ply 
their  trade  in  the  Temple  itself.  Purchasers  of  materials  for  offer- 
ings paid  the  amount  at  special  stalls,  to  an  officer  of  the  Temple,  and 
received  a  leaden  cheque  for  which  they  got  what  they  had  bought  from 
the  seller.     Large  sums,  moreover,  were  changed,  to  be  cast,  as  free  offer- 


VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  317 

ings,  into  one  of  the  tliirtccn  cliests  wliicli  formed  the  Temple  treasury. 
Every  Jew,  no  matter  how  poor,  was,  in  addition,  required  to  pay  yearly 
a  half-shekel — about  eightecnpeuce — as  atonement  money  for  his  soul,  and 
for  the  support  of  the  Temple.  As  this  would  not  be  received  except  in 
a  uative  coin,  called  the  Temple  shekel,  which  was  not  generally  current, 
strangers  had  to  change  their  Roman,  Greek,  or  Eastern  money,  at  the 
stalls  of  the  money-changers,  to  get  the  coin  required.  The  trade  gave 
ready  means  for  fraud,  which  was  only  too  common.  Five  per  cent,  ex- 
change was  charged,  but  this  was  indefinitely  increased  by  tricks  and 
chicanery,  for  which  the  class  had  evei'y where  earned  so  bad  a  name,  that, 
like  the  publicans,  their  witness  would  not  be  taken  before  a  court. 

Jesus  was  greatly  troubled  by  this  monstrous  desecration  of  His  Father's 
house.  He  was  a  young  unknown  man,  and  a  Galilaean :  He  had  no  formal 
authority  to  interfere,  for  the  Temple  arrangements  were  under  the  priests 
alone,  but  the  sight  of  such  abuses,  in  a  place  so  holy,  roused  His  inmost 
spirit.  Entering  the  polluted  Temple  space,  and  gazing  round  on  the 
tumult  and  manifold  defilements.  He  could  not  remain  imjjassive.  Hastily 
tying  togetlier  some  small  cords,  and  advancing  to  the  sellers  of  the  sheep 
and  oxen,  He  commanded  them  to  leave  the  Temple,  with  their  property, 
at  once,  and  drove  them  and  their  beasts  out  of  the  gates.  The  sellers  of 
doves  were  allowed  to  take  their  cages  away,  but  thej,  too,  had  to  leave. 
The  money-changers  fared  worst,  as  they  deserved.  Their  tables  were 
overturned,  and  they  themselves  expelled.  After  long  years  the  Temple 
was  once  more  sacred  to  God. 

That  one  man  should  have  effected  such  an  amazing  act  may  have  been 
due,  as  St.  Jerome  says,  "  to  the  starry  light  which  shone  from  His  eyes, 
and  to  the  Divine  majesty  which  beamed  from  His  features,"  but  it  is  not 
necessary  to  suppose  such  a  miraculous  aid.  The  weakness  of  a  guilty 
conscience  on  the  one  side,  and  the  grandeur  of  a  supreme  enthusiasm  on 
the  other,  account  for  it.  All  were  under  a  spell  for  the  moment.  It  was 
an  act  such  as  Mattathias  or  Judas  Maccabceus  might  have  done,  and 
prophet-like  as  it  was,  in  such  a  place,  and  in  such  a  cause,  its  unique 
heroism  secured  its  triumph. 

The  authorities  who  were  responsible  for  the  abuse  so  astoundingly 
corrected,  were  no  less  paralyzed  than  the  multitude  at  large,  by  the 
lofty  zeal  for  God  shown  thus  strangely.  Eules  of  a  strictness  hitherto 
unknown  were  ere  long  announced,  and,  for  the  moment,  put  in  force, 
though,  three  years  later,  things  had  become  as  bad  as  ever.  No  one 
could  henceforth  go  up  to  "  the  hill  of  the  Lord  "  with  a  staff  in  his  hand^ 
or  with  his  shoes"  on  his  feet,  or  with  money  in  his  girdle,  or  with  a  sack 
on  his  shoidder,  or  even  with  dust  on  his  feet,  and  no  one  might  carry  a 
burden  of  any  kind  through  the  Temple,  or  even  spit  within  the  holy  jire- 
cincts.  It  was  felt  that  religion  had  received  a  deadly  injury  by  the  evils 
against  which  the  Galila)an  stranger  had  thus  signally  protested,  and  a 
vain  effort  was  made  to  restore  the  prestige  they  themselves  had  so  fatally 
injured. 

It  was  wholly  in  keeping  with  His  office  to  act  as  Jesus  had  done.  As  His 
Father's  House,  the  Temple  was  supremely  under  His  care,  and  He  only 


318  THE    LIFE    OP   CHEIST. 

exercised  His  rights  and  duties  as  the  Messiah,  in  cleansing  it  as  He  did. 
It  was  a  sign  and  commencement  of  the  spiritual  cleansing  He  came  to 
inaugurate :  a  note  struck  which  disclosed  the  character  of  His  future 
work.  Zechariah  had  said  that  in  the  days  of  the  Messiah  "  the  trader 
would  no  more  be  in  the  House  of  Jehovah,"  and  thus  even  the  prophets, 
whom  the  nation  honoured,  seemed  to  endorse  His  act. 

The  priests  could  say  nothing  condemnatory,  but  coidd  only  raise  the 
question  why  He  should  have  taken  it  upon  Him  to  assume  authority  which 
they  claimed.  They  were  irritated  beyond  bounds,  and  doubtless  indulged 
their  scorn  at  a  "prophet,"  who  took  on  Himself  the  duties  of  the  Temple 
police.  Yet  the  people,  by  their  silence,  showed  that  they  approved  the 
act,  though  it  implied  condemnation  of  the  high  priest  and  his  colleagues, 
and  had  attacked  a  custom  sanctioned  by  age,  established  by  formal 
authority,  and  identified  with  the  interests  of  the  Temple  and  its  services. 
The  crowds  of  pilgrims  also  honoured  the  act  of  the  young  GalilEBan,  of 
whom  strange  rumours  had  reached  them  from  the  Jordan ;  instinctively 
feeling  that  it  was  right.  Jesus  had  made  His  entrance  on  public  notice, 
in  a  way  that  struck  the  jiopular  imagination, — as  a  true  prophet,  who 
witnessed  fearlessly  for  God,  against  the  desecration  of  His  house.  The 
feeling  towards  Him  was  half  enthusiastic,  half  respectful ;  His  enemies 
were  confused  and  paralyzed.  He  was  the  valiant  soldier  of  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  and  it  might  have  seemed  as  if  the  way  to  an  easy  triumph  were 
to  be  expected  forthwith. 

But  He  and  the  people  had  wholly  different  conceptions  of  the  office  of 
the  Messiah.  He  had  acted  as  He  had  done  from  no  personal  end.  His 
discijiles  saw  that  it  was  consuming  zeal  for  His  Father's  glory,  that  had 
animated  Him ;  a  welling  up  of  holy  indignation.  He  had  exercised  the 
prophet's  office,  of  striking  for  the  true,  and  the  pure ;  a  right  which  has 
been  used  in  all  ages  by  lofty  natures,  when  instituted  means  and  the  low 
morality  of  the  times,  fail  to  stem  growing  corruption.  Such  an  act  could 
not  be  done,  without  overpowering,  unreflecting  earnestness,  and  zeal 
kindled  into  a  flame,  but  this  Divine  earnest  zeal  was  not  unworthy  of  the 
purest,  for  without  it,  in  fallen  times,  nothing  great  can  be  done.  Yet  He 
was  the  Prince  of  Peace.  It  was  not  His  nature  to  strive,  or  to  make  His 
voice  heard  in  the  streets.  To  have  taken  the  tide  of  popular  feeling  at 
the  full,  would  have  led  Him  to  triumphs  for  which  He  had  no  desire,  and 
would  have  been  fatal  to  His  views,  instead  of  advancing  them.  Numbers 
were,  perhaps,  willing  to  have  believed  that  He  might  be  the  Messiah,  had 
He  announced  Himself  as  such,  but  the  Law  had  been  given  of  old  amidst 
thunderings  and  lightnings,  and  they  expected  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah 
to  be  proclaimed  with  equal  sublimity.  Unostentatious  illustrations  of 
Divine  power,  such  as  healing  the  sick,  opening  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  or 
the  ears  of  the  deaf,  were  not  enough.  They  desired  public  and  national 
miracles,  which  would  glorify  Israel  and  astonish  the  world.  But  it  was 
no  part  of  His  plan  to  attract  the  wonder  of  the  crowd,  or  to  minister  to 
national  pride,  or  inaugurate  a  dispensation  of  fear  or  force.  His  Kingdom 
was  in  the  hearts  of  men.  not  in  their  outward  suffrages ;  in  the  calm 
realms  of  truth,  not  in  those  of  political  strife. 


VISIT   TO    JERUSALEM.  319 

The  authorities  could  take  no  violent  measures,  and  contented  them- 
Belves  with  asking  Him  for  some  "  sign,"  to  justify  His  act  by  its  Divine 
authority,  and  incidentally  reveal  His  claim  on  their  homage,  if,  perchance, 
He  might  prove  the  Messiah.  The  question  must  have  raised  that  of  His 
supreme  right  as  consecrated  Son  of  God,  and  involved  the  condemnation 
of  those  by  Avliom  such  a  state  of  things  had  been  allowed.  Wh}^  had 
they,  the  appointed  guardians  of  the  Temple,  been  so  powerless  or  neg- 
ligent against  such  desecration  ?  If  they  had  thus  failed,  who  but  the 
Messiah  alone,  could  cleanse  the  sanctuary,  not  partly,  and  for  a  time,  but 
perfectly,  and  for  ever  ?  Ho  answered  them,  therefore,  as  their  Rabbis 
were  wont  to  do,  with  an  enigmatical  sentence,  which  He  left  them  to 
unriddle  as  they  could.  "  Destroy  this  Temple,"  said  He,  doubtless  point- 
ing as  He  did  so,  to  His  person — that  Temple  of  God,  pure  and  sacred 
bej'ond  all  others — "  and  in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up."  The  sound  of 
the  words  to  a  Jew,  and  their  apparent  meaning,  were  alike  audaciovis. 
He  was  standing  amid  the  long  and  lofty  marble  arcades  of  the  sacred 
building ;  amidst  its  courts,  leaved  with  costliest  stones,  and  rising  terrace 
above  terrace ;  its  vast  spaces,  built  up  with  incredible  labour  and  equal 
magnificence  from  the  valley,  hundreds  of  feet  below ;  its  sanctuar)'  ablaze 
with  gold ;  its  wonderful  gates  of  silver  and  gold  and  Corinthian  brass, 
which  were  the  national  pride.  The  very  existence  of  the  nation  was 
identified  with  the  inviolability  of  the  Temple.  It  had  been  already  build- 
ing for  forty-six  years,  and  was  not  yet  finished,  for  eighteen  thousand 
workmen  were  still  employed  on  some  incomplete  parts  of  it  thirty  years 
after  this,  and  were  paid  off  when  their  work  was  done,  only  a  few  years 
before  the  destruction  of  the  city.  The  passionate  fanaticism  for  a  struc- 
ture so  splendid,  and  so  bound  up  with  the  hojies  and  pride  of  the  nation, 
was  extreme.  It  seemed  to  them  under  the  special  protection  of  Jehovah. 
Antiochus  Epiphanes,  its  great  enemy,  had  perished  miserably  and  shame- 
fully in  Persia.  Crassus,  who  had  jaluudered  its  treasures,  had  fallen  with 
his  army,  amidst  the  thirsty  sands  of  the  desert.  Pompey,  who  had 
intruded  into  the  Holy  of  Holies,  had  been  murdered  by  an  Egyptian 
centurion,  and  his  headless  trunk  had  been  left  exposed  on  the  strand  of 
Egypt.  To  touch  the  Temple  was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jew,  to  incur  the 
vengeance  of  the  Almighty.  Perverting  the  answer  of  Jesl^s,  therefore, 
into  an  allusion  to  the  building  which  they  revered  with  such  a  zealous 
idolatry,  they  tauntingly  reminded  Him  of  the  years  it  had  taken  to  build, 
and  scouted  His  supposed  proposal  to  destroy  and  restore  it  so  quickly. 

No  utterance  ever  fell  from  the  lips  of  Jesus,  of  which  He  did  not  foresee 
the  full  effect,  and  this  answer,  as  He  knew,  was  a  veiled  anticipation  of 
His  earthly  end.  The  cry  that  the  Temple  was  in  danger  would  at  any 
moment  rouse  the  whole  race  to  revenge  the  insult  with  the  fury  of 
despair,  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  The  resentment  felt  at  such  words, 
may  therefore  be  judged.  Three  years  later  it  was  by  their  perversion 
that  the  high  priests  sought  His  death,  and  they  were  coarsely  flung  as  a 
taunt  against  Him,  when  He  hung  on  the  Cross.  ISTor  were  they  forgotten 
even  afterwards,  for  they  were  made  an  aggravation  of  the  charges  against 
the  first  martyr,  Stephen,  as  His  follower. 


320  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

But  tliey  meant  something  of  deepest  significance  to  the  Jews  them- 
selves. Though,  doubtless,  in  their  direct  import  a  concealed  announce- 
ment of  His  own  death  and  resurrection,  they  had  wider  applications. 
"  Your  whole  religion,"  they  implied,  "  in  as  far  as  it  rests  on  this  Temple, 
is  corrupt  and  sunken,  but  He  is  already  here,  who,  when  that  Temple 
passes  away,  as  pass  away  it  must,  will  restore  it  in  unspeakably  greater 
glory,  and  His  doing  so  will  be  the  sign  He  gives."  All  this  lay  in  His 
veiled  sentence.  "  Do  you  really  wish  a  sign  from  Me,  of  my  Divine 
authority  over  tliis  Temple  ?  You  shall  have  the  highest.  Destroy  this 
Temple,  which  will  surely  one  day  fall,  though,  while  it  stands,  I  wish  it 
to  be  pure  and  worthy :  destroy  it,  if  you  choose,  and  with  it  let  all  your 
corrupted  religion  perish :  I  shall,  presently,  rebuild  it  again,  with  far 
greater  glory  than  it  can  now  boast,  for  this  Temple  is  the  desecrated  and 
fallen  work  of  men's  hands,  but  Mine  will  be  pure :  a  Temple  of  the 
religion  of  SjDirit  and  truth,  which  will  be  established  by  My  resurrection 
on  the  third  day,  and  will  be  immortal  and  indestructible." 

In  the  answer  of  Jesus,  indeed,  lay,  already  the  whole  future  of  His 
Church.  The  history  of  His  life  and  of  His  work  is  linked  to  this  earliest 
utterance.  The  magnificent  temple  He  that  day  cleansed  was  soon  to  be 
destroyed,  mainly  through  the  guilt  of  those  who  sought  so  fanatically  to 
preserve  it,  with  all  its  abuses.  But,  even  before  it  rose  in  flames  from 
the  torch  of  the  Roman  soldier,  or  fell,  stone  from  stone,  before  his  tools, 
another  temple,  far  more  wonderful,  had  risen  silently,  in  the  spirits  of 
men,  to  take  its  place— a  temple,  pure  and  eternal,  which  He  had  now 
dimly  foreshadowed,  at  this  first  moment  of  His  public  career.  Yet,  even 
the  Church  was  in  no  such  high  sense  the  Temple  of  God  as  the  mysterious 
person  of  Jesus  Himself — the  holiest  tabernacle  of  God  amongst  men  ever 
vouchsafed,  the  true  Shekinah,  the  visible  incarnation  of  the  Divine. 
After  the  crucifixion,  and  the  resurrection,  the  exact  fulfilment  of  His 
words,  in  these  two  great  events,  struck  the  imagination  of  the  discijiles 
more  than  any  other  meaning  they  might  have.  "  He  spoke  of  the  Temple 
of  His  body."     True  in  other  senses,  it  was  pre-eminently  so  in  this. 

With  such  an  old  prophet-like  first  appearance,  followed  up,  as  it  was, 
by  acts  of  miraculous  power,  equal,  no  doubt,  in  character  and  greatness, 
to  the  examples  elsewhere  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  it  is  no  wonder  to  learn 
that  many  believed  on  Him.  Yet  He  received  no  one  into  the  circle  of 
His  closer  personal  following  from  those  thus  impressed.  No  Scribe  or 
Rabbi,  no  wealthy  citizen,  not  even  a  common  townsman  of  Jerusalem,  was 
called  to  follow  Him.  "  He  did  not  trust  Himself  to  them,"  nor  honour 
any  of  them  with  the  confidence  He  had  shown  in  some  of  His  Galiltean 
disciples.  Nor  did  He  relax  this  caution  at  any  future  time ;  for  though 
He  gained  many  friends  in  Judea,  as  wo  discover  incidentally.  He  sur- 
rounded Himself  with  Galilasans  to  the  end  of  His  life.  The  people  of 
Jerusalem  contrasted  unfavourably  with  the  simpler  peasants  of  the  north  : 
they  were  curious  and  excitable,  rather  than  deep  and  earnest,  and  the 
wisdom  of  the  schools,  which  flourished  especially  under  the  shadow  of 
the  Temple,  was  pre-eminently  unfitted  to  understand  Him,  or  ally  itself 
closely  with   Him.     The  keen  glance  of   Jesus  saw  this   from  the   first. 


VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  32i 

There  were,  doubtless,  many  of  the  rich  and  influential  men  of  Jerusalem 
who  felt  the  shortcomings  of  the  prevailing  school-wisdom  and  priestly 
system,  and,  fretting  uneasily  under  the  rule  of  a  Herod,  or  of  a  Roman 
governor,  were  well  inclined  to  join  a  true  Israelitish  king ;  many,  possibly, 
who  even  secretly  admired  Jesus,  and  were  ready  to  recognise  Him  as  the 
Messiah,  as  soon  as  they  could  do  so  safely.  But  John,  who  was  himself  a 
Galilfean,  and  knew  that  Jesus  had  made  only  Galileans  His  confidential 
friends,  reveals  in  his  sententious  epigrammatical  way.  His  estimate  of 
such  doubtful  support.  "  He  did  not  trust  Himself  to  them  because  He 
knew  all  men,  and  because  He  needed  not  that  any  should  bear  witness 
respecting  Him,  as  man."  A  cheerful  witness  to  Him  as  the  Sou  of  God, 
He  always  welcomed,  when  it  came  freely ;  but  as  to  the  other — He  kne^r 
men's  hearts.  He  could  see  that  they  were  willing  to  honour  Him  as  a 
human  king,  and  that,  only  from  His  wondei'ful  works  and  miracles,  and 
they,  unmistakably,  exjjected  a  human  kingdom  at  His  hands.  To  rule, 
as  a  man  over  men,  it  would  have  been  needful  to  seek  the  support  of  the 
powerful,  who  would  lend  themselves  for  personal  ends,  and  act  on  mere 
human  maxims.  But  such  men  would  be  no  counsellors,  helpers,  or 
servants  in  founding  and  spreading  the  Kingdom  of  Truth. 

Among  the  upper  class  of  citizens,  however,  there  was  one,  the  repre- 
sentative of  many  whose  names  ai'e  unrecorded,  who  was  deeply  moved  by 
the  words  and  acts  of  the  young  Galitean.  He  bore  the  Greek  name 
Nicodemus,  and  was  a  ruler,  or  foremost  man,  in  the  religious  world  of 
'Jerusalem,  a  member  of  its  governing  class,  and,  in  sentiment  and  party, 
a  Pharisee.  He  was,  moreover,  wealthy,  and,  thus,  in  many  respects,  one 
whose  support,  at  such  a  time,  would  have  been  eagerly  grasped  at,  had 
Jesus  proposed  to  found  a  kingdom  in  which  the  aids  of  human  expediency 
were  admitted,  as  in  political  systems.  He  was  a  man  of  advanced  years 
and  high  position,  and  might,  no  doubt,  hfive  done  good  service  to  Christ's 
worldly  interests  among  the  influential  classes,  and  have  even  heljied 
towards  a  coalition  of  the  priests  and  Pharisees  with  Him,  had  His  aims 
been  national  and  religio-political,  like  theirs.  There  was,  inevitably,  a 
strong  prejudice  in  Jerusalem,  against  a  movement  which  had  begun  in 
Galilee  and  was  supported  by  Galilteans,  and  Nicodemus  might  have  helped 
to  counteract  it.  It  was  a  condition  of  his  connection  with  Jesus,  however 
that  it  should  be  secret.  Constitutionally  timid,  he  could  not  brave  the 
social  proscrijition  and  ridicule  which  would  follow  an  open  adherence ; 
for,  though  no  overt  hostility  to  the  New  Teacher  had  yet  broken  out  in 
the  class  to  which  he  belonged,  it  was  clear  that  its  doing  so  was  only  a 
question  of  time.  He  was  honest,  and  earnest,  but  could  not  yet  make  the 
sacrifice  an  open  alliance  demanded.  Indeed,  his  caution  clung  to  him  to 
the  end  of  Christ's  life,  for  in  the  only  two  instances  in  which  his  name 
re-appears,  his  weak  indirectness  is  plainly  shown.  At  a  later  period, 
when  the  rulers  had  determined  to  use  violence  against  Jesus,  we  find  him 
trying  to  turn  them  aside  from  their  purpose,  by  a  general  question  which 
did  not  commit  himself,  and  when  all  was  over,  it  was  not  till  he  had  caught 
spirit  enough  from  the  example  of  one  of  his  own  class,  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea,  that  he  ventured  to  own  his  reverence  for  the  dead  Saviour,  by 

Y 


322  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

bringing  his  bountiful  gifts  of  spices  to  embalm  Him.     At  his  first  inter- 
view, he  did  not  venture  to  visit  Jesus  openly,  but  came  to  Him  by  night. 

As  a  Eabbi,  Nicodemus  was  necessarily  skilled  in  the  subtle  expositions 
of  the  Law  for  which  his  oi'der  was  famous,  and  must  have  been  familiar 
with  the  Scriptures  throughout,  but  he  had  been  trained  in  the  artificial 
explanations  of  the  schools,  and  was  profoundly  unconscious  of  their  deeper 
meaning.  Like  others,  he  supposed  that  the  Messiah  would  set  up  a 
theocracy  distinguished  by  zealous  fulfilment  of  the  Law ;  every  Israelite, 
as  such,  forming  a  member  of  it.  Greeting  Jesus  as  one  whom  he,  and 
others  in  his  position,  acknowledged  to  be  a  Eabbi,  he  opened  the  interview 
by  a  compliment,  intended  to  lead  to  the  point  he  had  at  heart.  Any 
question  as  to  his  own  admission  to  the  Messiah's  kingdom  had  not  crossed 
his  mind.  The  traditions  of  his  brother  Rabbis  had  taught  him  that  while 
"  the  nations  of  the  world  would  be  as  the  burning  of  a  furnace  in  the 
great  Day  of  Judgmeiit,  Israel,  as  such,  would  be  saved ;  "  that  "  there  was 
a  part  allotted  to  all  Israel  in  the  world  to  come,"  or,  in  other  words,  in 
the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah.  "  God  had  sanctified  Israel  to  Hiniself  for 
ever,"  and  made  every  Jew  as  such,  on  a  footing,  as  to  His  love  and  favour, 
with  "all  the  Angels  of  the  Presence,  and  all  the  Angels  of  Praise,  and 
with  all  the  Holy  Angels  that  stand  before  Him."  Hence,  he  only  wished 
to  know  the  duties  required  of  him  as  a  member  of  the  Messianic  king- 
dom, which  Jesus  appeared  to  be  sent  from  God  to  set  vip.  Christ,  in  an 
instant,  saw  into  the  speaker's  heart.  So  far  from  making  any  attempt  to 
win  him,  or  from  abating  His  demands,  as  a  compromise  in  favour  of  one 
whose  support  might  be  so  advantageous,  He  cut  him  short  by  a  statement 
which  must  have  thrown  his  whole  thoughts  into  confusion.  Trusting 
implicitly  to  his  being  a  Jew,  as  a  Divine  title  to  citizenship  in  the  new 
theocracy,  and  thinking  only  of  formal  acts  by  which  he  might  show  his 
devotion,  and  increase  his  claim  to  the  favour  of  God,  liero  and  hereafter, 
he  is  met  by  an  announcement  that  neither  national  descent,  nor  the  utter- 
most exactness  of  Pharisaic  observance,  nor  any  good  works,  however 
great,  availed  at  all  as  such,  to  secure  entrance  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 
He  had  supposed  Jesus  a  Eabbi,  and  had  expected  to  hear  some  new  legal 
precepts,  but  is  told  that  not  only  has  he  no  title  whatever,  as  a  Jew,  to 
share  in  the  new  kingdom,  but  that  he  cannot  hope  to  earn  one.  Jewish 
theology  knew  nothing  higher  than  an  exact  equivalent  in  good  or  evil, 
for  every  act.  "  An  eye  for  an  eye,"  both  here  and  hereafter,  was  its  only 
conception.  A  legal  precisian  had  a  right  to  heaven ;  the  neglect  of  Levi- 
tical  righteousness  shut  its  gates  on  the  soul. 

Jesus  broadly  told  him  that  his  whole  conceptions  were  fundamentally 
wrong.  "  Every  man,  whatever  his  legal  standing,  must  be  born  again,  if 
he  would  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  To  do  so  is  not  a  question  of  outward 
acts,  legal,  or  moral,  but  of  their  motive."  The  idea  of  being  "born 
again "  should  not  have  been  incomprehensible  to  a  Jewish  Eabbi,  for  it 
was  a  saying  of  the  Scribes  that  "  a  proselyte  is  like  a  child  new  born," 
and  "  circumcision  of  the  heart,"  and  the  "  creating  a  clean  heart  and 
renewing  a  right  spirit,"  are  expressions  that  must  have  been  familiar  to 
him  in  the  Law,  the  Prophets,  and  the  Psalms.     But  the  full  meaning  of 


VISIT   TO   JERUSALEM.  ■         323 

sncli  terius  had  been  lost  in  tlio  prevailing  externalism.  He  took  the 
words  in  their  literal  sense.  In  his  perplexity,  he  supposed  that  what  was 
demanded  was  in  some  way  connected  with  his  nationality,  which,  he 
assumed,  already  opened  an  unquestioned  entrance  for  hini  into  the 
theocracy. 

Jesus  saw  his  embarrassment,  and  forthwith  explained  His  meaning 
more  fully.  '"The  kingdom  of  God,"  He  told  him, '•' was  none  the  less  a 
true  kingdom  that  it  stood  aloof  from  politics,  and  had  none  of  the  out- 
ward characteristics  of  carthlj^  states.  It  had  no  civil  judges,  but  it  had 
its  laws,  and  by  these  all  its  su])jects  would  hereafter  be  tried,  beyond  the 
grave.  It  had  its  conditions  of  acceptance,  also,  and  these  were,  belief  in 
Himself  as  its  Founder,  Legislator,  and  future  Judge,  and  open  confession 
of  that  belief  by  the  rite  of  Baptism,  with  which  Nicodemus  was  already 
familiar,  from  the  ministry  of  John.  There  could  bo  no  admission  of  any 
one,  high  or  low,  at  a  secret  interview,  to  be  followed  by  concealment  of 
the  relation  thus  formed  with  Himself.  There  must  be  personal  homage 
and  submission  to  Him,  but  it  must  also  be  frankly  and  publicly  avowed." 

Nor  was  Mcodemus  left  to  siipposc  that  any  outward  and  formal  act, 
even  if  inclusive  of  these  demands,  would  alone  suffice.  Baptism  was  but 
the  symbol  of  a  spiritual  revolution  so  complete  that  it  might  well  be 
described  as  a  new  birth.  All  men  were  by  nature  sinful,  and  needed  a 
moral  transformation,  which  would  make  them  as  naturally  seek  the  pure 
and  holy  as  they  had  sought  the  opposite.  Citizenship  in  His  kingdom 
was  a  gift  of  God  Himself ;  the  re-creation  of  the  moral  nature  by  His 
Spirit,  through  which  the  soul  hungered  after  good,  as,  before,  it  had  done 
after  sin. 

Nov  was  ISTicodemus  to  wonder  at  such  a  statement.  God's  influence  on 
the  heart  was  like  the  flowing  wind — free,  felt,  and  yet  mysterious.  It 
came  as  it  listed,  its  presence  was  felt  by  its  results,  but  all  besides  was 
beyond  our  knowledge. 

Teaching  so  fundamentally  different  from  all  his  previous  ideas,  and 
involving  conceptions  so  unique  and  sublime,  was  for  the  time  incompre- 
hensible. The  startled  listener  could  only  mutter,  "  Hoav  can  these  things 
be  ?  "  ISTicodemus,  it  seems  very  probable,  was  one  of  the  chief  men  of  the 
religious  world  in  Jerusalem,  for  the  three  officers  of  the  Sanhedrim, 
while  it  existed,  were  the  President,  the  Yice-President,  and  the  "Master," 
or  wise  man,  and  Jesus  appears  to  address  him  as  "  Master,"  in  subdued 
reproach  at  his  perplexity.  "  Art  thou,"  He  asked,  "  the  teacher," — well 
known  and  recognised  as  such — the  wise  man — even  by  title,  "  and  dost 
not  know  these  things  ?  I  speak  only  what  I  know  and  have  seen  in  the 
eternal  world,  and  you  hesitate  to  believe  Me.  If  I  have  told  you  thus  of 
what  is  matter  of  experience,  and  runs  its  course  in  the  human  heart 
during  this  earthly  life,  and  you  think  it  incompreliensible,  how  will  you 
believe  if  I  tell  you  the  higher  truths  of  the  Kingdom — those  heavenly 
mysteries  which  concern  the  plan  of  God  for  the  salvation  of  man  ?  No 
other  can  reveal  such  matters,  for  no  man  has  ever  ascended  to  heaven 
to  learn  them  ;  but  I  am  He— the  Messiah,  foretold,  as  the  Son  of  Man,  by 
your  prophet  Daniel — who  have  come  down  from  heaven,  and,  even  now, 


324  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

have  there  My  peculiar  home  and  seat.  Let  Me  vouchsafe  you  some 
glimpses  of  tlie  true  nature  of  My  kingdom.  I  come  not  as  a  triumphant 
earthly  monarch,  but  to  sufPer.  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the 
wilderness,  to  save  those  who  believed  in  it,  so  must  I  be  lifted  up— how 
you  shall  know  hereafter— that  all  who  believe  in  Me  may  not  perish,  but 
have  eternal  life.  I  have  come  to  carry  o^^t,  as  a  suffering  Messiah,  the 
high  purpose  of  God's  eternal  love  for  the  salvation  of  man. 

"  You  seek  eternal  life  :  it  can  be  had  only  by  believing  on  Me.  He  who 
does  so,  has  his  reward  even  here,  in  the  love,  light,  and  peace  which  flow 
from  the  gift  of  the  Spirit,  and  are  the  earnest  of  future  glory.  I  have  not 
come  to  judge  men,  for  to  judge  would  have  been  to  condemn.  I  come  to 
save.  They  who  reject  Me  are,  indeed,  judged  and  condemned  already, 
for  when  I,  the  Light,  have  come  to  them,  they  have  shown  their  character 
by  preferring  the  darkness  of  sin.  Men  separate  themselves  into  good 
and  evil,  before  God,  by  tlieir  bearing  towards  Me.  The  evil  wish  not  to 
be  disturbed,  and  to  be  let  stay  in  moral  darkness,  to  follow  out  their  sin- 
ful desires  ;  but  he  who  seeks  the  truth  comes  to  Me  to  have  more  light. 
Thus,  the  evil  stand  self -condemned :  the  good  rejoice  in  their  growing 
light,  as  a  foretaste  of  heaven." 

The  astonishing  originality  of  such  language  is  altogether  unique.  At 
His  first  appearance,  though  still  a  young  man,  without  the  sanction  of 
success,  or  the  weight  of  position,  or  the  countenance  of  the  schools,  Jesus 
bears  Himself,  with  calm  unconsciousness  of  effort,  as  altogether  superior 
to  His  visitor.  A  born  Jew,  He  speaks  as  the  Lawgiver  of  a  new  theo- 
cracy which  He  has  come  to  found,  in  place  of  that  of  Moses,  whom  they 
almost  worshipped.  He  lays  down  conditioiis  of  unbending  strictness,  as 
indispensable  to  an  entrance  into  the  new  community  thus  to  be  estab- 
lished, though  He  has  nothing  to  offer  but  privation  and  self-denial,  as 
the  earthly  result  of  joining  it.  He  moves  at  His  ease  amidst  subjects 
the  most  august  and  mysterious  :  demands  the  personal  homage  of  those 
who  would  enter  His  kingdom,  and  promises  eternal  life  as  the  reward  of 
sincere  accejitance  of  His  claims.  Repudiating  the  aids  to  which  others 
might  have  looked  ;  seeking  no  support  from  the  powerful  or  from  the 
crowd,  to  facilitate  His  design ;  He  speaks  of  Himself,  even  now,  when 
obscure  and  alone,  as  a  king,  and  shows  a  serene  composure  in  extending 
His  royalty  over  even  the  souls  of  men.  In  the  presence  of  a  famous 
Eabbi,  he  claims  to  be  the  light  to  which  all  men,  without  exception,  must 
come,  who  love  the  truth.  His  first  utterance  anticipates  the  highest 
claims  of  His  last.  An  humble  Galilasan,  easy  of  access,  sympathetic,  ob- 
scure. He  calmly  announces  Himself  as  the  Son  of  Man,  whose  home  is 
heaven:  as  knowing  the  counsels  of  God  from  eternity:  as  the  only-be- 
gotten Son  of  the  Eternal,  and  the  arbiter  of  eternal  life  or  death  to  the 
world.  It  is  idle  to  speak  of  any  merely  human  utterances,  even  of  the 
greatest  and  best  of  our  race,  in  the  presence  of  such  thoughts  and  words 
as  these  :  they  are  the  voice  of  a  higher  sphere,  though  falling  from  tlie 
lips  of  One  who  walked  as  a  man  amongst  men. 


FROM   JERUSALEM   TO    SAMARIA.  325 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

FIIOM:   JERUSALEM   TO    SAMAUIA. 

r  I  1  HE  stay  of  Jesus  in  Jerusalem  was  short,  for  He  had  corne  up  only 
-■-  to  attend  the  Passover,  and  to  open  His  Great  Commission  in  the 
religious  centre  of  the  nation,  before  the  vast  throngs  of  pilgrims  fre- 
quenting the  feast.  ISTor  were  the  results  disappointing,  for  "  many  be- 
lieved in  His  name,  when  they  saw  the  miracles  which  He  did  "  during 
the  week.  With  the  departure  of  the  multitudes,  however,  He  also  left,  to 
enter,  with  His  disciples,  on  His  first  wide  circuit  of  preaching  and  teach- 
ing ;  for,  though  a  beginning  had  already  been  made  in  Galilee,  it  had 
been  on  a  much  smaller  scale. 

The  district  thus  favoured  embraced  the  whole  of  Judea,  which  extended, 
on  the  south,  to  the  edge  of  the  wilderness  at  Bccrshcba,  far  below  Hebron; 
to  the  lowlands  of  the  Philistine  plain,  on  the  west ;  to  the  line  of  the 
Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea,  on  the  east,  and,  on  the  north,  to  Akrabbim,  the 
frontier  village  of  Samaria,  which  lay  among  the  hills,  twenty-five  miles, 
as  the  crow  flies,  from  Jerusalem.  We  have  the  authority  of  the  Apostle 
Peter,  who  very  likely  shared  the  journey,  that  it  extended  "  throughout 
all  Judea,"  but  we  have  no  record  of  the  towns  and  villages  thus  early 
favoured  with  the  Message  of  the  New  Kingdom. 

How  long  the  tour  lasted  we  do  not  know ;  but  it  must  have  occupied 
some  months,  for  He  "tarried  "  from  time  to  time  at  different  points.  Ho 
Himself  preaching  and  teaching,  and  His  disciples  baptizmg  the  converts 
gained.  It  was  not  fitting  that  Jesus  should  Himself  administer  the  rite 
which  admitted  citizens  to  His  spiritual  kingdom.  Baptism,  which  had 
been  introduced  by  John  as  a  symbol  of  repentance  and  spiritual  renewal, 
in  expectation  of  the  coming  Messiah,  had  now  acquired  the  far  grander 
significance  of  a  profession  of  faith  in  Jesus,  as  the  Messiah  already  come. 
John's  baptism  had  implied  a  vow  to  live  in  the  strict  and  painful  Jewish 
asceticism  of  washings,  fasts,  and  legal  observances  ;  that  of  Jesus  trans- 
formed this  life  into  one  of  Divine  liberty  and  loving  joy.  Tlie  material 
baptism,  moreover,  was  but  the  symbol,  and  might  well  be  left  to  His 
discij^les.  Himself  retaining  the  far  grander  ministry  of  the  dispensation 
of  the  Spirit,  which  cleansed  the  moral  nature,  as  water  did  the  body. 
They  had  the  emblem  :  He,  as  became  a  King,  kept  in  His  own  hands  the 
substance  and  reality.  To  preach  the  Gospel,  not  to  baptize,  was  hereafter, 
even  in  St.  Paul's  view,  the  special  commission  of  an  Apostle.  Humbler 
agencies  could  be  left  to  perform  the  rite  :  to  the  higher  office  Jesus 
devoted  His  higher  rank. 

The  introduction  of  baptism  at  the  beginning  of  our  Lord's  ministry,  is 
mentioned  only  by  St.  John.  It  may  be  that  this  is  simply  an  instance  of 
the  omissions  of  the  Evangelists,  and  that  careful  examination  v\'ould  find 
indirect  indications  that  it  not  merely  began  with  the  opening  of  Christ's 
ministi-y,  but  continued,  throughout,  till  the  close.  Yet,  both  St.  Matthew 
and  St.  Mark  mention  the  command  given  by  Jesus,  immediately  before 
His  ascension,  to  baptize  all  nations,  without  any  indication  of  its  being 


32G  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

tlie  continuance  of  an  existing  custom,  rather  than  the  reintroduction  of 
what  had  been  for  a  time  in  abeyance.  Possibly,  the  extension  of  the  rite 
to  all  nations,  may  have  been  the  special  reason  of  its  being  thus  promin- 
ently noticed;  but,  more  probably,  the  opposition  of  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities,  which  broke  out  into  active  hostility  as  soon  as  the  new  move- 
ment grew  popular,  and  forced  Jesus  to  leave  Judea,  made  it  necessary  to 
disarm  opposition  by  suspending  the  practice. 

The  ecclesiastical  world  of  the  day — priests,  elders,  and  scribes— had 
rejected  the  mission  of  John.  They  had  inquired  into  his  claims,  attended 
his  preaching,  and  held  intercourse  with  his  disciples,  but  they  had  not 
been  baptized.  They  "rejected  the  counsel  of  God  against  themselves," 
and  even  went  so  far,  in  order  to  discredit  John  with  the  multitude,  as  to 
insinuate  that  he  "had  a  devil."  His  real  offence  was  having  stood  aloof 
from  them,  the  established  religious  authorities  ;  and  he  had  shocked  their 
self-complacency,  and  impeached  their  theology,  by  declaring  the  worth- 
lessness,  before  God,  of  mere  nationality.  But  Jesus  was  already  treading 
in  the  same  steps,  and  had  shown  even  greater  independence  of  the  priests 
and  Kabbis,  in  His  acts  and  teachings  ;  in  His  cleansing  the  Temple,  and 
in  His  discourse  with  Nicodemus.  Before  long,  moreover.  His  movement 
assumed  greater  importance  than  that  of  John,  and  threatened  to  draw 
the  whole  nation  from  allegiance  to  the  dignitaries  of  Jerusalem.  The 
fate  of  John,  moreover,  was  perhaps,  in  great  part,  due  to  his  being  under 
official  censure,  and  it  is  not  improbable,  if  Salim  were  in  Judea,  or  even 
in  Samaria,  as  many  suppose,  that  the  machinations  of  the  authorities  had 
contributed  to  his  arrest,  and  to  his  being  handed  over  to  Antipas.  He 
had  fled  for  safety  to  the  west  side  of  the  Jordan,  to  be  tinder  Eoman  law ; 
but  it  is  wholly  in  keeping  with  Pilate's  treacherous  nature  to  believe, 
that  in  his  dread  of  the  priests  and  Rabbis,  the  Roman  governor  consented 
to  seize  the  prophet,  and  deliver  him  up  to  death,  as  he  afterwards  did 
with  Jesus  Himself.  Having  such  a  catastrophe  in  mind,  it  would  have 
been  opposed  to  the  calm  prudence  with  which  Jesus  at  all  times  acted,  to 
have  sought  the  publicity  and  excitement  soon  developed  in  connection 
with  his  early  baptismal  gatherings. 

It  is  a  question,  besides,  whether  the  official  opposition,  which  made 
any  action  inexpedient  that  tended  to  agitate  the  public  mind,  did  not, 
also,  compel  delay  in  the  outward  organization  of  the  new  communion 
which  Jesus  came  to  found.  His  spiritual  kingdom  could  be  proclaimed, 
its  laws  and  privileges  made  known,  and  citizens  quietly  gained  as  dis- 
ciples, but  their  final  enrolment  as  a  distinct  society  would  likely  have 
resiilted  in  the  instant  arrest  of  their  Leader.  The  air  was  too  full  of 
political  rumours,  in  connection  with  a  national  Messiah,  to  have  made  that 
organization  practicable  while  Jesus  lived,  which  was  at  once  announced 
after  His  death.  If  this  were  so,  baptism,  as  the  symbol  of  entrance  into 
the  New  Society,  might  be  well  deferred  till  the  Church  was  actually 
begun,  on  the  day  of  Pentecost. 

The  burden  of  Christ's  preaching,  while  journeying  throughout  Judea, 
was,  no  doubt,  the  same  as  that  of  His  Galiltean  ministry  a  little  later, 
and  as  that  of  John— "Repent,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand." 


FROM   JERUSALEM   TO    SAMARIA.  327 

The  time  had  uot  yet  come  for  His  openly  proclaiming  Himself  as  the 
Messiah,  though  He  acted  from  the  first  as  such,  -without  formally  assum- 
ing the  title.  To  have  done  so  would  have  arrested  His  work  at  once, 
while  His  acts  and  words,  without  compromising  Him  with  the  authorities, 
were  such  as  forced  men,  and  even  the  spirits  He  cast  out,  to  own  His 
true  dignity.  Indeed,  the  very  nature  of  a  spiritual  kingdom  like  His, 
founded  necessarily  only  on  the  free  convictions  of  men,  not  on  assertion 
or  authority,  demanded  this  reticence.  The  heart  of  man,  which  was  to  be 
the  seat  of  His  empire,  could  he  won  only  by  the  spiritual  attractions 
of  His  life  and  words.  Faith  and  loving  obedience  could  only  spring  from 
sympathy  with  the  truth  and  goodness  His  whole  existence  displayed,  and 
this  sympathy  must  be  spontaneous  in  each  new  disciple,  and  was  often  of 
slow  attainment.  The  kingdom,  to  use  His  own  illustrations,  must  grow 
from  almost  unperceived  beginnings,  in  slow  development,  like  the 
mustard  seed,  and  spread  by  silent  and  unseen  advance,  like  leaven.  It 
was,  in  its  very  nature,  to  come  "  without  observation" — unmarked— for 
it  was  not  political,  like  earthly  kingdoms,  but  the- invisible  reign  of  truth 
in  the  souls  of  men — a  growth  of  opinion — a  kingdom  not  of  this  world. 

In  this  opening  period  John  still  continued  his  great  preparatory  work. 
He  had  crossed  from  the  eastern  to  the  western  side  of  Jordan,  and  was 
baptizing  at  Enon,  near  Salim — a  place  the  position  of  which  is  not 
positively  known.  He  had,  apparently,  expected  Jesus  to  begin  His  work 
as  the  Messiah,  by  an  open  assumption  of  the  title,  and  seems  to  have  been 
at  a  loss  to  account  for  a  comparative  privacy  so  different  from  his 
anticipations.  The  idea  of  a  great  national  movement,  with  Jesus  at  its 
head,  was  natural  to  him,  nor  does  he  seem  to  have  realized  that  the 
sublimest  self-proclamation  our  Lord  could  make  was  by  the  still  small 
voice  of  His  Divine  life  and  words.  He  was  waiting  calmly  for  a  signal  to 
retire,  which  had  not  yet  been  given.  Nor  was  it  a  superfluous  work  to 
continue  to  point  the  multitudes  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  thus  prepare 
them,  by  the  weight  of  a  testimony  so  revered,  for  accepting  Him  to  whom 
He  thus  directed  them. 

Human  nature,  however,  is  always  the  same ;  ready  to  show  its  weak- 
ness, even  in  connection  with  what  is  most  sacred.  The  grand  humility 
of  John — inaccessible  to  a  jealous  thought — was  contented  to  be  a  mere 
voice,  sending  men  away  from  himself  to  liis  great  successor.  But  his 
followers  were  not,  in  all  cases,  so  lowly,  and  occasion  soon  offered  which 
gave  their  feelings  expression.  A  Jew,  who  had,  apparently,  attended 
the  ministry  of  both  John  and  Jesus,  had  shown  the  common  bias  of  his 
race  by  getting  into  a  discussion  with  some  of  John's  disciples,  about  the 
comparative  value  of  their  master's  baptism  as  a  means  of  purification, 
perhaps  both  morally  and  Levitically,  compared  with  tliat  of  Jesus.  A 
theological  controversy  between  Jews,  as  between  Christians,  is  dangerous 
to  the  temper,  and,  indeed,  the  Rabbis  denounced  cpietness  and  composure 
in  such  matters  as  a  sign  of  relisrious  indifference.  Warmth  and  bitter- 
ness  were  assumed  to  prove  zeal  for  the  Law.  Hence,  no  doubt,  there 
was  abundant  heat  and  wrangling  on  an  occasion  like  this,  the  whole 
resulting  in  a  feeling  of  irritation  and  jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  cham- 


323  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

pions  of  John,  against  One  who  had  thus  been  set  up  as  his  rival.  In  this 
spirit  thc}^  returned  to  their  master,  and  proceeded  to  relieve  their  minds 
by  telling  him  that  He  who  was  with  him  beyond  Jordan,  to  whom  he  had 
borne  witness,  and  to  whom  he  had  thus  given  a  standing  and  influence, 
had  Himself  begun  to  baptize.  It  appeared  like  unfair  rivalry,  and  was 
creating  just  such  a  sensation  as  John  had  caused  at  first,  for  now  all 
were  flocking  to  the  nevf  Kabbi,  as,  formerly,  to  the  banks  of  the  Jordan. 

T]ie  greatness  of  the  Baptist  could  not  have  been  shown  more  strikingly 
than  in  his  reply  to  a  comjalaint  so  fitted  to  touch  his  personal  sensibilities. 
"  You  are  wrong,"  said  he,  "  in  thinking  thus  of  Him  to  whom  you  refer. 
If  He  meet  such  success,  it  is  given  Him  from  God,  for  a  man  can  receive 
nothing  except  it  have  been  given  him  from  heaven.  You  can  yourselves 
bear  witness  that  I  said,  '  I  am  not  the  Christ,  but  am  sent  before  Him.' " 
John  was  regarded  by  the  nation  at  large  as  a  prophet,  a^nd,  as  such,  ho 
was  venerated  so  greatly,  that,  even  after  his  death,  many  explained  the 
miracles  of  Jesus  by  supposing  that  He  was  John,  risen  again  from  the 
dead,  clothed  with  the  transcendent  powers  of  the  spirit  world  from  which 
he  had  returned.  Later  still,  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  were  afraid  the 
people  would  stone  them  if  they  spoke  of  his  baptism  as  merely  human. 
He  was  now  the  foremost  man  in  the  land,  but  his  splendid  humility 
never  for  a  moment  deserted  him.  "  He  may  make  no  kingly  show,"  he 
continued,  "  and  may  have  raised  no  excitement,  but  He  is  far  above  me. 
You  know  how  the  friend  of  the  bride  leads  her  home  to  the  bridegroom — 
how  he  goes  before  the  choir  of  companions  that  escort  her,  and  brings 
her,  with  loud  rejoicings,  to  her  lord.  I  am  only  that  friend,  the  Kingdom 
of  God  is  the  bride,  and  Jesus  the  Heavenly  Bridegroom.  The  proi^hets  of 
old  have  foretold  the  espousals  of  heaven  and  earth :  they  are  fast  ap- 
proaching :  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  is  even  now  at  hand,  and  will 
fulfil  the  promise.  Let  us  be  glad,  and  rejoice,  and  give  honour  to  Him, 
for  the  marriage  of  the  Lamb  is  come,  and  His  wife  has  made  herself 
ready.  The  friend  listens  for  the  Bridegroom's  voice,  to  obey  His  com- 
mands, and  promote  His  joy,  and  rejoices  to  hear  it,  when  he  has  led  the 
bride  to  Him.  My  joy  is  fulfilled,  in  having  stirred  up  the  multitude  to 
flock  to  the  ministrations  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and  I  rejoice  in  His  being 
so  near  me  that  I  seem  to  catch  His  voice.  He  must  increase ;  I  must 
decrease.  I  am  but  the  morning  star;  He,  the  rising  sun.  He  comes 
from  above,  and  is,  thus,  above  all ;  I  am  only  a  man  like  yourselves,  of  the 
earth,  and  speak  as  a  man,  what  I  have  been  sent  by  God  to  utter.  He  is 
the  Messiah  from  heaven,  and  speaks  what  He  has  seen  and  heard  in  the 
eternal  world — speaks  from  His  own  direct  knowledge.  I  only  repeat 
what  may  be  revealed  to  me,  here  below.  My  mission  is  well-nigh  over, 
and  I  now  only  finish  my  testimony  before  I  finally  vanish.  But,  though 
thus  worthy  of  all  honour,  few  receive  His  witness :  it  is  an  evil  genera- 
tion, that  seeks  a  Messiah  very  different  from  the  holy  Messiah  of  God. 
He  who  believes  in  Him  glorifies  the  faithfulness  of  God  in  fulfilling  His 
promises  to  send  salvation  to  man.  Tor  the  Gospel  He  proclaims  is  bub 
the  utterance  of  the  precious  words  of  God  the  Father  to  our  race,  and, 
thus,  in  believing  His  Son,  we  honour  Him  who  sent  Him.     Prophets,  and 


FROM   JERUSALEM   TO    SAMARIA.  329 

even  I,  the  Baptist,  receive  tlic  Spirit  only  in  the  measure  God  is  pleased 
to  grant,  but  God  pours  out  His  gifts  on  Him  without  measure." 

Such  thoughts  filled  the  speaker's  heart  with  teuder  adoration,  which 
embodied  itself  in  closing  words  of  wondrous  sublimity.  "  You  may  well 
believe  on  Him,"  said  he,  "  for  the  Father  has  given  all  things  into  His 
hand — eternal  life  and  outer  darkness.  He  has  not  only  the  Divine  anoint- 
ing of  the  Messiah,  but  the  awful  power.  To  be  saved  by  the  works  of  the 
Law  is,  moreover,  hopeless :  faith  in  Him  is  the  one  Salvation.  It  is 
momentous,  therefore,  that  you  receive  Him,  for  to  reject  Him  is  to  perish. 
Blessed  is  he  who  believes  in  Him :  he  has,  even  now,  the  beginnings  in 
his  soul. of  the  Divine  life  which  survives  death,  and  never  dies.  Woe  to 
him  who  will  not  hear  His  voice.  He  shall  never  see  life ;  but  the  wrath 
of  God  will  burn  against  him  abidingly !  " 

•Jesus  had  now  remained  in  Judea  about  nine  months,  from  tlie  Pass- 
over, in  April,  to  the  winter  sowing  time,  in  December  or  January.  The 
crowds  that  came  to  hear  Him,  though  rarely  to  receive  His  "  witness," 
grew  daily  larger,  and  His  fame  spread  far  and  near,  even  to  Galilee.  His 
very  success,  however,  in  attracting  numbers,  made  His  retirement  to 
another  district  necessary,  for  in  Judea  He  was  under  the  keen  and  un- 
friendly eyes  of  the  bigoted  religious  world  of  Jerusalem,  who  saw  in  Him 
a  second  rival,  more  dangarous  than  the  Baptist.  His  bearing  towards 
them  had  been  seen  in  the  cleansing  of  the  Temple,  and  His  miracles  were 
likely  to  give  Him  even  more  power  over  the  people  than  John  had  had, 
and  to  lead  them  to  a  revolt  from  the  legal  slavery  to  Eabbinical  rules,  in 
which  the  Jerusalem  Scribes  and  Pha^risees  held  them.  There  had,  as  yet, 
been  no  open  hostility,  but  it  was  not  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  Jesus 
to  provoke  persecution.  His  hour  had  not  yet  come,  and  to  brave  danger 
at  present,  when  duty  did  not  demand  it,  would  have  been  contrary  to  His 
whole  nature.  Hereafter,  when  duty  called  Him  to  do  so.  He  would  volun- 
tarily come,  not  to  Judea  alone,  but  to  Jerusalem,  though  He  knew  it 
meant  His  death. 

But,  apart  from  the  kindling  jealousy  of  the  Pharisees,  the  people  them- 
selves were  sufficient  explanation  of  the  return  of  Jesus  to  Galilee.  He 
was  no  mere  popularity  hunter,  flattered  by  the  idle  curiosity  that  drew 
crowds  to  see  what  wonder  He  might  perform.  He  attracted  crowds,  but 
yet  His  mission,  in  the  only  light  in  which  He  regarded  results,  had  been 
little  better  than  sowing  on  the  waj'side,  or  the  stony  place,  or  among 
thistles  and  thorns.  He  had  made  so  few  disciples,  that  John  could  speak 
of  them  as  none.  The  fame  He  had  gained  might  serve  Him  elsewhere, 
but  He  measured  the  claims  of  a  locality  on  His  ministrations,  not  by 
the  numbers  who  came  to  Him,  but  by  the  proportion  won  to  God. 

The  direct  road  to  Galilee  ran  through  the  half-heathen  country  of 
Samaria,  and  this  Jesus  resolved  to  take,  though  men  of  His  nation  gener- 
ally preferred  the  circuitous  route  by  Perea,  rather  than  pass  through  the 
territory  of  a  race  they  hated.  It  ran  north  from  Jerusalem,  past  Bethel, 
between  the  height  of  Libona  on  the  left  hand,  and  of  Shiloh  on  the  right, 
entering  Samaria  at  the  south  end  of  the  beautiful  valley,  which,  further 
north,  stretches  past  the  foot  of  Mounts  Gerizim  and  Ebal.    He  must  have 


330  THE   LIFE   OP   CHBIST. 

started  in  the  early  morning,  to  reach  Sychar  by  noon,  and  must  have 
Ijeen  near  the  boundary  to  have  done  so  at  all,  in  the  short  morning  of  a 
winter's  day.  The  road  was  proverbially  unsafe  for  Jewish  passengers, 
either  returning  from  Jerusalem  or  going  to  it,  for  it  passed  through  the 
border  districts  where  the  fends  of  the  two  rival  peoples  raged  most 
fiercely.  The  paths  among  the  hills  of  Akrabbim,  leading  into  Samaria, 
had  often  been  wet  with  the  blood  of  Jew  or  Samaritan,  for  they  were  the 
scene  of  constant  raids  and  forays,  like  our  own  border  marches  between 
Wales  or  Scotland,  in  former  days.  It  had  been  dangerous  even  in  the 
time  of  Hosea,  eight  hundred  years  before,  but  it  was  worse  now.  The 
pilgrims  from  Galilee  to  the  feasts  were  often  molested,  and  sometimes 
even  attacked  and  scattered,  with  more  or  less  slaughter;  each  act  of 
violence  bringing  s^jeedy  reprisals  from  the  population  of  Jerusalem  and 
Judea,  on  the  one  side,  and  of  Galilee  on  the  other ;  the  villages  of  the 
border  districts,  as  most  easily  reached,  bearing  the  brunt  of  the  feud  iu 
smoking  cottages,  and  indiscriminate  massacre  of  young  and  old. 

The  country,  as  He  approached  Samaritan  territory,  was  gradually  more 
inviting  than  the  hills  of  southern  Judea.  "  Samaria,"  says  Josephus, 
"  lies  between  Judea  and  Galilee.  It  begins  at  a  village  in  the  great  plain 
(of  Esdraelon)  called  Ginea  (Engannim),  and  ends  at  the  district  or  'to- 
parch,'  of  Akrabbim,  and  is  of  the  same  character  as  Judea.  Both  coitu- 
trics  are  made  up  of  hills  and  valleys,  and  are  moist  for  agriculture, 
and  very  fruitful.  They  have  abundance  of  trees  (mostly  long  since  cut 
down),  and  are  full  of  autumnal  fruit,  both  wild  and  cultivated.  They 
are  not  naturally  watered  by  many  rivers,  but  dei'ive  their  chief  moisture 
from  the  rains,  of  which  they  have  no  want.  As  to  the  rivers  they  have, 
their  waters  are  exceedingly  sweet.  By  reason,  also,  of  the  excellent 
grass,  their  cattle  yield  more  milk  than  those  of  other  places,  and  both 
countries  show  that  greatest  proof  of  excellence  and  jilenty — they  are,  each, 
very  full  of  people."  In  our  da3's  Samaria  is  more  pleasant  than  Judea. 
The  limestone  hills  do  not  drink  in  the  waters  that  fall  on  them,  like  those 
of  the  south.  Rich  level  stretches  of  black  soil,  flooded  in  the  wet  season, 
form  splendid  pastures,  which  alternate,  in  the  valleys,  with  fertile  tracts 
of  corn-land,  gardens,  and  orchards.  Grape-vines,  and  many  kinds  of 
fruit-trees,  cover  the  warm  slopes  of  the  limestone  hills,  and  groves  of 
olives  and  walnut  crown  their  rounded  tops.  The  meadows  of  Samaria 
have  always  been  famous.  Even  the  prophets  speak  of  the  pastures  on  its 
downs,  and  of  the  thickets  of  its  hill-forests.  As  Josephus  tells  us,  the 
supply  of  rain  was  abundant  on  the  hills,  and  made  them  richly  wooded. 
The  climate  was  so  good  and  healthy,  that.the  Romans  greatly  preferred  the 
military  stations  in  Samaria  to  those  of  Judea.  Yet  the  landscape  is  tame 
and  monotonous  compared  to  that  of  Galilee.  Its  flat  valleys,  and  straight 
lines  of  hills,  all  rounded  atop,  and  nearly  of  a  height,  contrast  unfavour- 
aldy  with  the  bold  scenery  of  the  Galitean  highlands— the  home  of  Jesus. 

Having  reached  the  top  of  the  steep  hill  up  which  the  path  stretches, 
the  large  and  fertile  plain  of  Mukhna,  running  north  and  south,  lay  be- 
neath Mounts  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  the  giants  of  the  mountains  of  Ephraim, 
which  rose  midway  on  its  western  side,  while  lovr  chains  of  gently  sloping 


FROM   JERUSALEM   TO    SAMARIA.  331 

hills  enclosed  it,  as  a  whole.  The  path  descends  towards  the  hills  which 
skirt  the  ■western  side  of  the  plain,  and  runs  along  their  base,  rising  and 
falling  in  long  undulations.  Picturesque  clumps  of  trees  still  dot  the  hill- 
eides,  and  bare,  precipitous  faces  of  rock  rise  above  the  green  fields  and 
olive-yards,  which  more  or  less  cover  the  slopes,  mingling,  at  last,  with 
trees  above.  Half-way  up  tlie  plain,  a  small  valley  opens  to  the  west, 
between  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  which  rise,  steep  and  precipitous  on  the  side 
next  the  plain,  to  the  height,  respectively,  of  1,250  and  1,100  feet,  both,  as 
seen  from  below,  equally  sterile.  The  path  enters  the  valley  by  a  gentle 
ascent,  and  a  brook  of  fresh,  clear  water,  which  turns  a  mill  on  its  way, 
flows  out  with  a  pleasant  miirmur,  into  the  plain.  On  the  left,  Gerizim 
towers  in  rugged  and  bold  masses ;  on  the  right,  Ebal,  which,  though 
steep,  is  terraced  to  a  considerable  height,  with  gardens  fenced  by  the  fig 
cactus  ;  other  terraces,  planted  with  corn,  extending,  in  some  parts,  even 
to  the  summit. 

The  town  of  Nablus — the  ancient  Shechem — is  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  the  mouth  of  this  side  valley,  in  which  it  stands.  Luxuriant  gardens^ 
richly  watered,  girdle  it  round  outside  its  old  and  dilapidated  walls,  whose 
gates,  hanging  off  their  hinges,  are  an  emblem  of  all  things  else,  at  this 
day,  in  Palestine.  The  valley,  at  the  town,  is  so  narrow,  that  a  strong 
man  might  almost  shoot  an  arrow  from  the  one  hill  to  the  other.  The 
houses  of  Xablus  are  stone — a  number  of  them  of  several  stories — with 
small  windows  and  balconies,  and  low  doors,  over  which  texts  of  the  Koran 
are  often  painted,  as  a  sign  that  the  householder  has  made  the  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca.  It  is  a  very  small  place,  stretching  fi-om  east  to  west ;  with 
narrow  covered  streets,  running  north  and  south  from  the  two  principal 
ones.  Their  sides  are  raised,  so  as  to  leave  a  filthy,  sunken  path  in  the 
middle,  for  cattle ;  but,  as  a  set-off  to  this,  many  copious  fountains  and 
clear  rivulets,  flow  through  those  on  the  west  of  the  town. 

To  this  ancient  city,  then  in  its  glory,  and  very  different  from  its  pre- 
sent condition — along  this  path — Jesus  was  coming,  no  doubt  agreeably 
impressed  by  the  beauties  of  a  spot  unequalled  in  Palestine  for  its  land- 
scape. Clumps  of  lofty  walnut-trees,  thick  groves  of  almond,  pomegranate, 
olive,  pear,  and  plum-trees,  adorned  the  outskirts,  and  ran  towards  the 
opening  of  the  valley.  The  weather  was  bright  and  Avarm,  and  the 
brightness  would  fill  the  many-coloured  woods  and  verdure,  with  the 
melodious  songs  of  birds.  The  clear,  sweet  notes  of  our  own  blackbird; 
the  loud  thrill  of  the  lark,  high  overhead,  and  the  chirping  of  finches,  in 
each  copse,  rose  then,  as  now.  The  brooks  of  clear  mountain  water  then, 
as  to-day,  played,  and  splashed,  and  murmured  past.  Thousands  of 
flowers  enamelled  the  grass  on  the  slopes,  for  the  "blessings  of  Joseph" 
reached  their  highest  in  the  valley  of  Shechem.  "The  land  of  Syria," 
said  Mahomet,  "  is  beloved  by  Allah  beyond  all  lands,  and  the  part  of 
Syria  which  He  loveth  most  is  the  district  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  place 
which  He  loveth  most  in  the  district  of  Jerusalem  is  the  Mountain  of 
Kabliis."  The  contrast  with  nature  was  only  an  anticipation  of  the 
brighter  spiritual  prospect.  But  before  Jesus  came  to  the  town,  He 
halted  for  a  time  to  rest. 


332  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Close  under  the  eastern  foot  of  Grerizim,  at  the  opening  of  the  side  valley 
from  the  wide  plain,  on  a  slight  knoll,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  town, 
surrounded  now,  by  stones  and  broken  pillars,  is  Jacob's  well.  The  ruins 
are  those  of  an  old  church,  Avhich  stood  over  the  well  as  early  as  the  fifth 
century,  but  has  long  ago  perished  in  the  storms  of  past  ages.  Over  the 
well,  a  few  years  since,  were  still  to  be  seen  the  remains  of  an  alcove,  such 
as  is  built  beside  most  Eastern  wells,  to  give  a  seat  and  shelter  to  the 
tired  wayfarer.  There  is  no  question  that  the  name  of  the  ancient  patri- 
arch is  rightly  given.  Thirty  or  forty  springs  are  found  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, but  they  were,  doubtless,  already,  in  Jacob's  day,  private  property, 
so  that  he  had  no  alternative  but  to  sink  a  well  for  himself.  Nor  was  it 
a  slight  undertaking,  for  it  is  dug  through  the  alluvial  soil,  to  an  unknown 
depth,  and  lined  throughout  with  strong  rough  masonry.  It  is  still  about 
seventy-five  feet  deep,  but  so  recently  as  1838  it  was  thirty  feet  deeper, 
each  year  helping  to  fill  it  up,  from  the  practice  of  all  who  visit  it,  both 
natives  and  travellers,  of  throwing  in  stones,  to  hear  their  rebound.  This 
custom,  which  may  be  recent,  adding  to  the  accumulations  of  nearly  four 
thousand  years,  has  filled  it  up  perhaps  one-half.  The  shaft  is  seven  and 
a  half  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  whole  work  must  have  been  the  labour 
of  years.  It  is  exactly  on  the  watershed  of  the  district,  but  as  it  depends 
on  rainwater  only,  it  is,  now,  often  dry,  though,  perhaps,  when  of  a  greater 
depth,  always  more  or  less  full.  Lieut.  Anderson  descended  it  in  1866, 
and  found  it  quite  dry,  but  an  unbroken  pitcher  at  the  bottom  showed 
that  there  was  water  in  it  at  some  seasons.  Latterly,  it  has  been  buried 
under  a  great  heap  of  stones,  hiding  its  mouth,  which  Lieut.  Anderson 
found  in  a  sunken  chamber,  twenty  feet  deep,  the  opening  being  just  large 
enough  to  admit  a  man's  body. 

Tired  with  His  long  mountain  walk,  and  by  the  heat  of  noon — for  it  was 
midday,  and  noon  in  Palestine,  even  in  December,  is  often  warm — Jesus 
was  glad  to  turn  aside,  and  rest  by  Jacob's  well.  It  was,  moreover,  the 
hour  for  refreshment,  and  He  resolved  to  stay  in  the  grateful  shade  of  the 
trees  and  the  alcove,  while  His  disciples  went  up  to  the  little  valley  to  the 
town  to  buy  food.  The  funds  supplied  by  friends,  who  delighted  to 
minister  to  Him,  provided  the  ready  means. 

As  He  thus  rested,  a  Samaritan  woman,  from  Sychar,  which  may  have 
been  the  same  place  as  "Shechem,  or,  perhaps,  was  the  village  near  the 
well,  now  known  as  Askar,  approached,  with  a  water  jar  on  her  head,  as  is 
the  custom,  and  a  long  cord  in  her  hand,  with  which  to  let  the  jar  down 
the  Avoll.  Few  sought  the  place  at  that  hour,  for  evening  was  the  common 
time  for  drawing  water,  and  thus  Jesus  and  she  were  alone.  To  ask  a 
draught  of  water  is  a  request  no  one  in  the  East  thinks  of  refusing,  for 
the  hot  climate  makes  all  feel  its  value.  Hence,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, it  might  have  been  expected,  on  Jesus  craving  this  favour,  that 
it  would  be  granted  as  a  matter  of  course.  His  dress,  or  dialect,  however, 
had  shown  the  woman  that  He  was  a  Jew,  and  the  relations  between  Jews 
and  Samaritans  made  His  seeking  even  such  a  trifling  courtesy  from  her 
seem  strange,  for  the  two  nations  were  mortal  enemies.  After  the  depor- 
tation of  the  Ten   Tribes  to   Assyria,   Samaria   had   been  repeopled  by 


FROM   JERUSALEM    TO    S.IMARIA.  333 

heathen  colonists  from  various  pi'ovinces  of  the  Assyrian  empire,  by 
fugitives  from  the  antliorities  of  Judea,  and  by  stragglers  of  one  or  other 
of  the  Ten  Tribes,  who  found  their  way  home  again.  The  first  heathen 
settlers,  terrified  at  the  increase  of  wild  animals,  especially  lions,  and 
attributing  it  to  their  not  knowing  the  proper  worship  of  the  God  of  the 
country,  sent  for  one  of  the  exiled  priests,  and,  under  his  instructions, 
added  the  worship  of  Jehovah  to  that  of  their  idols — aii  incident  in  their 
history,  from  which  later  Jewish  hatred  and  derision  taunted  them  as 
"  proselytes  of  the  lions,"  as  it  branded  them,  from  their  Assyrian  origin, 
with  the  name  of  Cuthites.  Ultimately,  however,  they  became  more 
rigidly  attacked  to  the  Law  of  Moses  than  even  the  Jews  themselves. 
Anxious  to  be  recognised  as  Israelites,  they  set  their  hearts  on  joining  the 
Two  Tribes,  on  their  return  from  captivity,  but  the  stern  puritanism  of 
Ezra  and  Xehemiali  admitted  no  alliance  between  the  pure  blood  of  Jeru- 
salem and  the  tainted  race  of  the  north.  Resentment  at  this  affront  was 
natural,  and  excited  resentment  in  return,  till,  in  Christ's  day,  centuries 
of  strife  and  mutual  injury,  intensified  by  theological  hatred  on  both  sides, 
had  made  them  imjDlacable  enemies.  The  Samaritans  had  built  a  temple 
on  Mount  Gerizim,  to  rival  that  of  Jerusalem,  but  it  had  been  destroyed 
by  John  Hyrcanus,  who  had  also  levelled  Samaria  to  the  ground.  They 
claimed  for  their  mountain  a  greater  holiness  than  that  of  Moriah ;  accused 
the  Jews  of  adding  to  the  word  of  God,  by  receiving  the  Avritings  of  the 
prophets,  and  prided  themselves  on  owning  only  the  Pentateuch  as 
inspired ;  favoured  Herod  because  the  Jews  hated  him,  and  were  loyal  to 
him  and  the  equally  hated  Eoman ;  had  kindled  false  lights  on  the  hills, 
to  vitiate  the  Jewish  reckoning  by  the  new  moons,  and  thus  throw  their 
feasts  into  confusion,  and,  in  the  early  youth  of  Jesus,  had  even  defiled 
the  very  Temple  itself,  by  strewing  human  bones  in  it,  at  the  Passover. 

ISTor  had  hatred  slumbered  on  the  side  of  the  Jews.  They  knew  the 
Samaritans  only  as  Cuthites,  or  heathen  from  Gutli.  "  The  race  that  I 
hate  is  no  race,"  says  the  son  of  Sirach.  It  was  held  that  a  people  who 
once  had  worshipped  five  gods  could  have  no  part  in  Jehovah.  The  claim 
of  the  Samaritans,  that  Moses  had  buried  the  Tabernacle  and  its  vessels 
on  the  top  of  Gerizim,  was  laughed  to  scorn.  It  was  said  that  they  had 
dedicated  their  temple,  under  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  to  the  Greek  Jupiter. 
Their  keeping  the  commands  of  Moses  even  more  strictly  than  the  Jews, 
that  it  might  seem  they  were  really  of  Israel,  was  not  denied ;  but  their 
heathenism,  it  was  said,  had  been  joroved  by  the  discovery  of  a  brazen 
dove,  which  they  worshipjoed,  on  the  top  of  Gerizim.  It  would  have  been 
enough  that  they  boasted  of  Herod  as  their  good  king,  who  had  married  a 
daughter  of  their  people ;  that  he  had  been  free  to  follow,  in  their  country, 
his  Eoman  tastes,  so  hated  in  Judea ;  that  they  had  remained  quiet,  after 
his  death,  when  Judea  and  Galilee  were  in  uiiroar,  and  that,  for  their 
peacefiilness,  a  fourth  of  their  taxes  had  been  remitted  and  added  to  the 
burdens  of  Judea.  Their  friendliness  to  the  Romans  was  an  additional  pro- 
vocation. While  the  Jews  were  kept  cpiet  only  by  the  sternest  severity, 
and  strove  to  the  utmost  against  the  introduction  of  anything  foreign,  the 
Samaritans  rejoiced  in  the  new  importance  which   their  loyalty  to  the 


334  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

empire  had  given  them.  Shechcm  flourislied;  cloiic  by,  in  Ca3saroa,  the 
procurator  held  his  court ;  a  division  of  cavahy,  in  barracks  at  Sebaste — 
the  old  Samaria— had  been  raised  in  the  territory.  Tlie  Eoman  strangers 
were  more  than  welcome  to  while  away  the  summer  in  their  umbragcouai 
valleys. 

The  illimitable  hatred  rising  from  so  many  sources,  found  vent  in  tho 
tradition  that  a  special  curse  had  been  uttered  against  the  Samaritans,  by 
Ezra,  Zerubbabel,  and  Joshua.  It  was  said  that  these  great  ones  assemljlcd 
the  whole  congregation  of  Israel  in  the  Temple,  and  that  three  hundred 
priests,  with  three  hundred  trumpets,  and  three  hundred  books  of  the 
Law,  and  three  hundred  scholars  of  the  Law,  had  been  employed  to  repeat, 
amidst  the  most  solemn  ceremonial,  all  the  curses  of  the  Law  against 
the  Samaritans.  They  had  been  subjected  to  every  form  of  excommunica- 
tion ;  by  the  incommunicable  name  of  Jehovah  ;  by  the  Tables  of  tlie  Law 
and  by  the  heavenly  and  earthly  synagogues.  The  very  name  became  a 
reproach.  "We  know  that  Thou  art  a  Samaritan,  and  hast  a  devil,"  said 
the  Jews,  to  Jesus,  in  Jerusalem.  "  There  may  be  friendliness  between 
Samaria  and  Jerusalem,"  said  a  young  Habbi,  summing  up  the  points  in 
dispute  between  his  nation  and  the  Samaritans,  "  when  the  Cuthites  have 
no  more  to  do  with  Mount  Gerizim ;  when  they  praise  Israel,  and  believe 
in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead — but  not  till  then."  No  Israelite  could 
lawfully  eat  even  a  mouthful  of  food  that  had  been  touched  by  a  Samaritan, 
for  "  to  do  so  was  as  if  he  ate  the  flesh  of  swine."  No  Samaritan  was 
allowed  to  become  a  proselyte,  nor  could  he  have  any  part  in  the  resuiTCC- 
tion  of  the  dead.  A  Jew  might  be  friendly  with  a  heathen,  bvit  never  with 
a  Samaritan,  and  all  bargains  made  with  one  were  invalid.  The  testimony 
of  a  Samaritan  could  not  be  taken  in  a  Jewish  court,  and  to  receive  one 
into  one's  house  would  bring  down  the  curse  of  God.  It  had  even  becomo 
a  subject  of  warm  controversy  how  far  a  Jew  might  use  food  or  fruit  grown 
on  Samaritan  soil.  What  grows  on  trees  or  in  fields  was  reckoned  clean 
but  it  was  doubtful  respecting  flour  or  wine.  A  Samaritan  egg,  as  the 
hen  laid  it,  could  not  be  unclean,  but  what  of  a  boiled  egg  ?  Yet  interest 
and  convenience  strove,  by  suljtle  casuistry,  to  invent  excuses  for  what 
intercourse  was  unavoidable.  The  country  of  the  Cuthites  was  clean,  so 
that  a  Jew  might,  without  scruple,  gather  and  eat  its  produce.  The 
waters  of  Samaria  were  clean,  so  that  a  Jew  might  drink  them  or  wash  in 
them.  Their  dwellings  were  clean,  so  that  he  might  enter  them,  and  eat 
or  lodge  in  them.  Their  roads  were  clean,  so  that  the  dust  of  them  did  not 
defile  a  Jew's  feet.  The  Eabbis  even  went  so  far  in  their  contradictory 
utterances,  as  to  say  that  the  victuals  of  the  Cuthites  were  allowed,  if  none 
of  their  wine  or  vinegar  were  mixed  with  them,  and  even  their  unleavened 
bread  was  to  be  reckoned  fit  for  use  at  the  Passover.  Opinions  thus 
wavered,  but,  as  a  rule,  harsher  feeling  prevailed. 

Jesus  was  infinitely  above  such  unworthy  strifes  and  prejudices,  and 
His  disciples  had  caught  something  of  His  calm  elevation,  for  they  had 
already  set  off  to  the  city  for  food,  when  He  spoke  to  the  woman.  She 
coiild  only,  in  her  wonder,  ask,  in  reply,  "How  is  it  that  Thou,  being  a  Jew, 
askest  drink  of  me,  who  am  a  Samaritan  woman  ?  "     Her  frankness  and 


FEOM  JERUSALEM   TO   SAMARIA.  335 

kindly  bearing  had  its  reward.  With  His  wondrous  skill  in  using  even 
the  smallest  and  commonest  trifles  to  lead  to  the  highest  and  worthiest 
truths,  He  lifts  her  thoughts  to  matters  infinitely  above  the  mere  wants 
of  the  body.  By  an  easy  transition,  He  tells  her  of  living  water,  the  gift 
of  God,  which  He  has  to  give — so  precious,  that,  if  she  knew  what  it  was, 
and  who  He  was  who  spoke  with  her,  she,  in  her  turn,  would  ask  Him  to 
allow  her  to  drink.  He  meant,  of  course,  the  Divine  grace  and  truth 
given  by  Him  to  those  who  sought  it,  the  true  living  water,  ever 
fresh  in  its  quickening  power  and  efficacy  to  satisfy  the  thirst  of  the  soul. 
Such  a  metaphor  was  exactly  fitted  to  arrest  her  attention,  but,  like 
Nicodemus,  she  rises  no  higher  than  the  literal  sense.  "You  cannot 
mean  the  Avater  in  the  well  here,"  says  she  :  "  You  cannot  give  me  that, 
for  you  have  nothing  to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is  deep.  Whence,  then, 
can  you  get  this  living  water  of  which  you  speak.?  Are  you  greater  than 
our  father  Jacob,  who  gave  us  the  well  ?  It  was  good  enough  for  him  and 
his  to  drink  from,  and  you  speak  as  if  you  had  other  and  better  !  "  Sam- 
aritan tradition  had  traced  the  well  to  the  gift  of  Jacob,  though  it  is  not 
mentioned  in  Genesis  ;  and  Jacob— to  a  Samaritan,  as  to  a  Jew — was 
almost  more  than  a  man.  Her  curiosity  was  now  fairly  roused,  and  her 
willingness  to  hear  was  evident.  "  This  water  is,  no  doubt,  good,"  replied 
Jesus,  "  but  any  one  who  drinks  it  will  thirst  again ;  whereas  he  who  drinks 
the  water  that  I  give  will  never  thirst,  but  will  find  it  like  a  well  of  water 
in  his  soul,  springing  up  into  everlasting  life."  More  and  more  interested, 
the  woman  ci'aves  some  of  this  miracnloias  water,  that  she  may  not  thirst, 
nor  need  to  come  all  the  way  thither  to  draw.  She  still  thinks  only  of 
common  water. 

But  now  followed  a  question  which,  while  apparently  of  no  moment, 
showed  her  that  she  was  before  One  who  knew  the  secrets  of  her  life,  and, 
while  it  woke  a  sense  of  guilt,  opened  the  way  for  penitence.  "  Go,  call 
thy  husband."  She  answered  that  she  had  none.  "  You  are  right,"  replied 
Jesus,  "  for  you  have  had  five  husbands,  and  he  whom  you  now  have  is  nob 
your  husband."  The  five  had  either  divorced  her  for  immorality,  or  were 
dead :  to  the  sixth  she  was  not  married. 

The  light,  half -bold  mood  of  the  woman  was  now  entirely  past.  "  My 
lord,"  said  she,  "  I  perceive  that  Thou  art  a  prophet,"  and,  doubtless,  with 
the  conviction,  there  flashed  through  her  breast  the  kindred  thought,  that 
the  Jewish  religion,  which  He  seemed  to  represent,  must  be  the  true  one. 
Then,  perhaps  half  wishing  to  turn  the  conversation — with  a  glance  at  the 
holy  hill,  towering  eight  hundred  feet  above  them — she  added,  "  Our 
fathers  worshipped  in  this  mountain,  and  ye  say,  that  in  Jerusalem  is  the 
place  where  men  ought  to  worship." 

To  the  Samaritans,  Gerizim  was  the  most  holy  spot  on  earth.  It  was 
Ihcir  sacred  mountain,  and  had  been,  as  they  believed,  the  seat  of  Paradise, 
while  all  the  streams  that  water  the  earth  were  supposed  to  flow  from  it. 
Adam  had  been  formed  of  its  dust,  and  had  lived  on  it.  The  few 
Samaritans  still  surviving,  show,  even  at  this  day,  the  spot  on  which 
he  built  his  first  altar,  and  that  on  which,  afterwards,  the  altar  of 
Seth,  also,  was  raised.     They  fancied  that   Gerizim  was  Ararat,  fifteen 


336  THE   LIFE    OF   CHFaST. 

cubits  liiglior  than  tlie  next  highest  and  next  holiest  mountain  on  earth- 
Mount  Ebal,  and  that  it  was  the  one  pure  and  hallowed  spot  in  the  world, 
which,  having  risen  above  the  waters  of  the  flood,  no  corpse  had  defiled. 
Every  Samaritan  child  of  the  neighbourhood  could  point  out  the  places  on 
it  where  Noah  came  out  from  the  ark,  and  where  he  raised  his  altar,  and 
show  its  seven  steps,  on  each  of  which  JSToah  offered  a  sacrifice.  The  altar 
on  which  Abraham  bound  Isaac,  and  the  spot  where  the  ram  was 
caught  in  tlie  thicket,  were  amongst  its  wonders.  In  the  centre  of  the 
summit  was  the  broad  stone  on  which  Jacob  rested  his  head  wlien  he 
saw  the  mystic  ladder,  and,  near  it,  the  spot  where  Joshua  built  the  first 
altar  in  the  land,  after  its  conquest,  and  the  twelve  stones  he  set  up,  on 
the  under  side  of  which,  they  believed,  the  Law  of  Moses  had  been  writ- 
ten. On  this  holy  ground  their  Temple  had  stood  for  two  hundred  years, 
till  destroyed  by  the  Jews  a  hundred  and  twenty-nine  j'cars  before  Christ. 
Towards  Gerizim  every  Samaritan  turned  his  face  when  he  prayed,  and 
it  was  believed  the  Messiah  would  first  appear  on  its  top,  to  bring  from 
their  hiding-solace  in  it  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  Tabernacle  of  Moses. 
It  was  unsjjeakably  dear  to  the  nation,  as  the  one  spot  on  earth  wliere 
man  was  nearest  his  Maker.  The  simple  Samaritan  woman  with  whom 
Jesus  talked,  had  been  trained  up  in  the  vmdoubting  belief  of  all  these 
legends,  and  her  respectful  mention  of  Jerusalem,  a  jDlace  sacred  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Jew,  showed  a  spirit  ready  to  be  taught. 

She  was  only  a  humble  woman,  and  withal,  of  poor  antecedents,  but  it 
was  the  characteristic  of  Jesus  to  recognise  the  better  self,  even  in  the 
outcast  and  lost.  The  hope  and  joy  of  the  triumphant  future  of  His  king- 
dom rose  in  His  soul  as  He  discoursed  with  her.  No  narrow  intolerance 
had  place  in  His  breast ;  no  haughty  Jewish  nationality  prejudiced  Him 
against  man  as  man.  Away  from  the  close  stifling  bigotry  and  fierce  self- 
righteousness  of  Judea,  He  breathed  more  freely.  To  the  Samaritans  He 
always  seems  to  have  felt  kindly ;  for  in  His  immortal  parable,  it  was  a 
Samaritan  whom  He  chose  to  illustrate  the  law  of  neighbourly  love ;  it 
was  a  Samaritan  who,  alone,  of  the  ten  lepers  He  healed,  returned  to  give 
glory  to  God;  and,  now,  it  was  a  Samaritan  woman  who,  lay  opening  her 
heart  to  His  words,  first  cheered  His  spirit,  after  the  cold  unbelief  of 
Judea.  The  influences  of  the  spot,  moreover,  had,  doubtless,  their  effect 
on  one  so  much  in  communion  with  nature.  The  towering  hills  on  each 
side— steep— well-nigh  precipitous,  and,  as  seen  from  the  well  where  He 
sat,  naked  and  sterile;  the  undulating  valley  between  them,  with  its 
babbling  brook;  the  busy  and  prosperous  Shechem,  embowered  in  gardens 
and  orchards ;  the  great  plain  at  hand,  ten  miles  in  length  and  half  as 
broad,  v.'ith  its  cornfields,  vineyards,  and  olive  groves,  spread  far  and 
near;  the  framework  of  hills  enclosing  it  round;  the  whole  flooded  by 
the  bright  Eastern  noon,  must  have  touched  His  delicate  sensibility,  as 
they  could  not  have  affected  duller  natures.  The  very  associations  of  the 
scene  must  have  breathed  a  sacred  inspiration;  for  here  Jacob  had  wan- 
dered ;  he  had  paid  a  hundred  pieces  of  money  for  the  very  ground  on 
which  this  well  had  been  dug;  and  here,  Joseph,  his  famous  son,  lay 
buried,  within  the  bounds  of   his  father's  purchase.      Here  Joshua  had 


FEOM   JEEUSALEM   TO    SAMARIA.  337 

gathered  the  ti-ibes  to  hear  the  Law  from  the  rounded  hill-tops  above,  and 
Gideon,  and  a  long  roll  of  judges  and  kings,  liad  made  it  the  centre  oi 
their  rule.  The  j^lain  before  Him  had  been  the  gathering  place  of  the 
hosts  of  Israel,  and  now  He,  the  greater  Joshua,  a  mightier  judge  than 
Gideon,  and  the  true  "Prince  of  God,"  was  about  to  summon  the  peace- 
ful soldiers  of  the  spiritual  Israel  to  a  loftier  struggle  than  ever  ea.rth  had 
seen— for  Trutli  and  God.  A  Divine  enthusiasm  filled  His  soul,  and  the 
vision  of  the  sacred  future  He  came  to  inaugm'ate  for  man  rose  within 
Him,  when  the  local,  national,  and  transitory  in  religion  should  have 
passed  away  before  the  universal,  spiritual,  and  eternal.  "  Believe  me," 
said  He,  "  an  hour  comes,  when  ye  shall  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  in 
Jerusalem,  worship  the  Father.  Ye  worship  God  without  knowing  Him — 
ignorantly.  Your  Temple,  when  it  stood,  was  without  a  name ;  still  worse, 
your  forefathers,  after  a  time,  dedicated  it  to  idols.  You  have  rejected 
the  prophets  and  all  the  Scriptures  after  Moses,  and,  thus,  are  not  in 
living  connection  with  the  earlier  history  of  the  kingdom  of  God;  have  no 
intelligent  knowledge  of  the  advancing  steps  by  which  God  has  revealed 
Himself,  but  rest  on  dark  traditions  and  fancies,  natural  in  a  people  whose 
religion  began  with  the  worship  of  strange  gods  along  with  Jehovah. 
We,  Jews,  worship  that  which  our  having  received  the  Scriptures,  has 
taught  us  to  know.  The  Messiah  and  His  salvation  must  come  from 
among  the  Jews.  They  have  cherished  the  firm,  pure,  and  living  hope  of 
Him,  revealed  more  and  more  fully  in  the  prophets,  and  their  Temple, 
which  has  always  been  sacred  to  Jehovah  alone,  has  kept  this  hope  ever 
before  them.  But,  though  the  Jews  be  right,  as  against  the  Samaritans, 
in  so  far  as  relates  to  the  past,  both  are  on  equal  footing  as  to  the  far 
more  glorious  future.  An  hour  comes,  and  now  is,  when  the  true  wor- 
shippers will  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  truth,  for  the  Father  seeketh 
such  as  worship  Him  thus.  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  Him 
must  worship  in  spirit  and  truth." 

Words  like  these  marked  an  epoch  in  the  spiritual  history  of  the  world ; 
a  revolution  in  all  previous  ideas  of  the  relation  of  man  to  his  Maker. 
They  are  the  proclamation  of  the  essential  equality  of  man  before  God, 
and  show  the  loftiest  superiority  to  innate  human  prejudice  or  narrowness. 
Christ  speaks,  not  as  a  Je-w,  but  as  the  Son  of  Man ;  the  representative  of 
the  whole  race.  The  bitter  controversy  between  race  and  race  is  only 
touched,  in  passing,  with  a  Divine  mildness.  Eising  high,  not  merely 
above  his  own  age,  but  even  above  the  prejudices  of  all  ages  since.  He 
gives  mankind  their  cliarter  of  spiritual  liberty  for  evermore.  Jeru- 
salem and  Gerizim  are  only  local  and  subordinate  considerations.  The 
worth  of  man's  homage  to  God  does  not  de^jend  on  the  place  where  it  is 
paid.  The  true  worship  has  its  temple  in  the  inmost  soul ;  in  the  sjiirit 
and  heart.  It  is  the  life  of  the  soul ;  it  is  communion  with  God ;  the 
reverent  espousal  of  our  nature  to  truth.  It  is  spiritual  and  moral,  not 
outward  and  ritual ;  springing  from  the  great  truth,  rightly  apprehended, 
which  Jesus  had  first  uttered,  that  God  is  a  Spirit.  The  revelation  of  this, 
in  the  wide  application  now  given  it,  was  the  foundation  of  the  New 
Religion  of   all   Humanity.      The  isolation  and   exclusiveness  of  foi*mer 

z 


338  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

creeds  were  swept  away  by  it  for  ever.  Eeligion  was  henceforth  no  tribal 
privilege  jealously  kept  within  the  narrow  bounds  of  mere  nationality. 
The  universal  presence  of  a  spiritual  God  made  the  whole  world  alike  His 
slAriue.  The  veil  of  the  Temple  was  first  rent  at  Jacob's  Yfell,  and  He 
Who,  till  then,  had,  as  men  thought,  dwelt  only  in  the  narrow  limits  of 
tlie  chamber  it  shrouded,  went  forth  thence,  from  that  hour,  to  consecrate 
all  the  earth  as  one  great  Holy  of  Holies.  Samaritans,  Heathen,  Jews, 
were,  henceforth,  proclaimed  children  of  a  common  heavenly  Father,  and 
Jesus,  when  He  claimed,  the  nest  moment,  to  be  the  Messiah,  announced 
Himself  as  the  Saviouu  of  the  Would. 

Perplexed  to  understand  words  so  lofty,  the  simple-minded  woman  was 
fain  to  put  off  any  attempt  to  solve  them,  till  He  came,  for  whom,  in  com- 
mon with  the  Jews,  she  waited.  She  felt  hardly  convinced,  and  wished 
to  leave  the  question  about  Gerizim  and  Jerusalem  till  the  Great  Prophet 
appeared.  '■  I  know  that  Messiah  comes,  who  is  called  Christ ;  when  He 
shall  come,  He  will  tell  us  all  things."  Even  the  Samaritans  had  their 
hopes  of  a  great  Deliverer,  expecting  Hina  to  restore  the  kingdom  of 
Israel,  and  renew  the  worship  at  Mount  Gerizim,  but  they  thought  of  him 
only  as  acting  by  human  agencies  for  inferior  ends. 

Jesus  was  far  from  recognising  her  as  right  in  all  she  meant  by  such  an 
answer,  but  she  had  displayed  a  modest  and  docile  spirit,  such  as  He 
always  loved.  She  had  acknowledged  Him  as  a  prophet,  had  listened 
eagerly  to  His  words,  and  shown  how  she  hoped  that  the  Messiah,  when 
He  came,  would  set  the  long  controversy  to  rest.  Her  honest  wish  to 
know  the  truth;  her  interest  in  the  standing  of  her  people  to  God  and  the 
Law,  and  her  anxious  yearning  for  the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  revealed  a 
frame  of  mind  fitted  to  receive  further  light.  "  You  need  not  wait,"  said 
He,  "I  that  speak  unto  thee  am  He."  "The  first  great  revelation  of  the 
Saviour  was  to  humble  shepherds.  The  first  direct  disclosure  of  Himself 
as  the  Messiah  was  to  an  humble  Samaritan  woman !  " 

Meanwhile,  the  disciples  had  returned  from  the  city,  and  wondered  to 
find  him  talking  with  a  woman.  The  relations  of  the  sexes,  even  in  com- 
mon life,  wore  very  narrow  and  suspicious  among  the  Jews.  That  a 
woman  should  allow  herself  to  be  seen  unveiled  was  held  immodest,  and 
she  was  reckoned  almost  unchaste  if  heard  singing  a  song  even  in  private. 
In  Judea  a  biidegroom  might  be  alone  with  his  bride,  for  the  first  time, 
an  hour  befoi'e  marriage,  1:)ut  in  Galilee  even  this  Avas  thought  unbecom- 
ing. Trades  which  brought  the  tw^o  sexes  in  any  measure  into  contact 
were  regarded  with  suspicion,  and  no  unmarried  person  of  either  sex 
could  be  a  teacher,  lest  the  2iarents  of  the  children  might  visit  the  school. 
In  Rabbis  especially,  even  to  speak  with  a  Avoman  in  public  Avas  held  in- 
decorous in  the  highest  degree.  "  No  one  "  (that  is,  no  Eabbi),  says  the 
Talmud,  "  is  to  speak  with  a  woman,  even  if  she  be  his  wife,  in  the  public 
street."  It  was  forbidden  to  greet  a  Avoman,  or  take  any  notice  of  her. 
"  Six  things,"  Ave  are  told,  "  are  to  be  shunned  by  a  Ptabbi.  He  must  not 
be  seen  in  the  street,  dripping  with  oil,  Avhicli  woukl  imply  vanity :  he 
must  not  go  out  at  night  alone :  he  is  not  to  wear  patched  shoes  (Avhich  in 
certain  cases  Avovdd  be  carrying  a  burden,  when  it  was  unlawful  to  do  so) : 


FEOM   JERUSALEM    TO    SAMAEIA.  339 

lie  must  not  speak  witli  a  -noinaii  in  a  public  place  :  he  must  stuu  all 
intercourse  -with  common  people  (for,  not  knowing  the  Law,  they  might  be 
'unclean')  :  he  must  not  take  long  steps  (for  that  would  show  that  he 
Avas  not  sunk  in  the  study  of  the  Law) :  and  he  must  not  walk  erect  (for 
that  would  betray  pride)."     Though  higher  in  position  and  respect  among 
the  Jews  tlian  in  other  Eastern  nations,  woman,  at  the  time  of  Christ,  was 
treated  as  wholly  inferior  to  man.    "  Let  the  words  of  the  Law  be  burned," 
says  Eabbi  Eleazer,  "rather  than  committed  to  women."     "He  who  in- 
structs his  daughter  in  the  Law,"  says  the  Talmud,  "instructs  her  in 
folly."     But   He    who   came  to  raise   mankind  to  spiritual  freedom  and 
moral  purity,  included  woman,  as  well  as  man,  in  His  grand  philanthropy, 
and  treated  with  silent  contemiot  the  prudery  by  -which  it  was  sought  to 
humble  the  one  sex  and  exalt  the  other.     He  was  a  teacher  not  for  an  age, 
but  for  all  time,  and  woman  owes  her  elevation  to  social  equality  with 
man  to  the  lofty  respect  shown  her  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth.     To  have  the 
courage  of  one's  opinions  is  rare,  and  it  is   rarer  still  to  retain,  with  it,  a 
modest  humility  and  simple  worship  of  truth.     With   most  of  us,  it  is 
rather  supercilious  contempt  of  inferior  judgments  than  lowly  homage  to 
conviction.     Li  Jesus  alone  is  it  found  as  an  instinctive  and  never-failing 
characteristic,   with  no  blemish  or  qualification  of  attendant  weakness. 
He  acts,   at  all   times,    as   before  God   alone,    and  as   if  unconscious  of 
the  presence  or  opinions  of  man, 

Strange  as  the  incident  must  have  seemed  to  the  disciples,  the  awe  and 
reverence  which  Jesus  had  already  excited  in  their  minds  checked  any 
expression   of   surprise.      Meanw^hile   the  woman,   leaving    her  pitcher, 
hurried  off   to   the  city,  to  make  known  the  presence  of  the  wonderful 
stranger,  and  urge  as  many  as  she  could,  to  go  to  Him,  and  see  if  He  were 
not  the  expected  Messiah.     In  her  absence,  the  disciples  once  and  again 
invited   Jesus  to  take  some  refreshment.     But  His  soul  was  too  full  of 
other  thoughts,  which  drove  away  all  sense  of  hunger.     "  I  have  meat  to 
eat,"  said  He,  "  that  ye  know  not  of," — words,  which  to  their  dull  material 
range  of  mind,  seemed  only  to  refer  to  food  brought  in  their  absence. 
"  My  meat,"  said  He,  seeing  their  misconception,  "is  to  do  the  will  of 
Him  that  sent  Me,  and  to  finish  His  work."     Then,  lifting  His  eyes,  and 
lookhig  up  the  stretching  valley,  or  round  the  wide  sweep  of  the  plain,  in 
both  of  which,  doubtless,  the  busy  peasants  were  scattering  the  seed  for 
the  harvest,  then  four  months  distant.  He  caught  sight  of  a  miiltitude 
coming,  under  the  guidance  of  the  woman,  to  hear  His  words.     Fired  at 
the  sight.  He  went  on, — "You   say,  'After  four   months   will   come  the 
harvest.'     But  I  say,  look  yonder  at  the  thi-ong  approaching  us.     The]} 
are  the  noblest  harvest,  and  their  coming  shows  that  you  have  not  to  wait 
to  reap  it,  as  they  have  to  reap  the  seed  now  sowing  ;  for  their  souls,  like 
autumn  fields,  are  already  white  for  the  sickle.     And  how  rich  the  reward 
for  you.  My  disciples,  wdio  will  be  the  reapers  !     You  will  gather  fruit,  not 
like  the  harvest  of  earth,  but  fruit  unto  life  eteimal.     You  and  I,   the 
Sower  and  the  reapei's,  may  well  rejoice  together  in  the  parts  assigned  us 
by  God.     Thiidc  of  the  final  harvest-home,  when  Heaven,  the  great  garner, 
shall  have  the  last  sheaf  carried  thither !     The  sower  and  the  reaper  are 


340  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

indeed  distinct,  as  the  proverb  has  it,  speaking  of  common  life.  I  have 
prepared  and  sown  the  field ;  you  shall,  hereafter,  do  the  labour  that  is 
needed  as  it  grows,  and  reap  the  sheaves  as  they  ripen.  Your  work  will 
be  real  of  its  kind,  but  to  break  up  the  soil,  and  cast  in  the  seed,  is  harder 
than  to  watch  the  rising  green.  I  send  you  to  enter  on  the  fruit  of  My 
toil." 

Judea  had  yielded  no  harvest,  but  the  despised  people  of  Shechem  were 
better  spiritual  soil.  There  was  no  idle  thronging  around,  as  in  Judea,  in 
hopes  of  seeing  miracles  :  none  were  asked,  and  none  were  wrought.  The 
simpler  and  healthier  natures  with  which  Ho  here  came  in  contact,  were 
satisfied,  in  many  cases,  by  the  words  of  the  woman  alone.  Gathering  to 
hear,  His  words  deepened  the  convictions  of  those  impressed  already,  and 
roused  the  hearts  of  others.  At  their  request,  two  days  were  spent  in 
teaching.  To  have  stayed  longer  might,  perhaps,  have  compromised  the 
future,  by  raising  Jewish  prejudice.  Meanwhile,  the  work,  thus  aus- 
piciously begun,  could  not  fail  to  spread.  "  We  believe,"  said  the  new 
converts,  after  the  two  days'  intercourse  with  Jesus,  "  not  because  of  the 
woman's  sajdng,  for  we  have  heard  Him  ourselves,  and  know  that  this  is, 
indeed,  the  Saviour  of  the  world."  Jews  might  have  acknowledged  Him 
as  the  Messiah,  but  only  Samaritans,  with  their  far  more  generous  con- 
ceptions of  the  Messianic  Kingdom,  could  have  thought  of  Him  as  the 
Saviour  of  mankind. 

Thus,  naturally,  from  the  most  indifferent  trifle  of  daily  life,  had  come 
the  disclosure  of  the  highest  truths,  as  a  legacy  to  all  ages.  The  well  of 
Jacob  had  become  the  seat  of  the  Great  Teacher,  before  whoso  words,  then 
sjooken  to  a  humble  woman  of  Samaria,  the  most  embittered  enmities  of 
nations  and  religions  will,  one  day,  pass  away. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

OPENING    OF   THE    MINISTRY   IN    GALILEE. 

A  NATURE  like  that  of  Jesus,  as  sensitive  as  strong,  must  have  felt 
-^-^  the  pleasure  which  only  first  successes  can  give,  at  His  hearty 
recei)tion  by  the  Samaritans.  Rejected  in  Judea,  He  had  found  willing 
hearers  in  the  despised  people  of  Shechem.  A  nucleus  of  His  kingdom 
had  been  formed,  and  it  must,  by  its  nature,  spread  from  heart  to  heart. 
Intensely  human  in  His  sensibility,  He  now  enjoyed  the  happiness  He  had 
called  forth  in  others,  as,  before,  He  had  been  depressed  by  its  g,bsence. 
He  neither  expected  nor  desired  noisy  popularity,  for  He  knew  that  His 
Kingdom  could  grow  only  by  the  secret  conviction  of  soul  after  soul. 

Yet,  in  one  sense,  it  was  abeady  complete  in  every  new  disciple,  for  each 
heart  that  received  Him  was  a  spot  in  which  it  was  fully  set  up — its  laws 
accepted,  and  the  will  and  affections  entirely  His.  To  every  new  adherent 
He  was  more  than  king,  for  He  reigned  over  their  whole  nature,  with  a 
majesty  such  as  no  other  king  could  command.  The  highest  bliss  of  each 
was  to  have  no  thought  or  wish  apart  from  His,  for  in  the  measure  of  like- 


OPENING   OF   THE    MINISTRY   IN    GALILEE.  341 

ncss  to  Him,  lay  their  sinritual  purity,  peace,  and  juy.  They  felt  that  to 
become  His  disciples,  was  to  anticipate  the  brightest  hopes  of  the  eternal 
world,  for  it  was  to  have  their  bosoms  filled  with  the  light  and  love  of  God. 
Earth  never  saw  such  a  king,  or  such  a  kingdom. 

But  He  could  not  stay  in  Samaria.  His  work  lay  in  Israel.  Its  people 
had  been  prepared  for  it  by  the  training  of  two  thousand  years,  by  cher- 
ished hopes,  and  by  the  possession  of  the  oracles  of  God ;  the  one  grand 
treasure  of  eterjial  truth  in  the  hands  of  man.  They,  alone,  of  all  man- 
kind realized  the  idea  of  a  true  kingdom  of  God  ;  thcj-,  alone,  were  aglow 
for  its  advent.  Misconceptions  removed,  they  were  fitted  above  all  other 
races,  to  be  theajjostles  of  the  new  religion,  which,  in  reality,  was  only  the 
completing  and  perfecting  of  the  old. 

After  a  stay  of  two  days,  therefore,  at  Shechem,  or  near  it,  Jesus  went 
on  northwards,  towards  Galilee.  The  road  passes  through  Shechem,  to 
Samaria,  which  lies  on  its  hill,  at  three  hours'  distance,  on  the  north-west. 
It  was  then  in  its  glory,  as  Herod  had  left  it ;  no  longer  the  old  Samaria, 
but  the  splendid  Sebaste,  named  thus  in  compliment  to  Augustus.  Its 
grand  public  buildings,  its  magnificent  temple,  dedicated,  in  blasphemous 
flattery,  to  Augustus,  its  colonnades,  triumphal  arches,  baths,  and  theatres, 
and  its  famous  wall,  twenty  stadia  in  circuit,  with  elaborate  gates  enclos- 
ing the  whole — were  before  Him  as  He  passed  on.  At  Engannim,  "  the 
Fountain  of  Gardens,"  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon, 
He  crossed  the  Samaritan  border,  and  was  once  more  in  Galilee. 

Avoiding  ISTazareth,  with  a  wise  instinct  that  a  ^jrophet  had  no  honour 
in  His  own  country,  He  continued  His  journey  to  Cana,  across  the  green 
pastures  and  corn-fields  of  the  plain  of  Battauf.  He  had,  indeed,  felt, 
before  leaving  Samaria,  that  a  district  where  He  had  been  familiarly 
known  in  His  earlier  life  would  be  less  disposed  to  receive  Him  than 
others  in  which  He  was  a  stranger,  but  this  could  only  apply  to  the  imme- 
diate bounds  of  Nazareth  or  Capernaum.  On  the  other  hand,  the  news 
of  His  popularity  in  Judca,  and  of  His  miracles  and  discourses  in  Jeru- 
salem, had  been  carried  back  to  Galilee,  by  pilgrims  who  had  returned 
from  the  feast,  and  had,  doubtless,  secured  Him  a  much  better  reception 
in  the  province  at  large  than,  as  Himself  a  Galila3an,  He  would  otherwise 
have  found.  But  even  had  He  felt  that  He  would  bo  rejected  in  Galilee 
as  He  had  been  in  Judea,  His  homage  to  duty,  and  grand  self-sacrifice  to 
its  demands,  would  have  so  much  the  more  impelled  Him  to  carry  His 
great  message  thither.  Personal  feelings  had  no  place  in  His  soul.  It 
would  have  been  only  one  nrore,  added  to  His  life-long  conflicts  with 
human  perversity  and  evil,  to  brave  foreboded  indifference  and  neglect, 
and  offer  even  to  those  who  slighted  Him  the  proofs  of  His  Divine  dignity 
and  worth.  The  prophet  had  foretold  that  the  Great  Light  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God  would  shine  in  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles,  and  amidst  whatever 
humiliation  and  pain  of  heart  in  anticipated  rejection.  He,  its  King,  would 
have  gone  thither  to  proclaim  it,  and  honour  the  Divine  prediction. 

The  first  return  of  Jesus  to  Galilee,  from  the  Jordan,  had  been  marked 
by  the  miracle  at  the  wedding  feast  of  Cana,  as  if  to  rouse  the  general 
mind,  and  now,  His  second  return  was  proclaimed  in  the  same  way.     He, 


342  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

perhaps,  had  gone  to  live  for  a  time  with  the  friends  for  whom  He  had 
turned  the  water  into  wine,  or,  it  may  be, 'He  was  a  guest  of  Nathanael, 
as,  in  Capernaum,  of  Peter.  His  reception,  as  He  passed  on  His  way  to 
Cana,  had  been  cheering  in  the  extreme,  for  the  reports  from  the  south 
had  raised  Him  to  an  undefined  greatness  in  tiie  popular  eyes.  They  had 
learned  to  be  proud  of  Him  as  their  countryman,  when  they  found  Him  so 
famous  elsewhere.  That  croAvds  had  followed  Him  in  Judea,  secured  Him 
favour,  so  far,  among  the  multitude  in  the  north.  His  return  had  risen 
to  the  dignity  of  a  public  event,  and  passed  from  lip  to  lip  through  the 
Avhole  district. 

It  had  thus  speedily  become  known  in  Capernaum  that  He  was  once 
more  in  Cana,  after  His  nine  or  ten  months'  absence  from  Galilee.  His 
miraculous  power  over  sickness  and  physical  evil,  as  shovrn  in  Jerusalem, 
had  become  a  subject  of  universal  report,  finding  its  way  even  into  the 
gilded  seclusion  of  mansions  and  palaces.  Among  others,  a  high  officer 
of  the  court  of  Herod  Antipas,  whose  mansion  was  in  Capernaum,  had 
heard  of  the  wonderful  Teacher.  We  know  how  the  miracles  of  Christ 
reached  the  ears  of  Antipas  himself;  that  Menahem,  his  foster-brother, 
actually  became  an  humble  follower  of  Jesus,  and  that  Joanna,  the  wIlo 
of  Chuza,  the  house  steward  or  manager  of  the  private  affairs  of  Antipas, 
was  one  of  many  devoted  female  disciples  and  friends,  of  the  richer  classes 
— and  can,  thus,  easily  fancy  how  such  a  dignified  official  had  learned 
I'especting  the  new  wonder-working  Eabbi,  The  close  heat  of  the  borders 
of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  vvdth  their  fr-inge  of  reeds  and  marsh,  though  then 
tempered  by  the  shade  of  countless  orchards  and  wooded  clumps,  now 
wholly  wanting,  has  in  all  ages  induced  a  prevalence  of  fever,  at  certain 
seasons,  and  the  malady  had  now  seized  his  only  son,  avIio  was  still  a  child. 
He  had  been  led  to  look  on  Jesus  as  a  wonderful  Healer,  by  the  cures 
reported  to  have  been  wrought  by  Him,  but  he  had  not,  apparently, 
thought  of  Him  as  more.  Hearing  of  His  arrival  at  Cana,  the  hope  that 
He  might  save  his  son  instantly  deterixiined  him  to  go  thither  and  ask 
His  aid.  The  child,  he  said.,  was  at  the  point  of  death,  would  Jesus  come 
down  and  heal  him  ? 

There  was  something  in  the  poor  man's  bearing,  however,  that  showed 
the  superficial  conception  he  had  formed  of  Christ's  character  and  work. 
Miracles,  with  Jesus,  were  only  means  to  a  higher  end,  credentials  to  en- 
force the  reception  of  spiritual  truth.  That  truth  was  its  own  witness,  and 
had  sufficed  to  win  a  ready  homage  from  the  despised  people  of  Sychar. 
To  be  the  Healer  of  souls,  not  of  the  body,  was  His  great  mission,  but  the 
nobleman  had,  as  yet,  no  idea  of  Him  except  as  a  Hakim  or  Eophai,  who 
had  joroved  His  power  to  overcome  disease.  He  had  been  led  to  Him  not 
by  the  report  and  acceptance  of  the  great  truths  He  taught :  only  the 
rumour  of  His  miracles  had  created  interest  enough  to  pass  through  the 
land.  That  he  was  utterly  unconscious  of  the  spiritual  death  from  which 
he  himself  needed  to  be  rescued,  touched  the  sympathy  of  Christ.  "  How 
is  it,"  asked  He,  in  effect,  "  that  you  come  to  Me  only  for  outward  healing, 
and  believe  on  Me  only  as  a  worker  of  signs  and  wonders  ?  Have  you  no 
sense  of  sin;  no  craving  for  sj)iritual  healing;  no  iimer  sympathy  with 


OPENING   OF   THE    MINISTEY   IN    GALILEE.  343 

the  teaching  of  My  life  and  -words  ?  "  Without  moral  preparation  in  hi,s 
own  mind,  the  healing  of  his  son  might  confirm  hclief  in  the  power  of  the 
Healer;  but  would  bring  no  spiritual  reception  of  the  truth,  to  heal  tlie 
soul.  Apparently  repelling  him  for  the  moment,  Jesus  was,  in  fact,  open- 
ing his  eyes  to  the  far  greater  blessings  he  might  freely  obtain.  "With 
royal  bounty  He  Avished  to  bestow  the  greater  while  He  gave  the  less,  for 
it  was  His  wont,  after  needed  reproof,  to  give  more  than  had  been  asked. 
Meanwhile,  the  only  thought  of  the  parent's  heart  was  his  dying  boy. 
"  Sir,  come  down  ere  my  child  die."  Jesus  knew  that  he  would  believe 
if  his  son  were  healed,  but  wished  to  raise  a  higher  moral  frame,  which 
would  do  so  from  kindled  sympathy  with  spiritual  truth  Avithout  such  an 
outward  ground.  To  believe  His  word,  from  its  own  internal  evidence, 
showed  higher  faith  than  that  which  only  followed  miracles.  It  revealed 
a  recognition  of  the  truth  from  interest  in  it :  a  sensibility  of  soul  to  what 
was  pure  and  holy.  But  belief  as  the  result  of  miracles  was  not  discoun- 
tenanced :  it  was  only  held  inferior. 

The  nobleman  had  assumed  that  Jesus  would  go  back  with  him  to 
Capernaum,  and  heal  the  child;  but  he  was  before  One  to  whose  power 
distance  offered  no  hindrance.  With  the  eas}^  unaffected  dignity  of  con- 
scious superiority,  he  is  told  to  "go  his  way ;  his  son  lived:"  words  few 
and  simple,  but  enough  to  let  him  know  that  the  Speaker  had,  on  the 
instant,  healed  the  child.  Nor  could  he  doubt  it.  To  have  spoken  with 
Jesus  assured  him  that  he  might  believe  His  word.  Forthwith  he  set  out 
on  his  return. 

lb  was  about  twenty  miles  from  Cana  to  Capernaum,  and  the  miracle 
had  been  wrought  an  hour  after  noon.  Resting  by  the  way,  at  early 
nightfall,  as  he  well  might  on  a  road  so  insecure,  ho  started  again  next 
morning,  but  erelong  met  some  of  his  own  slaves,  sent  to  tell  him  the  good 
news  that  the  boy  was  convalescent,  and  to  prevent  his  bringing  Jesus 
any  further.  "Your  son,"  said  they,  "is  not  dead,  but  is  getting  better. 
The  fever  has  left  him."  "  When,"  asked  the  father,  "  did  he  begin  to 
amend  P  "  "  Yesterday,  about  one  o'clock,  the  fever  broke."  It  was  the 
very  time  when  Jesus  had  told  him  that  the  boy  would  live.  What  could 
ho  do  but  accept  Him  as  what  he  now  know  He  claimed  to  be— the  Messiah. 
"  Himself  belicA-cd  and  his  whole  house." 

How  long  Jesus  remained  in  Cana  is  not  known,  but  that  Ho  was  for  a 
time  unattended  by  the  small  band  of  disciples  vi'ho  had  accomjianied  Him 
to  the  Passover,  is  certain.  They  had  remained  with  Him,  in  Judca,  and 
had  returned  with  Him,  through  Sychar,  to  Galilee,  but,  after  so  long  an 
absence  from  home,  He  had  let  them  go  back  to  tlie  Lake  of  Galilee,  to 
their  occupations,  till  He  should  once  more  call  them  finally  to  His  service. 

He  had  retired  to  the  north,  before  the  rising  signs  of  opposition  from 
the  Pharisees,  who  had  at  last  found  means  to  get  John  imprisoned,  by 
their  intrigues  with  Antipas,  and  might,  at  any  moment,  have  effected 
His  own  arrest.  An  interval  of  some  months  now  elapsed,  perhaps  in 
stillness  and  privacy,  the  time  not  having  yet  come,  for  some  reasons 
unknown  to  us,  for  His  final  and  jiermanent  entrance  on  His  public  work. 
His  mother  and  the  family  had  returned  to  Nazareth  from  their  short 


o-i-i  Tiiii  JAW.  OF  rinasT. 

gtt>y  at  Cft)H>vua\mi.  ftiul.  it  is  most  pn^bivblo.  theivfun\  that  lie.  oiioo  moi-o, 
Avitlulrow  to  the  soolusiou  of  His  etuly  homo,  mul  li\ od  tlunv  foi-  u  tiino  in 
jvtiuMuoiit,  Tho  futo  of  tho  l^aptist  lutvv  luvvo  uuulo  it  neoossary  to  uvoid 
for  a  time  giving-  m\y  pivto-xt  of  politieal  Hlarm  to  Herod  by  His  at  onoo 
taking  Jo)u»'s  place.  Thivt  ono  so  Ycnoi^tod  liad  been  thi^own  into  tho 
dungvons  of  Maehaorus  dou\>tUvss  spit>ad  to  the  farthest  vjdleys.  IVU^n 
almost  hoped  thsit  tho  mighty  preaeher  woidd  sofu-n  tho  heai  t  oven  of 
Antipas.  and.  in  aiiy  ease,  could  not  cnnlit  that  a  man  so  cowardly  ami 
politic  Avonld  dai"0  to  take  the  life  (U"  the  honoxntnl  pi"0|)lxot.  This  and  that 
measure  of  the  tyrant  Avere  attributed  by  the  credulous  mvdtitudoto  John's 
intluence.  The  Avhole  country  Nvas  agitated,  day  after  day,  by  r\inionrs 
i"ospocting  him. 

Nor  wcTO  other  subjects  of  popular  excitement  wanting.  In  the  antuum 
of  that,  or  the  year  before,  apparently  at  tho  Feast  of  'rabernacles,  tlu>re 
had  been  a  tieive  struggle  between  the  lu>u\nn  garrison  at  Jernsaleui  and 
the  pilgrims  fi-om  Galilee,  ever  excitable  and  nn>dy  to  fight.  In  the  heat 
of  tho  contest  the  soldiers  from  Antouia  had  pressed  into  the  very  courts 
of  the  'I'emple,  and  had  hewn  down  the  l^aliUeans  at  the  great  altar,  beside 
their  sacritices,  mingling  their  blood  with  that  of  the  slain  beasts.  Tho 
sons  of  Judas  the  Galihvan,  tho  famous  leader  of  the  Zealots  in  their  first 
givat  insurrection  against  Ivome,  had.  moreover.  gTOAVu  up  to  manhood  in 
the  hills  ne.ar  Kazai-eth,  and  cherished  in  their  own  breasts,  and  kept  alive 
amojig  the  people,  their  father's  tiewo  scheme  for  the  erection  of  the  king- 
dom of  Gt)d  by  the  sword ;  a  fatal  inheritance,  for  which  they  were  one 
dav,  like  (Mirist.  to  be  crucitied.  The  whole  laiul  heaved  with  religions 
fanaticism  like  an  ever-thrcatoning  volcano.  Above  all  the  tunudt  txf  such 
a  state  of  things,  however,  the  impi'isoned  proi>het  was  the  one  thought  of 
the  oonntiy.  Laments  over  him,  mingled,  doubtless,  with  tierco  mutter- 
ing-s.  filled  every  market-place  and  every  home.  Tt  was  a  sign  of  tho 
glowing  religious  sensibility  of  the  times,  and  a  svuumons  to  Jesus  to  take 
up  tho  gi*eat  ww'k  thus  interrupted.  The  tyi'aut  in  Perea  had  silenced  the 
voice  that  had  proclaimed  the  eonxing  of  the  kingilom  of  God,  but  ile, 
whose  herald  John  had  been,  was  at  hand  to  take  it  up  agjviu,  witli  grander 
emphasis,  on  a  more  comn\andiug  theatre.  Isaiah,  the  son  of  Amoz,  had 
once  seen  a  vision  cf  Jehovah  in  tlx©  Temple,  and  had  recognised  his 
sunnnons  as  a  prophet,  when,  amidst  the  chants  of  the  Levites,  ai\d  the 
clouds  of  incense,  and  the  blasts  of  the  sacred  trumpets,  the  house  was 
filled  with  smoke,  and  the  very  earth  seemed  to  tremble.  The  Spirit  came 
on  Amos,  tho  shepherd,  as  he  followed  his  flocks  on  the  lonely  pastures, 
when  he  thought  how  the  Syrians  had  threshed  Gilead  with  in>n  sledges, 
and  how  Tyro  had  sold  the  sons  of  Israel  to  Edom  as  slaves;  and.  seeming 
to  hear  Jehovah  call  to  him  from  Zion,  and  thunder  from  Jerusalem,  ho 
forsook  his  hills,  to  be  a  shepherd  to  Israel.  The  loud  miiversal  lamenta- 
tions over  John  were  such  a  tiual  Piviue  call  to  Jesus. 

Finally  leaving  His  early  honve,  therefore.  He  bent  His  steps  once  more 
towards  Capernaum,  which  was,  henceforth,  to  become  '"  His  own  city," 
and  the  centre  of  His  futuie  work.  The  pi"ophet,  ages  befoi'O,  had  painted 
the  joyous  times  that  should  ctYace  the  memorv  of  the  Assvrian  invasion. 


OPENING   OF   THE    MINISTRY   IN   GALILEE.  Si'j 

and  in  the  aj/pcarance  of  Chrijst  in  these  regions,  their  full  realization  had 
now  come.  The  land  of  Zehulon,  and  the  land  of  Naphtali ;  the  country 
towards  tlie  Hea  of  Galilee;  the  districts  beyond  the  Jordan;  and  Galilee 
of  the  Geiitiles,  in  the  far  north,  towards  Tyre  and  Sidon— the  people  that 
sat  in  darkness, — saw  a  great  light,  and  to  them  that  sat  in  the  region  and 
shadow  of  death,  a  light  sprang  up.  Galilee  was  to  be  pre-eminently  the 
scene  of  the  ministry  of  Je:suH,  and  it  is  curious  that  even  the  llabbis,  in 
their  earliest  traditions,  express  the  belief  that  it  would  be  that  of  the 
manifestation  of  the  Messiah.  To  this  day,  Jews  gather  in  Tiberias,  one 
of  their  four  holy  cities,  from  all  parts  of  the  earth,  to  wait  for  the  coming 
of  the  Messiah,  or,  at  least,  to  be  buried  there,  in  expectation  of  His 
advent. 

It  would  seem  as  if  Jesus  Ixad,  for  a  time,  been  alone.  The  country  was 
densely  peopled,  and  He  may  have  passed  on,  slowly,  from  village  to  vil- 
lage, opening  His  mission.  The  burden  of  His  preaching  was  the  same  as 
that  of  John.  "  The  time  is  fulfilled,  and  the  kingdom  of  God  is  at  hand : 
repent  and  believe  in  the  Gospel."  But  though  the  same  in  form,  the  im- 
port of  the  words  in  the  mouth  of  .Tesus  was  very  different  from  that  of 
their  earlier  utterance  by  His  herald.  John  had  striven  to  reform  Israel 
by  demanding  strict  outward  observances,  as  strict  morality,  but  Jesus 
went  deeper,  and  required  a  revolution  of  the  will  and  affections,  flowing 
from  changed  relations  to  God.  He  would  have  no  new  pieces  on  old 
garments ;  no  new  wine  in  old  bottles  ;  no  religious  reform  on  the  basis  of 
a  compromise  with  formal  Judaism.  Israel  had  sunk  into  spiritual  death, 
in  spite  of  its  zeal  for  the  precepts  of  the  Eabbis,  and  the  letter  of  the 
Scriptures  :  its  piety  had  degenerated  largely  into  hypocritical  affectation, 
and  merely  lip  and  outward  assent  to  the  requirements  of  God's  law.  Its 
mission  to  the  great  heathen  world  had  become  a  failure.  A  wholly  new 
principle  was  needed  to  take  the  place  of  the  now  decayed  and  obsolete 
dispensation  of  Moses  ;  the  principle  of  direct  personal  responsibility  to 
God  and  spiritual  freedom,  instead  of  pi'iestly  mediation  and  theocratic 
slavery.  Tlie  Baptist  v.^as,  throughout,  an  upholder  of  the  ceremonial  law, 
and  had  jio  adequate  conce])tion  of  a  purely  spiritual  religion.  It  was  re- 
served to  Jesus  to  teach  that  only  a  religious  and  moral  new  birth  of  Israel 
and  of  humanity  could  avail.  He  was  the  first  who  founded  a  religion, 
not  on  external  precepts,  or  on  a  priesthood,  or  on  sacrificial  rites,  but  in 
the  living  spirit;  in  individual  personal  conviction;  in  the  free,  loving 
surrender  of  the  will  to  God,  as  the  eternal  Truth  and  Good :  a  religion 
which  looked  first,  not  at  mere  acts,  but  at  what  men  were,  and  set  no 
value  on  actions  apart  from  the  motive  from  which  they  sprang. 

Hence,  the  call  to  repentance  was  addressed  to  all  without  exception. 
He  recognised  the  difference  between  man  and  man,  and  acknowledged 
the  existence  of  possible  good,  even  in  the  apparently  hopeless.  He  spoke 
of  the  good  and  evil,  the  righteous  and  unrighteous,  the  just  and  unjust, 
those  who  had  gone  astray  and  those  who  had  not ;  of  the  sound  and  the 
sick ;  of  the  pure  and  the  imjjure  ;  of  green  trees  and  dry ;  of  a  good  and 
an  evil  eye,  and  of  good  soil  and  bad.  Surveying  men,  as  a  whole,  with  a 
calm  and  searching  insight,  He  rejoiced  in  the  light  which  shone  in  some 


346  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

souls  in  the  midst  of  darkness  around  and  witliin  them,  and  acknowledged 
its  -worth.  No  cold  fear  of  compromise  damped  His  ardour ;  frank  joy 
and  radiant  hopefulness,  that  detected  good  with  instinctive  quickness, 
cheered  His  spirit  to  greater  effort.  It  is,  indeed,  His  glory  that  He  led  not 
only  the  humble  and  penitent,  but  the  openly  evil,  to  a  higher  and  purer  life. 

Yet,  though  thus  wide  in  His  charity,  He  had  a  standard  by  which  all 
men  alike  were  pronounced  sinful,  and  in  need  of  rejientanco.  In  the 
highest  sense,  God  alone  was  good.  Tried  by  this  awful  tost  of  com- 
parison with  Him,  all  men  were  "  unclean,"  "  coi^rupt,"  "  dark,"  "  blind," 
"  lustful,"  " selfish,"  worldly  in  thought,  word,  and  act;  dry  trees,  dead 
and  lost.  All  are  pronounced  in  danger  of  the  wrath  of  God.  They  may 
]3e  more  or  less  sinful  in  degree  ;  but  all  alike  must  seek  forgiveness  ;  all 
must  repent  and  be  changed,  or  perish. 

Tluis,  when  comparing  men  with  men,  He  recognised  better  and  worse ; 
l)iit  before  God,  and  in  relation  to  citizenship  in  His  kingdom.  He  acknow- 
ledged no  difference,  but  condemned  all  alike  as  sinners.  Before  the  One 
who  alone  is  pure  and  holy,  He  humbles  all.  Ho  will  suffer  no  empty 
pride  in  the  presence  of  the  Creator.  In  His  sight  no  one  is  to  be  called 
good.  All  are  guilty,  and  even  the  best  need  pardon.  In  this  view  of 
man  He  declared  that  He  had  not  come  to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners 
to  repentance.  Even  the  best  of  men,  though  righteous  before  their 
fellows,  are  guilty  before  God.  It  is  the  unique  characteristic  of  the 
teaching  of  Jesus,  that  while  He  distinctly  proclaims  the  moral  differences 
between  man  and  man,  He  insists  with  supreme  and  unchangeable  earnest- 
ness on  the  infinite  moral  distance  and  contrast  between  the  creature  and 
the  Creator.  All  before  Him  are  evil,  or  have  evil  in  them.  There  may 
be  good  among  the  bad,  but  sin  is  not  wanting  even  in  the  best.  The 
repentance  He  preacked  Avas  the  child-like  humility  which  has  no  claim  to 
merit,  but,  conscious  of  its  own  weakness,  resigns  its  will  to  the  guidance 
of  God,  and  seeks  His  forgiveness.     It  has  already  entered  His  kingdom. 

Nothing  is  told  respecting  the  extent  of  this  first  northern  missionary 
tour,  beyond  the  incidental  remark  that  it  embraced  the  towns  and  villages 
thickly  studded  round  the  western  shore  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee.  The 
fame  of  His  deeds  at  Jerusalem  had  everywhere  preceded  Him,  and  at- 
tracted large  crowds  wherever  He  came.  As  yet  He  was  alone,  for  His 
early  followers  had  returned  to  their  calling  of  fishermen,  at  Bethsaida 
and  Capernaum.  Beaching  this  neighbourhood  after  a  time,  an  incident 
occurred  which  once  more  drew  them  from  their  nets,  and  transformed 
them  into  future  apostles. 

Jesus  had  risen  early  in  the  morning,  as  is  the  custom  with  Orientals, 
and  had  gone  out  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  which  was  close  at  hand.  The 
stillness  of  the  morning  promised  temporary  relief  from  the  crowds  who 
daily  thronged  Him,  and  a  much  needed  interval  for  peaceful  solitude. 
But  there  was,  henceforth,  no  rest  for  the  Son  of  Man.  The  people  were 
already  afoot,  and  had  hurried  out  to  the  beach,  in  numbers,  "to  hear 
the  Word  of  God;"  for  they  recognised  Him  as  speaking  with  Divine 
authority,  like  John,  or  one  of  the  prophets.  Unable  to  advance,  and 
willing  to  feed  these  "  sheep  of  the  House  of  Israel,"  He  turned  towards 


OPENINCr   OF   THE    MINISTRY   IN    GALILEE.  347 

two  boats  drawn  up  on  the  white  beach  ;  the  fishermen  having  come  ashore, 
after  a  fruitless  night's  hibour,  to  wash  and  mend  their  nets.  The  one 
boat  was  that  of  His  old  disciples  Peter  and  Andrew,  the  other,  that  of 
James  and  John,  who  with  their  father  Zebedec,  and  some  hired  men,  were 
busy  prcjoaring  for  the  next  evening's  venture.  To  meet  again  must  have 
been  as  pleasant  to  their  Master  as  themselves,  and  their  lowly  occupation 
must  have  lost  its  charm  at  the  recollection  of  the  time  v.'hen  thoy  had 
shared  His  society.  Entering  into  Peter's  boat,  and  asking  him  to  thrust 
out  a  little  from  the  land,  that  He  might  have  freedom  to  address  the 
people,  He  sat  down,  as  was  usual  with  the  Rabbis  when  they  taught,  and 
spoke  to  the  crowd  standing  on  the  shore.  The  clear  rijipling  water 
playing  gently  round  the  boat ;  the  fields,  and  vineyards,  and  olive  groves 
behind ;  the  eager  listeners,  with  their  varied  and  picturesque  Eastern 
dress ;  the  wondrous  Preacher ;  the  calmness  and  delicious  coolness  of 
morning,  and,  over  all,  the  cloudless  Sj-rian  sky,  must  have  made  the 
scene  striking  in  the  extreme. 

The  iDublic  addresses  of  the  Rabbis  were  always  very  short,  and  so, 
doubtless,  were  those  of  Jesus.  The  people  were  soon  dismissed,  and 
wandered  off,  to  discuss,  as  Jewish  congregations  oiways  d.id,  the  sayings 
they  had  heard.  Bnt  Jesus  had  received  a  service,  in  the  use  of  His 
strange  pulpit,  and  wished  to  repay  it,  as  only  He  could.  Telling  Peter, 
the  steersman  of  the  boat,  to  push  off  into  the  deep  vv^ater.  He  bade  him 
and  his  brother  let  down  the  net.  It  was  a  circular  one,  cast  from  the 
boat,  and  then  dragged  slowly  behind,  towards  the  shore.  The  fish  in  the 
Sea  of  Galilee  must  always  have  been  very  abundant,  even  when  the 
fisheries  were  so  active,  for,  at  this  day,  their  number  can  scarcely  be 
conceived  by  those  who  have  not  been  on  the  spot.  The  shoals  freqixently 
cover  an  acre  of  the  lake,  or  even  more,  and  the  fish,  as  they  slowly  move 
along  the  surface,  with  their  back  fins  just  seen  on  the  level  of  the  water, 
roughen  it  so  that  it  looks,  a  short  way  off,  as  if  beaten  by  a  heavy  shower. 
But  Simon  and  liis  brother  had  had  no  success,  though  they  had  spent  the 
night,  when  fishing  is  best,  in  fruitless  efforts.  There  was  no  hesitation, 
however,  in  obeying  the  command,  and  they  had  hardly  done  so,  when 
they  ^wept  into  a  shoal,  and  had  to  beckon  to  James  and  John,  their  j^ai-t- 
ners,  to  come  quickly,  and  save  their  net  from  breaking  with  the  catch. 
Even  then,  however,  the  two  boats  were  loaded  to  the  water's  edge,  and 
seemed  as  if  they  would  sink. 

Peter,  ever  impulsive,  could  not  restrain  his  feelings  at  such  an  incident 
—  so  unexpected,  so  grateful.  He  who  had  wrought  so  great  a  wonder 
must  have  unknown  and  inconceivable  powers,  before  which  man,  guilty 
as  he  feels  himself,  might  well  be  afraid.  Falling  down  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus,  he  could  only  utter  the  words — "  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful 
man,  0  Lord."  Nor  were  his  companions  less  astonished  at  the  miracle. 
But  Jesus  had  a  high  purpose  with  these  simple,  open-hearted  friends. 
They  had  shown  their  sjanpathy  of  spirit  with  Him  already,  and  now  He 
designed  to  attach  them  permanently  to  His  service.  "  Fear  not,"  said 
He ;  "  come  after  Me ;  from  henceforth  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men. 
You  catcli  the  fish  to  their  death ;  you  will  take  men  alive,  to  save  them 


348  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

from  death,  and  give  them  eternal  life."  It  was  enough.  Words  so  apt 
had  their  effect.  From  that  moment  the  £onr  were  His  devoted  follov/ers. 
The  rich  gain  they  would  have  jn-ized  so  highly  but  an  hour  before,  had 
lost  its  charm.  Called  to  decide,  there  and  then,  as  a  proof  of  their  meet- 
ness  for  discipleship,  they  forsook  all,  and  followed  Him  at  once. 

The  few  who  had  first  joined  Christ,  and  by  doing  so  had  shown  tlieir 
fitness  for  His  special  intimacy  and  confidence,  were  thus,  once  more 
gathered  round  Him,  and  lived  with  Him  henceforth,  apparently  in  the 
same  dwelling,  on  a  nearer  and  more  tender  footing  than  any  He  after- 
wards received.  They  had  often  heard  Him  speak  of  the  kingdom  of  God; 
of  the  need  of  faith  in  Himself  and  of  a  sincere  religious  spirit,  as  the 
conditions  of  entering  it,  and  they  yearned  for  closer  intercourse  Avith 
Him,  that  they  might  learn  more  respecting  it.  Their  instant  obedience 
showed  their  devotion.  All  that  had  hitherto  engaged  their  thoughts  and 
care,— their  boats,  their  nets,  their  fishing  gear,  their  daily  toil  for  daily 
bread, — were  left  behind.  They  placed  themselves,  henceforth,  under  the 
higher  authority  of  G  od  Himself ;  ready  at  any  time  to  se]3arate  themselves 
even  from  their  families,  in  the  interest  of  the  new  Kingdom.  Jesus  had 
drawn  them  to  Himself  as  they  were  to  draw  others,  not  by  craft  or  force, 
but  by  the  power  of  His  living  words  and  the  s]3irit  of  love.  Their  loyalty 
was  free  and  spontaneous.  The  calm  greatness  of  the  character  of  Christ 
shines  out  in  such  an  unpretending  beginning,  as  the  germ  and  centre  of  a 
movement  which  is  to  revolutionize  the  world.  But  insignificant  as  it 
might  seem,  it  was  only  so  when  judged  by  a  human  standard.  Tainted 
by  no  selfislmess,  weak  ambition,  or  love  of  power,  the  four  siinple,  child- 
like, uncorruj^ted  natures,  touched  with  the  love  of  Heavenly  Truth,  and 
eager  to  win  others  to  embrace  it,  Avere  living  spiritual  forces,  destined  by 
a  law  of  nature  to  repeat  themselves  in  ever  wider  circles,  through  suc- 
cessive generations. 

The  fishermen  and  sailors  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee  were  a  numerous  and 
redoubted  class,  with  something  of  the  feeling  of  a  clan.  In  the  last 
Jewish  war  we  find  them,  under  the  leadership  of  Jesus  son  of  Sapphias, 
seizing  Tiberias,  and  burning  and  plundering  the  great  palace  of  Antipas. 
Of  the  four  who  had  now  definitely  cast  in  their  lot  Avith  Christ,  Peter  and 
Andrew  Avcre  apparently  poor ;  James  and  John,  in  a  better  position.  For 
the  convenience  of  trade,  both  families  had  left  the  neighbouring  toAvn 
of  Bethsaida,  and  had  settled  in  Capernaum,  one  of  the  centres  of  the  local 
fisheries,  and  of  the  occupations  connected  with  them.  Peter  alone  seems 
to  have  been  married,  and  in  his  house  Jesus  henceforth  found  a  home,  as 
perhaps  He  had  done  on  His  former  short  stay. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

CAPERNAUM. 


rriHE  final  "call"  addressed  to  Peter  and  his  brother,  and  to  James  and 

John,  at  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  apparently  insignificant  as  an  event, 

proved  to  have  been,  in   reality,  one  of  the  turning  points  in  the   history 


CArERNAUM.  349 

of  the  world.  Tlio  "call"  of  Abraham  bad  given  tbc  world,  as  an  ever- 
lasthig  inheritance,  the  grand  truth  of  a  Living  Personal  God;  that  of 
Moses  bad  created  a  nation,  in  which  the  active  government  of  human 
affairs  by  one  God  was  to  be  illustrated,  and  His  will  made  known  directly 
to  mankind:  but  tbat  of  the  poor  Galitean  fishermen  was  the  foundation 
of  a  Society,  for  which  all  that  had  preceded  it  was  only  the  preparation ; 
a  Society  in  which  all  that  was  merely  outward  and  temporary  in  the 
relations  of  God  to  man,  should  be  laid  aside,  and  all  that  was  imperfect 
and  material  replaced  by  the  perfect,  spiritual,  and  abiding.  Tbe  true 
theocracy,  towards  which  mankind  had  been  slowly  advancing,  through 
ages,  had  received  its  first  overt  establishment,  when  Peter  heard,  on  his 
knees,  the  summons  of  Jesus  to  follow  Him,  and  had,  with  the  others,  at 
once  from  the  heart,  obeyed.  Henceforth,  it  only  remained  to  extend  the 
kingdom  thus  founded,  by  winning  the  consciences  of  men  to  the  same 
devotion,  by  the  annoiincement  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  the  need 
of  seeking  His  favour  by  repentance  and  faith  in  His  Divine  Son  ;  leading 
to  a  holy  life,  of  which  that  of  Jesus,  as  the  Saviour-Messiah,  was  the 
realized  ideal. 

From  the  shores  of  the  lake,  Christ  went  to  the  house  of  Peter,  accepting 
his  invitation  to  share  his  hospitality. 

The  little  town  itself,  with  its  two  or  three  thousand  inhabitants,  was 
surrounded  by  a  wall,  and  lay  partly  along  the  shore ;  some  of  the  houses 
close  to  the  water ;  others  with  a  garden  between  it  and  them.  The  black 
lava  or  basalt,  of  which  all  were  built,  was  universally  whitewashed,  so 
that  the  town  was  seen  to  fine  effect,  from  a  distance,  through  the  green 
of  its  numerous  trees  and  gardens.  Peter's  household  consisted  of  his 
wife  and  her  mother — doubtless  a  widow — whom  his  kindly  nature  had 
brought  to  this  second  home,  Andrew  his  brother,  and  now,  of  Jesus,  his 
guest.  James  and  John,  probably,  still  lived  with  their  father  in  Caper- 
naum, and  the  whole  four  followed  their  calling  in  the  intervals  of  attend- 
ing their  new  Master. 

It  appears  to  have  been  on  a  Friday  that  Jesus  summoned  Peter  and 
his  companions.  The  day  passed,  doubtless,  in  further  work  for  the 
Kingdom.  As  the  sun  set,  the  beginning  of  the  Sabbath  was  announced 
by  three  blasts  of  a  trumpet,  from  the  roof  of  the  spacious  synagogue  of 
the  town,  which  the  devout  commandant  of  the  garrison,  though  not  a 
Jew,  had  built  for  the  people.  The  first  blast  wai'ned  the  peasants,  in  the 
far-stretching  vineyards  and  gardens,  to  cease  their  toil ;  the  second  was 
the  signal  for  the  townsfolk  to  close  their  business  for  the  week ;  and  the 
third,  for  all  to  kindle  the  holy  Sabbath  light,  which  was  to  burn  till  the 
sacred  day  was  past.  It  was  the  early  spring,  and  the  days  were  still 
short,  for  even  in  summer  it  is  hardly  morning  twilight,  in  Palestine,  at 
four,  and  the  light  is  gone  by  eight.  Jesus  did  not,  however,  go  that 
night  to  Peter's  house,  but  spent  the  hours  in  solitary  devotion.  We  can 
fancy,  from  what  is  elsewhere  told  us,  that  the  day  closed  while  He  still 
spoke  to  a  listening  crowd,  under  some  palm-tree  or  by  the  wayside.  As 
the  moon  rose  beyond  the  hills,  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  He  would 
dismiss  His  hearers,  with  words  of  comfort  and  a  greeting  of  peace,  and 


350  THE   LIFE   OF   CHEIST. 

then  turn  to  the  silent  hilly  behind,  to  be  alone  with  His  Heavenly  Father, 
On  their  lonely  heights,  the  noise  of  men  lay  far  beneath  Him,  and  Ho 
could  find  rest  after  the  toils  of  the  day.  A  wide  panorama  of  land  and 
water  stretched  away  on  all  sides  in  the  white  moonlight.  He  M'as  Him- 
self its  centre,  and  gazed  on  it  with  inexpressible  sympathy  and  emotion. 
We  can  imagine  Him  spreading  out  His  arms,  as  if  to  take  it  all  to  Hia 
heart,  and  then  prostrating  Himself,  as  ib  were  with  it,  before  God,  to 
intercede  for  it  with  the  Eternal;  His  brow  touching  the  earth  in  lowly 
abasement,  while  He  pleaded  for  man  as  His  friend  and  brother,  in  words 
of  infinite  love  and  tenderness.  "  Eising,  erelong,  in  strong  emotion,  it 
would  seem  as  if  He  held  up  the  world  in  His  lifted  hands,  to  offer  it  to 
His  Father.  He  spoke,  was  silent,  then  spoke  again.  His  prayer  was 
holy  inter-communion  with  God.  At  first  low  and  almost  in  a  whisper, 
His  voice  gi-adually  became  loud  and  joyous,  till  it  echoed  back  from  the 
rocks  around  Him.  Thus  the  night  passed,  till  morning  broke  and  found 
Him,  once  more  in  silent  devotion,  prostrate  as  if  overcome ;  but  the  dawn 
of  day  was  the  signal  for  His  rising,  and  passing  doAvn  again  to  the  abodes 
of  men." 

The  morning  service  in  the  synagogue  began  at  nine,  and  as  the  news 
of  the  great  Rabbi  being  in  the  neighlwurhood  had  spread,  every  one 
strove  to  attend,  in  hopes  of  seeing  Him.  Women  came  to  it  by  back 
streets,  as  was  required  of  them;  the  men,  with  slow  Sabbath  steps, 
gathered  in  great  numbers.  The  elders  had  taken  their  seats,  and  the 
Ecader  had  recited  the  Eighteen  Prayers — the  congregation  answering 
with  their  Amen — for  though  the  prayers  might  be  abridged  on  other 
days,  they  could  not  be  shortened  on  the  Sabbath.  ISText  came  the  first 
lesson  for  the  day,  the  people  rising  and  turning  reverently  towards  the 
Shrine,  and  chanting  the  words  after  the  Eeader.  Another  lesson  then 
followed,  and  the  Eeader,  at  its  close,  called  on  Jesus,  as  a  Eabbi  present 
in  the  congregation,  to  speak  from  the  passage  to  the  people. 

His  words  must  have  sounded  strangely  new  and  attractive,  for,  apart 
from  their  vividness  and  force,  they  spoke  of  matters  of  the  most  vital 
interest,  which  the  Eabbis  left  wholly  untouched.  He  had  founded  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  and  now  sought  to  build  it  up  by  realizing  its  conditions 
in  the  souls  of  men,  who  should  each,  forthwith,  be  living  centres  of 
influence  on  others.  But  a  course  so  retired  and  unknown  to  the  world  at 
large,  as  that  which  He  followed,  of  speaking  to  modest  assemblies  in 
local  synagogues,  makes  it  easy  to  understand  how  His  life  might  be 
overlooked  by  the  public  writers  of  the  age.  Tet,  in  the  little  world  in 
which  He  moved,  the  noiseless  agency  by  which  He  carried  on  His  work 
created  an  intense  impression.  He  gave  old  truths  an  unwonted  freshness 
of  presentation,  and  added  much  that  sounded  entirely  new,  on  His  own 
authority,  instead  of  confining  Himself,  like  the  Eabbis,  to  lifeless  repeti- 
tions of  traditional  commonplaces,  delivered  with  a  dread  of  the  least 
deviation  or  originality.  They  claimed  no  power  to  say  a  word  of  their 
own ;  He  spoke  with  a  startling  independence.  Their  synagogue  sermons, 
as  Ave  see  in  the  Book  of  Jubilees,  were  a  tiresome  iteration  of  the  minutest 
Rabbinical  rules,  with  a  serious  importance  which  regarded  them  as  the 


CAPERNAUM..  351 

basis  of  all  moral  order.  The  kind  and  quality  of  -wood  for  tlie  altar ;  the 
infinite  details  of  the  law  of  tithes;  the  moral  dcadliuess  of  the  use  of 
blood ;  or  the  indispensableness  of  circumcision  on  the  eighth  day,  were 
urged  with  passionate  zeal  as  momentous  and  fundamental  truths.  The 
morality  and  religion  of  the  age  had  sunk  thus  low,  and  hence,  the  fervid 
Avords  of  Jesus,  stirring  the  depths  of  the  heart,  created  pi-ofound  excite- 
ment in  Capernaum.  Men  were  amazed  at  the  phenomenon  of  novelty,  in 
a  religious  sphere  so  imchangeably  conservative  as  that  of  the  synagogue. 
"New  teaching,"  said  one  to  the  other,  "and  with  authority— not  like 
other  Eabbis.  They  only  repeat  the  old :  this  man  takes  on  Him  to  speak 
without  reference  to  the  past."  But  if  they  were  astonished  at  His  teach- 
ing, they  were  still  more  so  at  the  power  wliich  He  revealed  in  connection 
with  it.  Among  those  who  had  gone  to  the  synagogue  that  morning  was 
an  unhap]iy  man,  the  victim  of  a  calamity  incident  apparently  to  the  age 
of  Christ  and  the  Apostles  only.  He  was  '"'possessed  by  a  spirit  of  an 
unclean  demon."  Our  utter  ignorance  of  the  spiritual  world  leaves  the 
significance  of  such  words  a  mystery,  though  the  popular  idea  of  the  time 
is  handed  down  by  the  Rabbis.  An  unclean  demon,  in  the  language  of 
Christ's  day,  was  an  evil  spirit  that  drove  the  person  possessed,  to  haunt 
burial-places  and  other  spots  most  unclean  in  the  eyes  of  Jews.  There 
were  men  who  affected  the  black  art,  pretending,  like  the  witch  of  Endor, 
to  raise  the  dead,  and,  for  that  end,  lodging  in  tombs,  and  macerating 
themselves  with  fasting,  to  secure  the  fuller  aid  and  inspiration  of  such 
evil  spirits ;  and  others  into  vAom  the  demons  entered,  driving  them 
involuntarily  to  these  dismal  habitations.  Both  classes  were  regarded  as 
under  the  power  of  this  order  of  beings,  but  it  is  not  told  us  to  which  of 
the  two  the  person  present  in  the  synagogue  belonged. 

The  service  had  gone  on  apparently  without  interruption  till  Jesus 
began  to  speak.  Then,  however,  a  paroxysm  seized  the  unhappy  man. 
Eising  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation,  a  wild  howl  of  demoniacal  frenzy 
burst  from  him,  that  must  have  frozen  the  blood  of  all  with  horror. 
"  Ha  '  "  yelled  the  demon.  "  What  have  we  to  do  with  Thee,  Jesus,  the 
Nazarene  ?  Thou  comest  to  destroy  us  !  I  know  Thee,  who  Thou  art ; 
the  Holy  One  of  God  !  "  Among  the  crowd  Jesus  alone  remained  calm. 
He  would  not  have  acknowledgment  of  His  Messiahship  from  such  a 
source.  "  Hold  thy  peace,"  said  He,  indignantly,  "  and  come  out  of  him." 
The  spirit  felt  its  Master,  and  that  it  must  obey,  but,  demon  to  the  last, 
threw  the  man  down  in  the  midst  of  the  congregation,  tearing  him  as  it 
did  so,  and  then,  Avith  a  wild  howl,  fled  out  of  him.  Nothing  could  have 
happened  better  fitted  to  impress  the  audience  favourably  towards  Jesus. 
"This  new  teaching,"  said  they  amongst  themselves,  "is  with  authority. 
It  cai'ries  its  warrant  with  it." 

So  startling  an  incident  had  broken  up  the  service  for  the  time,  and 
Jesus  retired,  with  His  four  disciples,  and  the  rest  of  the  congregation. 
But  His  day's  work  of  mercy  had  only  begun.  Arriving  at  His  modest 
homo,  he  found  the  mother  of  Peter's  wife  struck  down  with  a  violent 
attack  of  tlie  local  fever  for  which  Capernaum  had  so  bad  a  notoriety. 
The  quantity  of  marsliy  land  in  the  neighbourhood,  especially  at  the  en- 


352  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

trance  of  tlic  Jordan  into  the  lake,  had  made  fever  of  a  very  malignant 
type  at  times  the  characteristic  of  the  locality,  so  that  the  physicians 
would  not  allow  Josephus,  when  hurt  by  his  horse  sinking  in  the  neigh- 
bouring marsh,  to  sleep  even  a  single  night  in  Capernaum,  but  hurried 
him  on  to  TarichcT3a.  It  was  not  to  bo  thonght  that  He  who  had  just  sent 
joy  and  healing  into  the  heart  of  a  stranger,  would  withhold  His  aid  when 
a  friend  recpiired  it.  The  anxious  relatives  forthwith  besought  His  help, 
but  the  gentlest  hint  would  have  sufficed.  It  mattered  not  that  it  was 
fever :  He  was  forthwith  in  the  chamber,  bending  over  the  sick  woman, 
and  rebuking  the  disease  as  if  it  had  been  an  evil  personality.  He  took  her 
by  the  hand,  doubtless  with  a  look  and  words  which  made  her  His  for 
ever,  and  gently  raising  her,  she  found  the  fever  gone  and  health  and 
strength  returned,  so  that  she  could  prepare  the  midday  meal  for  her 
household  and  their  wondrous  guest. 

The  strict  laws  of  the  Jewish  Sabbath  gave  a  few  hours  of  rest  to  all, 
but  the  blast  of  the  trnmpet  which  announced  its  close  was  the  signal  for 
a  renewal  of  the  popular  excitement,  now  increased  by  the  rumour  of  a 
second  miracle.  With  the  setting  of  the  sun  it  was  once  more  lawful  to 
move  beyond  the  two  thousand  paces  of  a  Sabbath-day's  journej',  and  to 
carry  whatever  burdens  one  pleased.  Forthwith,  began  to  gather  from 
every  street,  and  from  the  thickly  sown  towns  and  villages  round,  the 
strangest  assemblage.  The  child  led  its  blind  father  as  near  the  enclosure 
of  Simon's  house  as  the  throng  permitted  :  the  father  came  carrjdng  the 
sick  child ;  men  bore  the  helpless  in  swinging  hammocks  ;  "  all  that  had 
any  sick,  with  whatever  disease,"  brought  them  to  the  Great  Healer.  The 
whole  town  was  in  motion,  and  crowded  before  the  house.  What  the  sick 
of  even  a  small  town  implied  may  be  imagined.  Fevers,  convulsions, 
asthma,  wasting  consumption,  swollen  dropsy,  shaking  palsy,  the  deaf,  the 
dumb,  the  brain-affected,  and,  besides  all,  "  many  that  were  possessed 
^vith  devils,"  that  last,  worst  symptom  of  the  despairing  misery  and  dark 
confusion  of  the  times. 

Would  He  leave  them  as  they  were  ?  They  had  taken  it  for  granted 
that  He  would  pity  them,  for  was  He  not  a  Prophet  of  God,  and  was  it 
not  natural  that,  like  Elijah  or  Elisha,  the  greatest  of  the  prophets,  the 
power  of  God  might  be  present  to  heal  those  who  were  bronght  to  Him  ? 
Already,  moreover,  His  characteristics  had  won  the  confidence  of  the 
simple  crowd.  There  must  have  been  a  mysterious  sympathy  and  good- 
ness in  His  looks,  and  words,  and  even  in  His  bearing,  that  seemed  to 
beckon  the  wretched  to  Him  as  their  friend,  and  that  conquered  all  un- 
corrupted  hearts.  It  had  drawn  His  disciples  from  the  interests  of  gain, 
to  follow  Him  in  His  poverty ;  it  melted  into  tears  the  woman  that  was  a 
sinner ;  it  softened  the  hard  nature  of  publicans ;  and  drew  hundreds  of 
Aveary  and  heavy-laden  to  Him  for  rest.  Those  who  could,  gathered 
wherever  they  might  hope  to  find  Him,  and  as  it  was  this  evening,  those 
who  could  not  move,  had  themselves  carried  into  His  presence.  As  many 
as  could,  strove  to  touch,  if  it  were  possible,  even  His  clothes ;  others  con- 
fessed their  sins  aloud,  and  owned  that  their  illness  was  the  punishment 
from  God.     One  would  not  venture  to  ask  Him  to  come  to  his  house ; 


CAPERNAUM.  353 

another  brought  Him  in  that  He  might  be,  as  it  were,  constrained  to  help. 
The  bbnd  cried  out  to  Him  from  the  roadside,  and  the  woman  of  Canaan 
followed  Him  in  spite  of  His  hard  words.  When  He  came  near,  even 
those  possessed  felt  His  Divine  greatness.  Trembling  in  cxevj  limb,  they 
would  fain  have  fled,  but  felt  rooted  to  the  spot,  the  evil  spirits  owning,  in 
wild  shrieks,  the  presence  of  One  whose  goodness  was  torment,  and  before 
whose  will  they  must  yield  up  their  prey. 

The  sight  of  so  much  misery  crowding  for  relief  touched  Jesus  at  once, 
and  He  soon  appeared  at  the  open  door,  before  the  excited  crowd.  With 
a  command,  "  Hold  thy  peace,  and  come  out  of  him,"  a  poor  demoniac  was 
presently  in  his  right  mind.  The  helpless  lame  stood  u^j  at  the  words  "  I 
say  unto  thee,  Arise."  The  paralytic  left  his  conch,  at  the  sound  of  "  Take 
U13  thy  bed  and  walk."  To  some.  He  had  a  word  of  comfort  that  dispelled 
alarm  and  drove  oft"  its  secret  cause.  "  Be  it  to  thee  according  to  thy 
faith."  "  Woman,  thou  art  loosed  from  thine  infirmity."  "  Be  of  good 
cheer,  my  son,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee,"  was  enough  to  turn  sorrow  and 
pain  into  joy  and  health.  Erelong  He  had  spoken  to  all  some  word  of 
mercy.  The  blind  left  with  their  sight  restored ;  the  possessed  thanked 
God  for  their  restoration ;  the  fever-stricken  felt  the  glow  of  returning 
vigour ;  the  dumb  shouted  His  praises  ;  and  thus  the  strange  crowd  went 
off  one  by  one,  leaving  the  house  once  more  in  the  silence  of  the  night. 
No  wonder  the  Evangelist  saw  in  such  an  evening  a  fulfilment  of  the 
words  of  the  prophet,  "Himself  took  our  infirmities  and  bore  our  diseases." 

It  was  not,  however,  by  popular  excitement  and  mere  outward  healing 
that  the  kingdom  of  God  was  to  be  spread,  but  by  the  still  and  gentle  in- 
fluence of  the  Truth,  working  conviction  in  individual  souls.  The  noisy 
crowd;  the  thronging  numbers  of  diseased  and  suffering;  the  curiosity 
that  ran  after  excitement,  and  the  yearning  for  help  which  looked  only  to 
outward  healing,  troubled  and  almost  alarmed  Him.  He  had  come  to 
found  a  Spiritual  Society,  of  men  changed  in  heart  towards  God,  and  filled 
with  faith  in  Himself  as  its  Head;  and  the  merely  extei'nal  and  mostly 
selfish  notions  of  the  multitude  could  not  escape  His  keen  eyes.  His 
Divine  love  and  pity  sighed  over  the  bodily  and  mental  distress  around. 
But,  as  a  rule,  the  sufferers  thought  only  of  their  outward  misery,  in 
melancholy  ignorance  of  its  secret  source  in  their  own  sin  and  guilt  before 
God,  and  felt  no  wants  besides,  when  their  bodily  troubles  were  removed. 

In  one  aspect,  indeed,  these  miraculous  cures  furthered  the  great  pur- 
pose of  Jesus.  They  might  prove  no  doctrine  ;  for  mere  power  could  not 
establish  moral  and  spiritual  truth.  Miracles  might  possibly  be  wrought 
by  other  influences  than  Divine,  and  they  left  religious  teaching  to  stand 
on  its  own  merits,  for  they  appealed  only  to  the  senses ;  not,  like  truth,  to 
the  soul.  The  display  of  overwhelming  power  might  almost  seem,  indeed, 
to  endanger,  rather  than  promote,  the  higher  aim  of  Jesus ;  to  win  those 
whom  He  addressed.  It  awes  and  repels  men  to  find  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  forces  Avhicli  they  can  neither  resist  nor  understand.  Ignorant 
minds  tremble  before  powers  which  may  be  used  to  destroy  them,  and 
seek  to  win  their  favour  by  the  flattery  of  worship  ;  surrounding  even 
human  despotism  Avith  awful  attributes,  Ijefore  which  they  cower  in  terror. 

A    A 


354  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Jesus,  however,  could  appciil  to  His  miraculous  i^owers  as  evideuccs  of 
His  Divine  mission,  and  often  did  so.  Their  vahic  lay  in  the  grandeur 
they  added  to  His  character.  Even  in  the  wilderness,  He  had  refused  to 
exert  them,  under  any  circumstances,  either  for  His  natural  wants,  or  for 
His  personal  ends,  and  He  adhered  to  this  amazing  self-restraint  through 
His  whole  career.  It  was  seen  from  tho  first,  that  His  awful  powers  were 
uniformly  beneficent ;  that  He  came,  not  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to 
save  them ;  that  He  used  omnipotence  to  bless,  but  never  to  hurt.  His 
words,  His  bearing,  and  His  looks  of  Divine  love  and  tenderness,  doubtless 
predisposed  men  to  expect  this,  and  His  uniform  course  soon  confirmed  it. 
They  saw  that  nothing  could  disturb  His  absolute  patience,  or  rouse  Him 
to  vindictiveness.  They  heard  Him  endure  meekly  the  most  contemp- 
tuous sneers,  the  bitterest  criticism,  and  the  most  rancorous  hostility.  No 
one  denied  His  miraculous  powers,  though  some  affected  to  call  them 
demoniac,  in  direct  contradiction  to  their  habitual  exercise  for  the  holiest 
ends.  But  they  were  so  invariably  devoted  to  the  good  of  others,  and  so 
entirely  held  in  restraint,  as  regarded  personal  ends,  that  men  gradually 
came  to  treat  Him  with  the  reckless  boldness  of  hatred,  notwithstanding 
such  awful  endowment. 

Round  one  so  transcendently  meek,  self-interest  found  no  motive  for 
gatherhig.  He  who  with  such  possibilities  would  do  nothing  for  Himself, 
could  not  bo  expected  to  do  more  for  the  personal  ends  of  others. 
Hypocrisy  had  nothing  to  gain  by  seeking  His  favour.  Only  sincerity 
found  Him  attractive.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  uncorrupted  and 
worthy,  this  characteristic  gave  Him  unlimited  moral  elevation.  ISTo 
more  sublime  sjDcctacle  can  be  conceived  than  boundless  power,  kept  in 
perfect  control,  for  ends  wholly  unselfish  and  noble.  Condescension  wins 
admiration  when  it  is  only  from  man  to  man ;  when  it  showed  itself  in 
veiled  Omnipotence,  ever  ready  to  bless  others,  but  never  used  on  its  own 
l)ehalf,  it  became  a  Divine  ideal.  Men  saw  Him  clothed  with  power  over 
disease,  and  even  over  death ;  able  to  cast  forth  spirits,  or  to  still  the  sea ; 
and  yet  accessible,  full  of  sympathy ;  the  lofty  patriot,  the  tender  friend, 
the  patient  counsellor;  shedding  tears,  at  times,  from  a  full  heart,  and 
ever  ready  with  a  wise  and  gentle  word  for  all ;  so  unaffected  and  gentle 
that  children  drew  round  Him  with  a  natural  instinct,  and  even  worldly 
hardness  and  vice  were  softened  before  Him ;  and  this  contrast  of  super- 
human power,  and  perfect  humility,  made  them  feel  that  He  was  indeed 
the  Head  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  amongst  men.  The  secret  of  His  amaz- 
ing success,  as  the  founder  of  a  now  religious  constitution  for  mankind, 
lay  in  the  recognition  of  this  perfect  sacrifice  of  One  so  immeasurably 
great,  culminating  in  "  the  death  of  the  cross."  It  was  the  jierfoct  reali- 
zation, in  Himself,  of  tho  life  He  urged  on  others.  It  implied  the  ideal 
fulfilment  of  all  human  duties,  and  no  less  so,  of  all  Divine ;  for  tho 
heavenly  love  which  alone  could  dictate  and  sustain  such  a  career,  was,  in 
itself,  the  most  perfect  transcript  of  the  nature  of  God.  A  life  in  which 
every  step  showed  kingly  grace  and  divinely  boundless  love,  condescend- 
ing to  the  lowliest  self-denial  for  the  good  of  man,  proclaimed  Him  the 
rightful  Head  of  tho  ]S^cw  Kni adorn  of  God. 


CAPERNAUM.  355 

The  ni<]jhfc  which  followed  this  bu.sy  aud  eventful  Sabbath  brought  no 
repose  to  His  body  or  mind.  Tlio  excitement  around  agitated  and  dis- 
turbed Him.  It  was  His  first  triumpbant  success ;  for,  in  the  south,  He 
had  met  with  little  sympathy,  though  He  had  attracted  crowds.  But 
curiosity  was  not  pi'ogress,  and  excitement  was  not  conversion.  Lowli- 
ness and  concealment,  not  noisy  throngs,  were  the  true  conditions  of  His 
work,  and  of  its  firmest  establishment  and  lasting  glory.  Mere  popularity 
was,  moreover,  a  renewed  temptation ;  for,  as  a  man.  He  was  susceptible 
of  the  same  seductions  as  His  brethren.  He  might  be  drawn  aside  to 
think  of  Himself,  and  to  His  holy  soul  the  faintest  approach  to  this  was 
a  surrender  to  evil.  Eising  from  His  couch,  therefore,  while  the  dee]i 
darkness  which  precedes  the  dawn  still  rested  on  hill  and  valley,  He  left 
the  house  so  quietly  tnat  no  one  heard  Him,  and  went,  once  more,  to  the 
solitudes  of  the  hills  behind  the  town.  Passing  through  groves  of  palms, 
and  orchards  of  fig  and  olive  trees,  intermixed  with  vineyards  and  grassy 
meadows,  with  their  tinkling  brooks,  so  delightful  in  the  East,  and  their 
unseen  glory  of  lilies  and  varied  flowers,  He  soon  reached  the  heights, 
amongst  which,  at  no  great  distance  from  the  town,  were  lonely  ravines 
where  He  could  enjoy  perfect  seclusion.  In  the  stillness  of  nature  He 
was  alone  with  His  Father,  and  far  from  the  temptations  which  troubled 
the  pure  simplicity  of  His  soul,  and  His  lowly  meekness  before  God  and 
man.  We  now  see  the  glory  of  the  path  He  chose ;  but  while  He  lived, 
even  His  disciples  would  have  planned  a  very  different  course.  Why  not 
take  advantage  of  the  excitement  of  the  people  to  rouse  the  whole  nation, 
as  John  had  done  ?  Was  not  His  miraculous  power  a  means  of  endless 
benefit  to  men,  and  should  it  not,  therefore,  be  made  the  great  feature  of 
His  work?  Vanity  would  have  suggested  plausible  grounds  for  using 
His  gifts  in  a  way,  that,  in  reality,  was  not  in  harmony  with  the  great  end 
of  His  mission.  But  His  soul  remained  unsullied,  like  the  stainless  light. 
He  came  to  do  the  will  of  His  Father,  and  nothing  could  make  Him  for  a 
moment  think  of  Himself.  In  lonely  communion  with  His  own  soul,  and 
earnest  prayer,  the  rising  breath  of  temptation  passed  once  more  away. 

Peter  and  Andrew,  discovering  His  absence,  when  they  awoke,  were  at 
a  loss  what  to  think.  More  sick  persons  were  gathering,  and  the  crowds 
of  yesterday  promised  to  be  larger  to-day.  Hasting  to  the  hills,  to  which 
they  rightly  supposed  He  had  retired,  and  having  at  last  found  Him,  they 
fancied  He  would  at  once  return  with  them,  on  hearing  that  the  whole 
people  were  seeking  Him.  But  He  had  a  wider  sphere  than  Capernaum, 
and  higher  duties  than  mere  bodily  healing.  "  I  have  not  come  to  heal 
the  sick,"  said  He,  "  but  to  announce  and  spread  the  Kingdom  of  God. 
All  I  do  is  subordinate  to  this.  Let  us,  therefore,  go  to  the  neighbouring 
towns,  for  I  must  preach  the  Kingdom  of  God  to  other  cities,  as  well  as  t*; 
Capernaum."  ISTor  would  He  be  persuaded  to  return  for  a  time,  though 
some  of  the  people  had  already  found  out  His  retreat,  and  joined  with  the 
disciples  in  begging  Him  to  do  so. 

The  circuit  now  begun  was  the  first  of  a  series,  in  which  Jesus  visited 
every  part  of  Galilee,  preaching  and  teaching  in  the  synagogue  of  each 
town  that  had  one,  and  often,  doubtless,  in  the  open  air.     It  wais  the  briglit 


356  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

and  sunny  time  of  the  year,  when  the  harvest  was  quickly  ripening.  The 
heat  was  ah-cady  oppressive  at  noon,  but  the  mornings  and  evenings  per- 
mitted more  easy  travelling.  It  was  a  season  of  intense  labour  for  the 
Saviour,  of  which  the  day's  work  in  Capernaum  was  only  a  sample.  The 
bounds  of  Galileo  embraced  the  many  villages  and  towns  of  the  Plain 
of  Esdraclon,  and  the  whole  of  tho  hilly  country  north  of  it,  almost  to 
Lebanon.  Day  by  day  brought  its  march  from  one  village  or  town  to 
others,  over  the  thirsty  limestone  uplands,  where  the  wanderer  thankfully 
received  the  cup  of  cold  water,  as  a  gift  to  be  recompensed  in  the  Kingdom 
of  God,  or  through  glowing  vineyards,  or  among  the  cornfields  whitening 
to  the  liarvcst,  or  falling  under  the  sickle  of  the  reaper.  "  Every  day," 
said  Jesus  to  His  disciples,  "  has  its  own  troubles ; "  for  weariness ; 
possibly,  at  times,  hunger ;  the  dependence  on  hospitality  for  shelter ;  the 
pressure  of  crowds  ;  the  stolid  indifference  of  too  many ;  the  idle  curiosity 
of  more ;  the  ever-present  misery  of  disease  in  all  its  forms  ;  and,  it  may 
be,  even  thus  early,  the  opposition  of  some,  must  have  borne  heavily  on  a 
nature  like  His.  The  news  of  His  miracles  had  spread  like  runuiug  fire 
through  the  whole  country,  and  attracted  crowds  from  all  parts.  Beyond 
Palestine,  on  the  north,  they  had  become  the  common  talk  of  Syria;  on 
the  east,  they  had  stirred  the  population  of  the  wide  district  of  the  Ten 
Cities,  and  of  Perea;  and,  on  the  south.  His  name  was  on  all  lips  in  Jeru- 
salem and  Ji;dea.  Erelong,  it  seemed  as  if  the  scenes  of  John's  preaching 
were  returning;  for  numbers  gathered  to  Him  from  all  these  parts,  and 
followed  Him,  day  by  day,  in  His  movements  through  the  land.  His 
progress  was,  indeed,  worthy  of  such  an  attendance,  for  no  king  ever 
celebrated  such  a  triumph.  Conquerors  returning  from  victory  over 
kingdoms  and  empires  had  led  columns  of  tremlaling  captives  in  their 
train.  Bnt,  at  every  resting-place,  a  sad  crowd  of  sufferers  from  all  dis- 
eases and  painful  affections,  and  of  demoniacs,  lunatics,  and  paralytics, 
was  gathered  in  the  path  of  Jesus,  and  He  healed  them  by  a  word  or  a 
touch.  Escorted  into  each  town  by  those  whom  He  had  thus  restored — 
the  lately  sick  and  dying  whom  He  had  instantaneously  cured — it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  whole  land  rang  with  the  story.  The  enemies  over  whom 
He  triumphed  were  pain,  and  sickness,  and  death,  and  the  rejoicings  that 
greeted  Him  were  shouts  of  gratitude  and  blessing  as  the  Prince  of  Life. 

Only  one  incident  of  this  wondrous  journey  is  recorded  at  any  length. 
In  one  of  the  cities  He  visited.  He  was  suddenly  met  by  a  man  "  full  of 
1  leprosy ; "  a  disease  at  all  times  terrible,  but  aggravated,  in  the  opinion 
of  that  day,  by  the  belief  that  it  was  a  direct  "  stroke  of  G-od,"  as  a  punish- 
ment for  special  sins.  It  began  with  little  specks  on  the  eyelids,  and  on 
the  palms  of  the  hand,  and  gradually  spread  over  different  parts  of  the 
body,  bleaching  the  hair  white  wherever  it  showed  itself,  crusting  the 
affected  pai-ts  with  shining  scales,  and  causing  swellings  and  sores.  From 
the  skin  it  slowly  ate  its  way  through  the  tissues,  to  the  bones  and  joints 
and  even  to  the  marrow,  rotting  the  whole  body  piecemeal.  Tho  lungs, 
the  organs  of  speech  and  hearing,  and  the  eyes  were  attacked  in  turn,  till, 
at  last,  consumjition  or  dropsy  brought  welcome  death.  Dread  of  infection 
kept  men  aloof  from  the  sufferer,  and  the  Law  proscribed  him,  as,  above 


CAPEENAUM.  357 

all  ineu,  unclean.  The  disease  was  hereditary  to  the  fourth  generation. 
No  one  thus  afflicted  could  remain  in  a  walled  town,  though  he  might  live  ^ 
in  a  village.  There  were  different  A"arieties  of  leprosy,  but  all  were 
dreaded  as  the  saddest  calamity  of  life.  The  leper  was  required  to  rend 
his  outer  garment,  to  go  bareheaded,  and  to  cover  his  mouth  so  as  to  hide 
his  beard,  as  was  done  in  lamentation  for  the  dead.  He  had,  further,  to 
waru  passers  by  away  from  him  bj'  the  crj^  of  "  Unclean,  unclean ; "  not 
without  the  thought  that  the  sound  would  call  forth  a  prayer  for  the 
sufferer,  and  less  from  the  fear  of  infection,  than  to  prevent  contact  with 
one  thus  visited  by  God,  and  unclean.  He  coidd  not  speak  to  any  one,  or 
receive  or  return  a  salutation.  In  the  lapse  of  ages,  however,  these  rules 
had  been  in  some  degree  relaxed.  A  leper  might  live  in  an  open  village, 
with  any  one  willing  to  receive  him  and  to  become  unclean  for  his  sake, 
and  he  might  enter  the  synagogue,  if  he  had  a  part  specially  partitioned 
off  for  himself,  and  was  the  first  to  enter  the  building,  and  the  last  to 
leave.  He  even  at  times  ventured  to  enter  a  town,  though  forbidden 
under  the  penalty  of  forty  stripes.  But  it  was  a  living  death,  in  the  slow 
advance  of  which  a  man  became  daily  more  loathsome  to  himself,  and  to 
his  dearest  friends.  "  These  four  are  counted  as  dead,"  says  the  Talmud, 
"  the  blind,  the  leper,  the  poor,  and  the  childless." 

The  news  of  the  wondrous  cures  wrought  on  so  many  had  reached  the 
unfortunate  man,  v.'ho  now  dared  the  Law,  to  make  his  way  to  the  Healer. 
Falling  at  His  feet  in  humble  reverence,  he  delighted  the  spirit  of  Jesus 
by,  perhaps,  the  first  open  confession  of  a  simple  and  lowly  faith—"  Lord, 
if  Thou  wilt.  Thou  canst  make  me  clean."  To  kneel  before  Him,  and 
address  Him  by  such  a  title,  was,  indeed,  only  what  he  would  have  done  to 
any  one  greatly  above  him ;  but  such  frank  belief  in  His  power,  and  im- 
plicit submission  to  His  will,  touched  the  tender  heart  of  Christ.  Moved 
with  compassion  for  the  unfortunate,  there  was  no  delay — a  touch  of  the 
hand,  and  the  words,  "  I  will :  be  thou  clean,"  and  he  rose,  a  leper  no 
longer.  To  have  touched  him,  was,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Jew,  to  have  made  I 
Himself  unclean,  but  He  had  come  to  break  through  the  deadly  externalisni  / 
that  had  taken  the  place  of  true  religion,  and  could  have  shown  no  more 
strikingly  how  He  looked  on  mere  Eabbinical  precej^ts  than  by  making  a 
touch  which,  till  then,  had  entailed  the  worst  uncleanness,  the  means  of 
cleansing.  Slight  though  it  seemed,  the  putting  the  hand  on  a  leper  was  1 
the  proclamation  that  .Judaism  was  abrogated  henceforth. 

The  popular  excitement  had  already  extended  widely,  and  a  cure  like 
this  was  certain  to  raise  it  still  higher.  With  the  Baptist  in  prison  on  a 
pretended  political  charge,  and  the  people  full  of  political  dreams  in  con- 
nection with  the  expected  Messiah,  all  that  might  fan  the  flame  was  to  be 
dreaded.  Excitement,  moreover,  was  unfavourable  to  the  great  work  of 
Christ.  He  needed  a  thoughtful  calm  in  the  mind,  for  lasting  effects. 
The  kingdom  of  God  which  He  proclaimed  was  no  mere  appeal  to  the 
feelings,  but  sought  the  understanding  and  heart.  Turning  to  the  ncAvly 
cured,  therefore,  He  counselled  him  earnestly  not  to  tell  any  one  what  had 
happened,  threatening  him  with  His  anger,  if  he  should  disobey.  "  Go  to 
Jerusalem,"  said  He,   "  and  show  yourself   to  the  priest,  and  make  the 


358  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

olferiugs  for  your  cleansing,  required  by  the  Law,  as  a  proof  to  your 
neighbours,  to  the  priests,  the  scribes,  and  the  people  at  large,  that  you 
are  really  clean." 

A  certificate  of  the  recovery  of  a  leper  could  only  be  given  at  Jerusalem, 
by  a  priest,  after  a  lengthened  examination  and  tedious  rites,  and,  no 
doubt,  these  were  duly  undergone  and  performed.  To  describe  them  will 
illustrate  the  "  bondage  "  of  the  ceremonial  law,  as  then  in  force.  With 
his  heart  full  of  the  first  joy  of  a  cure  so  amazing,  for  no  one  had  ever 
before  heard  of  the  recovery  of  a  man  "  full  of  leprosy,"  he  set  o£E  to  the 
Temple  for  the  requisite  papers  to  authorize  his  return,  once  more,  to  the 
roll  of  Israel.  A  tent  had  to  be  pitched  outside  the  city,  and  in  this  the 
jiriest  examined  the  leper,  cutting  off  all  his  hair  with  the  utmost  care,  for 
if  only  two  hairs  were  left,  the  ceremony  was  invalid.  Two  sparrows  had 
to  be  brought  at  this  first  stage  of  the  cleansing  ;  the  one,  to  be  killed  over 
a  small  earthen  pan  of  water,  into  which  its  blood  must  drop ;  the  other, 
after  being  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  its  mate, — a  cedar  twig,  to  which 
scarlet  wool  and  a  piece  of  hyssop  were  bound,  being  nsed  to  do  so, — was 
let  free  in  such  a  direction  that  it  should  fly  to  the  open  country.  After 
the  scrutiny  by  the  priest,  the  leper  put  on  clean  clothes,  and  carried  away 
to  a  running  stream  those  he  had  worn,  to  wash  them  thoroughly,  and  to 
cleanse  himself  by  a  bath.  He  could  now  go  into  the  city,  but  for  seven 
days  more  could  not  enter  his  own  house.  On  the  eighth  day  after,  he 
once  more  submitted  to  the  scissors  of  the  priest,  who  cut  off  whatever 
hair  might  have  grown  in  the  interval.  Then  followed  a  second  bath,  and 
now  he  had  only  carefully  to  avoid  any  defilement,  so  as  to  be  fit  to  attend 
in  the  Temple  next  morning,  and  complete  his  cleansing.  The  first  step 
in  this  final  purification  was  to  offer  three  lambs,  two  males  and  a  female, 
none  of  which  must  be  under  a  year  old.  Standing  at  the  outer  edge  of 
the  court  of  the  men,  which  he  was  not  yet  worthy  to  enter,  the  leper 
waited  the  longed-for  rites.  These  began  by  the  priest  taking  one  of  the 
male  lambs  destined  to  be  slain  as  an  atonement  for  the  leper,  and  leading 
it  to  each  point  of  the  compass  in  turn,  and  by  his  swinging  a  vessel  of  oil 
on  all  sides,  in  the  same  way,  as  if  to  offer  both  to  the  universally  present 
God.  He  then  led  the  lamb  to  the  leper,  who  laid  his  hands  on  its  head, 
and  gave  it  over  as  a  sacrifice  for  his  guilt,  which  he  now  confessed.  It 
was  forthwith  killed  at  the  north  side  of  the  altar,  two  priests  catching  its 
l)lood,  the  one  in  a  vessel,  the  other  in  his  hand.  The  first  now  sprinkled 
the  altar  with  the  blood,  while  the  other  went  to  the  leper  and  anointed  his 
ears,  his  right  thumb,  and  his  right  toe  with  it.  The  one  priest  then 
poured  some  oil  of  the  leper's  offering  into  the  left  hand  of  the  other,  who, 
in  his  turn,  dipped  his  finger  seven  times  into  the  oil  thus  held,  and 
sprinkled  it  as  often  towards  the  Holy  of  Holies.  Each  part  of  the  leper 
which  before  had  been  touched  with  the  blood,  was  then  further  anointed 
with  the  oil,  what  remained  being  poured  or  wiped  off  on  his  head. 

The  leper  could  now  enter  the  men's  court,  and  did  so,  passing  through 
it  to  that  of  the  priests.  The  female  lamb  was  next  killed  as  a  sin-offering, 
after  he  had  put  his  hands  on  its  head,  part  of  its  blood  being  smeared  on 
the  horns  of  the  altar,  while  the  rest  was  poured  out  at  the  altar  base. 


LIGHT   AND   DARKNESS.  359 

The  other  malo  laiiil)  was  then  slahi  for  a  Ijuriit  sacrifice  ;  the  leper  once 
more  layuig  liis  hands  on  its  head,  and  the  }3riest  sprinlding  its  blood  on 
the  altar.  The  fat,  and  all  that  was  fit  for  an  olfcring,  was  now  laid  on 
the  altar,  and  burned  as  a  "  sweet  smelling  savour "  to  Clod.  A  meat 
offering  of  fine  wheat  meal  and  oil  ended  tlie  whole  ;  a  portion  being  laid 
on  the  altar,  while  the  rest,  with  the  two  lambs,  of  which  only  a  small 
part  had  been  burned,  formed  the  dues  of  the  priest.  It  was  not  till  all 
this  had  been  done  that  the  full  ceremony  of  cleansing,  or  showing  himself 
to  the  priest,  had  been  carried  out,  and  that  the  cheering  words,  "  Thou 
art  jiure,"  restored  the  sufferer  once  more  to  the  rights  of  citizenship  and 
of  intercourse  with  his  follows.  No  wonder  that  even  a  man  like  St.  Peter, 
so  tenderly  minded  to  his  ancestral  religion,  should  speak  of  its  require- 
ments as  a  yoke  which  "  neither  our  fathers  nor  Ave  are  able  to  bear." 

Of  the  after-history  of  the  leper  thus  cleansed  we  are  not  informed.  It 
apjjears,  however,  that  his  joy  at  being  healed  was  too  great  to  be  repressed 
even  by  Christ's  grave  imposition  of  silence.  Tlie  multitudes  around 
Jesns  would  soon,  of  themselves,  spread  news  of  the  miracle,  but  the  cured 
man  widened  and  heightened  the  excitement  by  telling  everywhere,  on  his 
road  to  Jerusalem,  what  had  befallen  him.  The  result  was  that  Jesus 
could  no  longer  enter  a  town  or  city,  so  great  was  the  commotion  His 
presence  excited.  Nor  was  it  of  any  avail  that  He  retired  to  the  open 
country,  for  even  when  He  betook  Himself  to  the  upland  solitudes,  great 
multitudes  continually  sought  Him  out,  either  to  hear  His  words,  or  to  be 
healed  of  their  various  diseases. 

In  such  busy  and  exhausting  scenes  the  days  of  early  autumn  jiassed. 
But,  whatever  the  returning  toils  of  each  morning,  the  Saviour  still  craved 
and  secured  hours  of  lonely  calm,  for  wo  read  in  St.  Luke  that,  during  all 
these  weeks.  Ho  was  wont  to  withdraw,  doubtless  by  night,  into  lonely 
places  to  pray. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

LIGHT   AND   DARKNESS. 

THE  euro  of  the  leper  seems  to  have  resulted  in  Jesus  returning,  for 
a  time,  to  Capernaum.  He  had  acted  with  the  greatest  caution 
during  His  mission,  to  avoid  giving  offence,  and  thus  raising  opposition 
which  would  have  been  fatal,  at  the  very  opening  of  His  ministry.  From 
many  a  hill-top  on  His  journeyings.  He  and  His  disciples  had,  doubtless, 
often  looked  to  the  mountains  in  the  south-east,  amidst  which  John  lay,  a 
helpless  prisoner ;  and  they  must  have  felt  that  the  prince  who  had  thus 
cut  short  the  work  of  the  great  Reformer  might  be  readily  moved  to  the 
same  violence  towards  themselves.  Jesus  had,  therefore,  shunned  noto- 
riety; and  though  He  never  hesitated  to  accept  homage,  where  it  was 
sincere  and  spontaneous.  He  had  never  demanded  it,  and  had  kept  even 
His  miraculous  powers  in  strict  subordination  to  the  great  work  of  pro- 
claiming the  advent  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  The  appeals  of  pain  and 
misery  had,  indeed,  constrained  Him  to  relieve  them,  but  He  had  accom- 


360  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

pauied  His  miracles  by  a  strict  prohibition  of  their  being  made  more 
publicly  known  than  was  inevitable. 

In  spite  of  every  precaution,  however,  the  report  of  His  wonderful 
doings  spread  far  and  wide,  and  drew  ever  increasing  attention.  Political 
circles,  as  yet,  did  not  condescend  to  notice  Him,  but  He  was  already 
watched  by  the  sleepless  eyes  of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities.  It  was 
enough  that  He  acted  independently  of  them.  Not  to  be  with  them  was, 
in  tlieir  eyes,  to  be  against  them,  for  they  claimed,  as  the  spiritual  leaders 
of  the  nation,  the  sole  direction  of  its  religious  teaching.  The  more 
wonderful  His  works,  the  greater  their  excitement,  and  the  keener  their 
jealousy.  In  any  case,  therefore,  the  words  which  accompanied  such  ex- 
traordinary manifestations,  would  have  been  watched  with  the  closest 
scrutiny,  for  any  chance  of  vindicating  their  care  of  the  religious  interests 
entrusted  to  them.  In  an  age  of  such  rigid  literalism  and  unchanging 
conservatism,  no  teacher  with  the  least  individuality  of  thought  or  ex- 
pression could  hope  to  escape,  where  the  determination  to  condemn  was 
already  fixed.  Far  less  Avas  it  possible  for  one  like  Jesus — so  sincei-o 
amidst  general  insincerity,  so  intense  and  real  amidst  what  was  hollow  and 
outward,  so  pure  and  elevated  amidst  what  was  gross  and  worldly,  so 
tenderly  human  amidst  what  was  harsh  and  exclusive — to  avoid  giving 
pretext  for  censure.  The  priests  and  Eabbis  through  the  whole  land  felt 
instinctively  that  their  influence  was  imperilled  by  His  liglitest  word. 
They  already  were  coldly  suspicious.  The  next  step  would  be  to  blame, 
and  they  would  seek,  before  long,  to  destroy  Him ;  for  it  has,  in  all  ages, 
been  the  sad  characteristic  of  the  leaders  of  dominant  religious  parties,  to 
confound  the  gratification  of  the  worst  passions  with  loyalty  to  their 
office. 

Perhaps  Jesus  had  hoped  that  in  Capernaum,  at  least.  He  would  find  an 
hiterval  of  repose,  for  His  absence  might  have  been  expected  to  have 
allayed  the  excitement.  No  spot  in  Palestine  seemed  less  likely  to  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  hostility  of  the  schools.  In  Jerusalem  men  looked  back  to 
a  past  dating  from  Melchisedek,  and  were  its  slaves ;  but  Capernaum  was 
so  new  that  its  name  does  not  occur  at  all  in  the  Old  Testament.  He  soon 
found,  however,  that  the  dark  and  hateful  genius  of  Eabbinism,  with  its 
puerile  customs  and  formulas,  and  its  fierce  bigotry,  was  abroad  through 
the  whole  land. 

It  was  vain  to  expect  that  a  "  city  set  on  a  hill  "  could  be  hidden.  He 
had  scarcely  re-entered  the  town  before  it  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth  that 
He  had  returned  and  was  at  home.  Crowds  joresently  gathered,  and  filled 
not  only  the  house,  but  the  space  before  it.  There  was  to  he  no  rest  for 
the  Son  of  Man  till  He  found  it  in  the  garden  gi'ave  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea. 
The  applause,  the  gaping  wonder,  the  huge  concourse  of  people,  were  only 
a  grief  to  Him.  He  had  broken  away  from  them  before,  and  sought  refuge 
from  the  temptations  they  tended  to  excite,  in  lonely  prayer  by  night,  on 
the  neighbouring  hills,  under  the  pure  and  silent  stars.  They  had 
followed  Him  on  His  journey  from  town  to  town,  and  now,  on  His  return 
to  Capernaum,  the  clamour  of  voices,  and  the  pressure  of  throngs,  beset 
Him  more  than  ever.     Had  anxiety  to  hear  the  truths  of  the  new  spiritual 


LIGHT   AND   DAEKNESS.  361 

kingdom  caused  this  excitement  it  would  have  been  healthy,  but  it  had 
been  already  shown  only  too  clearly  that,  while  men  believed  in  His  power 
to  heal,  they  cared  little  for  His  higher  claims.  Eegret  for  bodily  illness, 
or  ready  sympathy  with  the  sufferers,  simply  as  under  physical  trouble, 
were  evidently  the  only  thought,  to  the  exclusion  of  any  sense  of  graver 
spiritual  disease  in  all  alike.  The  very  maladies  often  revealed  moral 
impurity  as  their  cause ;  and  the  selfish  struggle  for  His  favour,  and  the 
too  frequent  ingratitude  of  the  cured,  saddened  His  soul.  Of  the  multi- 
tudes whom  He  had  healed,  most  had  disappeared,  without  any  signs  of 
having  heeded  His  appeals  and  warnings.  Even  the  leper,  who  had  at 
least  promised  silence,  was  hardly  out  of  His  presence  before  he  forgot  his 
pledge.  He  was  already  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  but  Divine  compassion  still 
urged  Him  to  heal. 

To  make  the  trial  greater,  it  was  evident  that  mischief  was  brewing. 
Tlie  Rabbis  were  astir.  They  had  heard  of  the  multitudes  attracted  from 
the  other  side  of  the  Jordan  on  the  east,  from  as  far  as  Jerusalem  and 
even  Idumea  on  the  south,  and  from  Phenicia  on  the  north,  and  had 
followed  the  crowds,  and  gathered  in  Capernaum  from  every  town  of 
Galilee  and  Judea,  and  from  Jerusalem  itself,  to  hear  and  see  the  new 
wonder.  Sensitive  in  their  own  interest,  they  came  with  no  friendly 
motive,  but  cold  aiid  hostile,  to  criticize  and,  if  possible,  to  condemn. 

Even  in  Galilee  the  influence  of  the  order  was  great.  It  had  done  im- 
mense service  to  the  nation  in  earlier  days,  in  kindling  an  intense  feeling 
of  nationality,  and  an  enthusiasm,  for  their  faith,  at  first  healthy  and 
beneficial,  though  now  perverted.  The  Rabbis  were  the  heads  of  the 
nation  in  the  widest  sense,  for  the  religion  of  the  i^eople  was  also  their 
politics.  They  were  the  theologians,  the  jurists,  the  legislators,  the 
politicians,  and,  indeed,  the  soul  of  Israel.  The  priests  had  sunk  to  a 
subordinate  place  in  the  public  regard.  The  veneration  which  the  people 
felt  for  their  Law  was  willingly  extended  to  its  teachers.  They  were 
greeted  reverently  in  the  street  and  in  the  mai'ket-place,  men  rising  up 
before  them  as  they  passed ;  the  title  of  Rabbi  was  universally  accorded 
them;  the  front  seats  of  the  synagogues  were  set  apart  for  them,  and 
they  took  the  place  of  honour  at  all  family  rejoicings,  that  they  might 
discourse  incidentally  to  the  company  on  the  Law.  Wise  in  their  gener- 
ation, they  fostered  this  homage  by  external  aids.  Their  long  robes,  their 
broad  phylacteries  or  prayer  fillets,  on  their  forehead  and  arm,  and  theii' 
conspicuous  Tallithin,  with  the  sacred  tassels  dangling  from  each  corner, 
were  part  of  themselves,  without  which  they  were  never  seen.  The  people 
gloried  in  them  as  the  croAvn  of  Israel,  and  its  distinguishing  honour 
above  all  other  nations.  "  Learn  where  is  wisdom,"  says  Baruch,  "where 
is  strength,  where  is  understanding.  It  has  not  been  heard  of  in  Canaan, 
nor  seen  in  Teman.  The  Hagarenes  seek  wisdom,  and  the  traders  of 
Meran  and  Teman,  and  the  poets  and  philosophers,  but  they  have  not 
found  out  the  way  of  wisdom,  or  discovered  her  path.  God  has  found  out 
the  whole  way  of  wisdom,  and  hath  given  it  to  His  servant  Jacob,  and  to 
Israel,  His  beloved."  Jerusalem  was,  naturally,  while  the  Temple  worship 
continued,  the  liead-quarters  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Rabbis,  but  they  were 


362  THE    LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

found  in  all  the  synagogue  towns  both  of  Judea  and  Galilee.  They  formed 
the  members  of  the  local  ecclesiastical  and  criminal  courts,  over  the 
country,  and  at  Jerusalem  virtually  controlled  the  authorities,  and  thus 
framed  the  religious  and  general  lav/  for  the  nation  at  large,  so  far  as 
allowed  by  the  Romans.  Their  activity  never  rested.  Whether  as  guests 
from  the  Holy  City,  or  as  residents,  they  pervaded  the  land,  visiting  every 
school  and  synagogue,  to  extend  their  influence  by  teaching  and  exhorta- 
tions. A  Rabbi,  indeed,  could  move  from  place  to  ]:)lace  with  little  trouble, 
for,  in  most  cases,  he  lived  by  trade  or  handicraft,  and  could  thus  unite  busi- 
ness and  religion  in  his  missionary  journeys.  Their  ceaseless  circuits 
are  painted  in  the  Targum  on  Deborah's  song.  It  makes  the  prophetess  say 
— "  I  am  sent  to  praise  the  Scribes  of  Israel,  who  ceased  not,  in  the  evil 
times,  to  expound  the  Law.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  how  they  sat  in  the 
sjaiagogues  and  taught  the  people  the  words  of  the  Law  ;  how  they  uttered 
the  blessings  and  confessed  the  trnth  before  God.  They  neglected  their 
own  affairs,  and  rode  on  asses  round  the  whole  land,  and  sat  for  judg- 
ment." The  paraphrase  is  an  anachronism  when  applied  to  the  age  of  the 
Judges,  but  it  vividly  illustrates  Rabbhiical  zeal  in  the  days  of  Christ. 

Soon  after  His  return  to  Capernaum,  an  incident  occurred  which  led  to 
the  first  open  difference  between  Jesus  and  this  all-powerful  order.  The 
crowds  had  gathered  in  such  numbers  at  Peter's  house,  that  not  only  the 
house  itself,  but  the  sjoace  before  it,  was  once  more  full.  Among  the 
audience  were  Scril^c-s  from  all  parts,  to  see  if  they  should  unite  with  the 
new  movement  and  turn  it  to  their  own  purposes,  or  take  measures 
against  it.  If  we  may  judge  from  the  ruins  on  the  site  of  the  town,  the 
house  was  only  a  single  very  low  storey  high,  with  a  flat  roof,  reached  by 
a  stairway  from  the  yard  or  court,  and  Jesus  may  have  stood  near  the 
door  in  such  a  position  as  to  be  able  to  address  the  crowd  outside,  as  well 
as  those  in  the  chamber.  Possibly,  however,  there  were  two  storeys  in 
this  particular  house,  as  there  must  have  been  in  some  in  the  town,  and  in 
that  case  the  upper  one  would  probably  be  a  large  room —  the  "  upper" 
and  best  chamber — such  as  was  often  used  elsewhere  by  the  Rabbis,  for 
reading  and  expounding  the  Law  to  their  disciples,  and  Jesus  may  have 
stood  near  the  open  window,  so  as  to  be  heard  both  oiitside  and  within. 

Prom  some  favourable  spot  He  was  addressing  the  thickly  crowded 
audience  respecting  the  kingdom  of  God,  so  long  prophesied,  and  now  at 
last  in  their  midst,  when  four  men  approached  bearing  a  sick  person,  on  a 
hammock  shmg  between  them.  It  proved  to  be  a  man  entirely  paralyzed. 
Unable  to  make  their  way  through  the  throng,  the  bearers  went  round  the 
house  to  see  what  should  be  done.  They  had  perhaps  come  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  were  thus  too  late  to  get  at  once  near  the  great  Healer.  The 
outside  stairs  to  the  roof,  however,  offered  them  a  solution  of  their  difii- 
culty.  The  sick  man  was  bent  on  getting  to  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  willingly 
let  them  take  him  to  the  house-top,  which  they  were  able  to  do  by  fasten- 
ing cords  to  the  hammock,  and  pulling  it  up,  after  they  theiuselves  had 
got  lip  to  it  by  the  narrow  and  ladder-like  steps. 

Their  trembling  burden  once  safely  on  the  roof,  the  rest  was  easy. 
Eastern  houses  are,  in  many  ways,  very  different  from  ours,  but  in  none 


LIGHT   AND   DARKNESS.  363 

more  strikingly  than  in  the  lightness  of  the  roof.  Eafters  arc  laid  on 
the  top  of  tho  sicic  T\'alls,  about  tlireo  feet  apart,  and  on  these  short 
sticks  are  put,  till  the  whole  space  is  covered.  Over  tliese,  again,  a  thick 
coating  of  brnslnvood,  or  of  some  common  bush,  is  spread.  A  coat  of 
mortar  comes  next,  burying  and  levelling  all  beneath  it,  and  on  this  again, 
is  sjoread  marl  or  earth,  which  is  rolled  flat  and  hard.  Many  roofs,  indeed, 
are  much  slighter — earth  closely  rolled  or  beaten  down,  perhaps  mixed 
with  ashes,  lime,  and  chopped  straw,  being  all  the  owners  can  afford — and 
thus,  even  at  this  day,  it  is  common  to  see  grass  growing  on  the  house-top 
after  the  rains,  and  repairs  of  cracks  made  by  the  sun's  rays  are  often 
needed  in  the  hot  season,  to  prevent  heavy  leakage.  It  is  thus  easy  to 
break  up  a  roof  when  necessary,  and  it  is  often  done.  The  earth  is  merely 
sci'aped  back  from  a  part,  and  the  thorns  and  short  sticks  removed,  till  an 
opening  of  the  required  size  is  made. 

Through  some  such  simple  roofing  the  four  bearers  now  opened  a  space 
large  enough  to  let  down  the  sick  man  into  the  chamber  where  Jesus 
stood.  Cords  tied  to  the  couch  made  the  rest  easy,  and  the  paralytic  was 
presently  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  He  lay  there,  the  living  dead,  but  his  out. 
ward  troubles  were  not  his  greatest.  Looking  on  his  calamity  as  a  punish- 
ment from  God  for  past  sins — perhaps  feeling  that  it  had  been  brought 
upon  him  by  a  vicious  life — he  was  even  more  sorely  stricken  in  spirit  than 
in  body.  !N"o  one,  he  felt,  could  help  him  but  He  to  reach  whom  had  been 
his  deepest  wish.  To  be  healed  within,  was  even  more  with  him  than  to 
be  restored  to  outward  health.  He  had  nothing  to  say ;  perhaps  he  could 
not  speak,  for  palsy  often  hinders  articulation.  But  his  eyes  told  his 
whole  story,  and  Ho  before  whom  he  had  tluxs  strangely  come,  read  it  at  a 
glance.  He  was  still  a  young  man,  which  in  itself  awakened  sympathj^ ; 
but  he  had,  besides,  in  his  anxiety  to  get  near,  by  whatever  means,  and  the 
humility  which  sought  cleansing  from  guilt  more  than  restoration  to 
health,  shown  a  recognition  of  Christ's  higher  dignity  as  the  dispenser  of 
spiritual  blessings.  With  an  endearing  word  used  by  teachers  to  disciples, 
or  by  superiors  in  age  or  rank,  Jesus  flashed  the  light  of  hope  on  his 
troubled  spirit.     "  My  child,"  said  He,  "  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee." 

It  was  a  wondrous  utterance,  and  must  have  sounded  still  more 
strangely,  when  thus  first  heard,  than  to  us,  who  have  been  familiar  with 
it  from  childhood.  No  one  had  ever  heard  Him  admit,  even  by  a  passing 
word.  His  own  sinfulness;  He  showed  no  humility  before  God  as  a  sinner; 
never  sought  pardon  at  His  hands.  Yet  no  Rabbi  approached  Him  in  op- 
position to  all  that  was  Vv^rong,  for  He  went  even  bej^ond  the  act  to  the 
sinful  desire.  The  standard  He  demanded  was  no  less  than  the  awful 
perfection  of  God.  But  those  around  heard  Him  now  rise  above  any  mere 
tacit  assumption  of  this  sinless  purity  by  His  setting  Himself  in  open 
contrast  to  sinners,  in  the  claim  not  only  to  announce  the  forgiveness  of 
sins  by  God,  but,  Himself,  to  dispense  it.  He  pardons  the  sins  of  the  re- 
pentant creature  before  Him,  on  His  own  authority,  as  a  King,  which  it 
would  be  contradictory  to  have  done  had  He  Himself  been  conscious  of 
having  sin  and  guilt  of  His  own.  It  was  clear  that  He  could  have  ven- 
tured on  no  such  assumption  of  the  prerogative  of  God,  had  He  not  felt  in 


364  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Himself  an  absolute  harmony  of  spiritual  nature  witli  Him,  so  that  Ho 
only  littered  what  He  knew  was  the  Divine  will.  It  was  at  once  a  procla- 
mation of  His  own  siiilessness,  and  of  His  kingly  dignity  as  the  Messiah, 
in  whose  hands  had  been  placed  the  rule  over  the  new  theocracy. 

The  Eabbis  felt,  in  a  moment,  all  that  such  words  implied.  Their  only 
idea  of  a  religious  teacher  was  that  he  should  never  venture  a  word  on  his 
own  authority,  but  slavishly  follow  other  earlier  Eabbis.  They  had  all 
the  conservatism  of  lawyers.  One  Beth-din  could  not  put  aside  the  de- 
cision of  another,  unless  it  was  superior  in  wisdom  and  numbers,  and  how 
little  likely  it  was  that,  even  in  such  a  case,  any  decision  should  be  super- 
seded, may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  for  any  one  to  dispute  with  a 
Eabbi  or  murmur  against  him,  or  to  hesitate  in  accepting  and  obeying  his 
every  word,  was  no  less  a  crime  than  to  do  the  same  towards  God  Himself. 
Even  the  people  had  caught  the  spirit  of  changeless  conservatism  from 
their  teachers,  for,  when  John  Hyrcanus,  with  a  kindly  view  to  relieve 
them  from  an  almost  intolerable  burden,  ventured  to  prohibit  some  trifling 
Eabbinical  rules  of  the  Pharisees,  his  well-meant  liberality,  instead  of 
gaining  him  favour,  excited  hatred  against  liim  as  an  intruder  and  inno- 
vator. The  type  of  a  strict  Eabbi  found  its  ideal  in  Schammai,  the  rival 
of  Hillel,  the  founder  of  the  school  which  was  most  bitter  against  Jesus. 
It  was  not  enough  that  he  sought  to  make  even  young  children  fast 
through  the  whole  Day  of  Atonement :  during  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  he 
had  the  roof  taken  from  the  room  in  which  lay  his  daughter-in-law  and 
her  new-born  son,  to  have  a  tent  raised  over  them,  that  the  baby  might  be 
aljle  to  keep  the  feast. 

The  lofty  words  of  Jesus  at  once  caught  the  ears  of  the  lawyers,  on  the 
watch.  They  sounded  new,  and  to  be  new  was  to  be  dangerous.  Nothing 
in  Judaism  had  been  left  unfixed :  every  religious  act,  and  indeed,  eveiy 
act  whatever,  must  follow  minutely  prescribed  rules.  The  Law  knew  no 
such  form  as  an  official  forgiving  of  sins,  or  absolution.  The  leper  might 
be  pronounced  clean  by  the  priest,  and  a  transgressor  might  present  a  sin- 
offering  at  the  Temple,  and  transfer  his  guilt  to  it,  by  laying  his  hands  on 
its  head  and  owning  his  fault  before  God, — and  the  blood  sprinkled  by  the 
priest  on  the  horns  of  the  altar,  and  towards  the  Holy  of  Holies,  was  an 
atonement  that  "  covered  "  his  sins  from  the  eyes  of  Jehovah,  and  pledged 
his  forgiveness.  But  that  forgiveness  was  the  direct  act  of  God ;  no 
human  lips  dared  pronounce  it.  It  was  a  special  prerogative  of  the 
Almighty,  and  even  should  mortal  man  venture  to  declare  it,  he  could 
only  do  so  in  the  name  of  Jehovah,  and  by  His  immediate  authorisation. 
But  Jesus  had  s])oken  in  His  own  name.  He  had  not  hinted  at  being  em- 
powered by  God  to  act  for  Him.  The  Scribes  were  greatly  excited ; 
whispers,  ominous  head-shakings,  dark  looks,  and  pious  gesticulations  of 
alarm,  showed  that  they  were  ill  at  ease.  "  He  should  have  sent  him  to 
the  priest  to  present  his  sin-offering,  and  have  it  accepted;  it  is  blas- 
phemy to  speak  of  forgiving  sins  ;  He  is  intruding  on  the  Divine  rights." 
The  blasphemer  ^vas  to  be  put  to  death  by  stoning,  his  body  hung  on  a 
tree,  and  then  buried  with  shame.     "  Who  can  forgive  sins  but  one  God  ?  " 

It  was  the  turning  point  in  tlio  life  of  Jesus ;  for  the  accusation  of 


LIGHT    AND    DARKNESS.  365 

blasj)hemy,  now  muttered  in  tlic  lieails  of  the  llabbis  present,  was  the 
beginning  of  tlie  process  whicli  ended,  after  a  time,  on  Calvary;  and  He 
knew  it.  The  genius  of  Kabbinism  was  in  direct  antagonism  to  that  of 
His  "new  teaching."  Christ  required  a  change  of  heart,  the  Eabbis, 
instruction;  He  looked  at  the  motive  of  an  act,  they  at  its  strict  accord- 
ance to  legal  forms  ;  He  contented  Himself  v/ith  implanting  a  principle 
of  pure  and  loving  obedience  in  the  breast,  which  should  make  men  a  law 
to  themselves,  tlicy  taught  that  every  detail  of  religions  observance,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave — to  the  very  smallest — should  be  prescribed,  and 
rigidly  followed  in  every  formal  particular.  He  promised  the  Divine 
Spirit  to  aid  His  followers  to  a  perfect  obedience ;  the  Eabbis  enforced 
obedience  by  the  terrors  of  the  Church  courts,  which  they  controlled. 
Resting  thus  on  wholly  different  conceptions — the  Eabbi,  self-satisfied 
in  the  observance  of  external  rites  and  requirements ;  Jesus  repudiating 
merit,  and  basing  His  kingdom  on  the  willing  service  of  humble  and 
gi'ateful  love — the  only  question  was,  how  long,  in  an  intolerant  theocracy, 
active  hostility  might  be  averted.  The  lowly,  wandering  Galilasan  teacher, 
who  despised  long  robes  and  phylacteries,  and  associated  with  the  rude 
and  ignoratit,  from  whom  the  Eabbis  shrank  as  accursed  for  not  knowing 
the  Eabbinical  law ;  who  had  no  licence  as  teacher  from  any  Beth-din ; 
who  had  attended  no  Beth-ha-Midrash,  or  Eabbis'  School  of  the  Law,  and 
was  thus  a  mere  untrained  layman,  usurping  clerical  functions,  w'as 
instinctively  suspected  and  hated,  though  they  could  not  affect  to  despise 
Him.  The  kingdom  of  God  which  He  preached  was,  moreover,  something 
new  and  irregular.  In  the  words  of  Baruch,  they  expected  that  all  who 
kept  the  Law  in  their  sense,  would,  in  return,  have  eternal  life  as  a  right, 
as,  indeed,  one  of  their  proverbs  plainly  put  it — "He  who  buys  the  words 
of  the  Law,  buys  everlasting  life."  Esteeming  themselves  blamelessly 
righteous,  they  not  only  despised  others,  but  claimed  Heaven,  as  the 
special  favourites  of  God.  It  must,  therefore,  have  been  galling  in  the 
extreme,  to  hear  Jesus  demand  humility  and  repentance  and  faith  in 
Himself,  as  the  universal  conditions  of  entrance  into  the  new  kingdom  of 
God ;  to  be  confounded  with  the  crowd,  on  whom  they  looked  as  Brahmins 
on  Sudras ;  and  to  be  stripped  of  their  boasting,  and  even  of  their  hopes 
of  future  political  glory,  by  the  proclamation  of  a  new  and  purely  spiritual 
theocracy,  in  the  place  of  the  national  restoration  of  whicli  they  dreamed, 
with  themselves  at  its  head.  Only  a  spark  was  wanting  to  set  their 
hostility  ablaze,  and  this  had  now  been  supplied. 

For  the  time  they  were  helpless  in  the  presence  of  so  much  enthusiasm 
for  Jesus,  but  this  only  increased  their  bitterness,  on  their  finding  that 
He  had  kept  His  eyes  on  them,  and  knew  their  thoughts.  They  were  now 
still  more  confused  by  His  openly  asking  them,  "  Why  they  were  thinking 
evil  in  their  hearts?"  He  had  long  felt  that  He  could  not  hope  to  make 
any  healthy  impression  on  a  class  who  affected  to  regard  Him  as  half 
beside  Himself  on  religious  matters,  and  as  one  who  had  set  Himself  up 
as  a  Rabbi,  and  excited  the  jjeople  against  their  teachers.  He  knew  that 
they  put  the  worst  construction  on  all  He  said,  and  were  laying  up  matter 
for  future  open  attack.     But  no  passing  thought  of  fear  disturbed  Him. 


366  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

He  liad  come  to  witness  to  the  trutli,  and  at  once  accepted  the  challenge 
which  their  hostile  looks  and  bearing  implied.  Withont  waiting  to  he 
assailed,  He  snddcnly  asked  them,  "Which  is  easier?  To  say  to  this 
paralytic,  Thy  sins  are  forgiven,  or  to  say,  Eise,  and  take  up  thy  bed  and 
go  ?  "  There  might  be  deception  about  the  forgiveness,  for  no  one  could 
tell  if  the  absolution  were  of  any  avail,  but  there  could  be  none  respecting 
the  cure  of  a  helpless  living  corpse.  Turning  to  the  bed  without  waiting 
an  answer.  He  continued— in  irresistible  self- vindication— "  That  ye  may 
know  that  the  Son  of  Man  has  authority  on  the  earth  to  forgive  sins,— 
Eise,  poor  man,  take  up  the  mat  on  which  you  have  been  lying,  and  go 
home."  It  was  enough;  sensibility  and  power  of  motion  returned  to  the 
helpless  limbs;  muscles  and  nerves  lost  their  torpor;  strength  poured 
once  more  through  the  veins.  Slov\dy,  scarce  realizing  what  it  meant,  he 
rose,  little  by  little,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  Deliverer,  till,  at  last,  he  stood 
erect  before  Him,  to  sink  at  His  knees  again  in  grateful  adoration.  But 
he  could  not  be  allowed  to  stay.  Stepping  back,  without  saying  a  word, 
Jesus,  by  a  look,  motioned  him  to  retire,  and  lifting  the  mat,  he  did  so, 
his  eyes  still  fixed  on  his  Helper,  as  he  made  his  way  backward  througli 
the  awe-stricken  crowd. 

The  effect  was  electric.  The  Scribes  were,  for  the  time,  discomfited. 
Amazement  and  fear  mingled  with  religious  awe.  "We  never  saw  ifc 
thus,"  cried  some,  while  others,  with  true  Easteim  demonstrativeness, 
broke  out  iuto  praise  of  God  who  had  given  such  power  to  men.  Mean- 
while, Jesus  glided  out  of  the  apartment,  sad  at  heart,  for  the  shadow  of 
the  cross  had  fallen  on  His  soul. 

A  number  of  disciples  must,  by  this  time,  have  been  gained  in  different 
parts,  but  the  inner  circle  gathered  by  Jesus  as  His  personal  followers, 
was  as  yet  limited  to  the  few  whom  He  had  first  "  called."  Another  was, 
now,  however,  to  be  added  to  their  number.  Capernaum,  as  a  busy  trading 
town,  on  the  marches  between  the  dominions  of  Philip  and  tliose  of 
Antipas,  and,  fi'om  its  being  on  the  high  road  between  Damascus  and 
Ptolemais,  had  a  strong  staff  of  custom-house  officers,  or  publicans,  to  use 
the  common  name.  The  traflic  landed  at  Capernaum  from  across  the  lake, 
or  shi^iped  from  it,  had  to  pay  dues,  and  so  had  all  that  entered  or  left  the 
town  in  other  directions.  There  were  tolls  on  the  highways  and  on  the 
bridges,  and  at  each  place  the  humbler  grades  of  publicans  were  required, 
wliile  a  few  of  a  higher  rank  had  charge  of  the  aggregate  receipts  of  the 
minor  offices  of  the  district.  These  officials  were  often  freedmen,  or  even 
slaves  of  the  larger  farmers  of  the  local  imposts  ;  sometimes  natives  of  the 
part,  and  even  poor  Eoman  citizens.  The  whole  class,  however,  had  a  bad 
name  for  greed  and  exaction.  So  loud,  indeed,  and  serious,  did  the  remon- 
strances of  the  whole  Eoman  world  become,  at  the  tyranny  and  plunder- 
ings  thus  suffered,  that,  a  generation  later,  ISTero  proposed  to  the  Senate 
to  do  away  with  taxes  altogether,  though  the  idea  resulted  only  in  an 
official  admission  that  the  "greed  of  the  publicans  must  be  repressed,  lest 
they  should  at  hist,  by  new  vexations,  render  the  ^aublic  burdens  intoler- 
able." Tlic  underlings,  especially,  sought  to  enrich  themselves  by  grinding 
the  people ;  and  the  checks  they  caused  to  commerce,  the  trouble  they 


LIGHT   AND   DARKNESS.  367 

gave  by  reckless  cxainiuatiou  of  goods  and  by  tedious  delays,  by  false 
cutries  and  illegal  duties,  made  tlicm  intc;isely  hated.  "  Bears  and  lions," 
said  a  proverb,  "  niiglit  be  the  fiercest  wild  beasts  iu  the  forests,  but 
i:)ublicans  and  informers  were  the  worst  iu  the  cities."  The  Jews,  who 
bore  the  Roman  yoke  with  more  impatience  than  any  other  nation,  and 
shunned  all  contact  with  foreigners,  excommunicated  every  Israelite  who 
became  a  joublican,  and  declared  him  incompetent  to  bear  witness  in  their 
courts,  and  the  disgrace  extended  to  his  whole  family.  Nobody  was 
allowed  to  take  alms  from  one,  or  to  ask  him  to  change  money  for  them. 
They  were  even  classed  with  highway  robbers  and  murderers,  or  with 
harlots,  heathen,  a:id  sinners.  No  strict  Jew  would  eat,  or  even  hold 
intercourse  with  them. 

With  a  supreme  indifference  to  the  prejudices  of  the  day,  Jesus  resolved 
to  receive  one  of  this  proscribed  order  into  the  chosen  group  of  His  fol- 
lowoi's.  With  a  wide  and  generous  charity,  He  refused  to  condemn  a 
whole  class.  That  they  were  outcasts  from  society  was  a  special  reason 
why  He,  the  Son  of  Man,  should  seek  to  win  them  to  a  better  life.  He 
refused  to  admit  anything  wrong  in  paying  tribute  to  Cassar,  and  hence 
saw  no  sin  in  its  collection.  There  was  no  necessity  for  a  publican  not 
being  just  and  faithful,  alike  to  the  people  and  to  the  State,  and  He  had 
seen  for  Himself  that  there  were  some  aoiainst  whom  nothin^r  could  be 
justly  urged.  It  Avas,  moreover,  a  fundamental  principle  with  Him,  that 
the  worst  of  men,  if  they  sincerely  repented,  and  turned  to  God,  should  be 
gladly  received,  as  prodigal  sons  who  sought  to  regain  the  favour  of  their 
Father  in  heaven.  He  had  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost, 
and  He  sought  to  proclaim  to  ma^nkiud  that  He  despaired  of  none,  by 
recognising,  in  the  most  hopeless,  the  possibility  of  good.  Looking  abroad 
on  the  world  with  a  Divine  love  and  compassion  that  knew  no  distinction 
of  race  or  calling,  He  designed  to  show,  at  its  very  birth,  that  the  Kingdom 
He  came  to  establish  was  open  to  all  humanity,  and  that  the  only  con- 
dition of  citizenship  was  spiritual  fitness. 

Among  the  staff  of  publicans  employed  in  collecting  duties  at  Cajjer- 
naum,  vras  one  whom  his  name,  Levi,  marked  as  belonging  to  the  old 
]n'iestly  tribe,  though,  perhaps,  born  in  Galilee,  and  now  sunk  to  so  ques- 
tionable a  position.  He  had  another  name,  Matthew,  however,  by  which 
he  is  better  known  as  one  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  author  of  the  first 
Gospel.  His  business  was  to  examine  the  goods  passing  either  way  on 
the  great  high  road  between  the  territories  of  the  two  neighbouring 
tetrarchs,  to  enter  them  on  the  official  record,  to  receive  the  duties  and 
credit  them  in  his  books,  in  order,  finally,  to  pay  over  the  gross  proceed? 
at  given  times,  to  the  local  tax-farmer.  He  seems  to  have  been  in  com 
fortable  circumstances,  and  it  is,  perhaps,  due  to  his  clerkly  habits  as  a 
publican,  that  we  owe  to  him  the  earliest  of  the  Gospels.  He  was  the  son 
of  one  Alphcus,  the  name  of  the  father  of  James  the  Less.  They  may, 
however,  have  been  different  persons,  as  the  name  was  a  very  common 
one ;  and  we  know  that  there  were  two  Judes,  two  Simons,  and  two  called 
James,  in  the  little  band  round  Jesus. 

Doubtless  Levi,  or  Matthew,  had  shovv^n  an  interest  in  the  mgw  Teacher, 


/ 


368  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

and  had  been  among  tlic  crowds  that  thronged  Him.  The  quick  eye  of 
Jesus  had  read  his  heart,  and  seen  his  sincerity.  Though  a  pubhcan,  he 
was  a  Jew,  and  showed  repentance  and  hopeful  trust,  which  made  hira  a 
true  son  of  Abraham.  Tlie  booth  in  which,  in  Oriental  fashion,  he  sat  at 
his  duties,  was  at  the  harbour  of  the  town,  on  the  Avay  to  the  shore  where 
Jesus  was  in  the  habit  of  addressing  the  throngs  who  now  always  followed 
Him,  and  it  needed  only  a  look  and  a  word  of  the  Master,  to  make  him 
throw  up  his  office,  an.d  cast  in  his  lot  with  Him.  At  the  command  of 
Jesus  he  "left  all,  rose  up,  and  folloAved  Him;"  not,  of  coui-se,  on  the 
moment,  for  he  would  have  to  take  formal  steps  to  release  himself,  and 
would  require  to  settle  his  accounts  with  his  superior,  before  he  was  free. 
Henceforth,  however,  he  attended  Him  who  soon  had  not  where  to  lay  His 
head.  It  was  a  critical  time  for  Jesus,  and  His  admission  of  a  publican  as 
a  disciple  coiild  not  fail  to  irritate  His  enemies  still  more.  But  He  had  no 
hesitation  in  His  course.  Sent  to  the  lost.  He  gladly  welcomed,  to  His 
closest  intimacy,  one  of  their  number  in  whom  He  saw  the  germs  of  true 
spiritual  life,  in  calm  disregard  of  the  prejudices  of  the  time,  and  the  false 
religious  narrowness  of  His  fellow  countrymen,  and  their  ecclesiastical 
leaders.  He  desired,  in  the  choice  of  a  publican  as  apostle,  to  embody 
visibly  His  love  for  sinners,  and  show  the  quickening  virtue  of  the  king- 
dom of  God,  even  in  the  most  unlikely. 

An  act  so  entirely  new  and  revolutionary,  in  the  best  sense,  was  too 
momentous  in  the  eyes  of  Matthew  to  pass  unnoticed.  It  was  the  ojoening 
of  a  new  day  for  the  multitudes  whom  the  narrow  self -righteousness  of 
the  Rabbis  had  branded  as  under  the  curse  of  God,  and  had  condemned  as 
hopeless  before  Hira.  The  new  "  call  "  of  Jesus  was  in  vivid  contrast  to 
that  of  Abraham  and  Moses,  for  Abraham  had  been  separated  even  from 
his  triljc,  and  Moses  summoned  only  the  Jews  to  found  the  theocracy  he 
proposed  to  establish.  The  "  call "  which  Matthew  had  obeyed  was  as 
infinitely  comprehensive  as  the  earlier  ones  had  been  rigidly  exclusive.  It 
showed  that  all  would  be  admitted  to  the  Society  Jesus  was  setting  up, 
whatever  their  social  position  ;  if  they  had  spiritual  fitness  for  membership. 
Caste  was  utterly  disallowed ;  before  the  great  Teacher,  all  men,  as  such, 
were  recognised  as  equally  sons  of  the  Heavenly  Father.  Accustomed 
from  infancy  to  take  this  for  granted,  we  cannot  realize  the  magnitude  of 
the  gift  this  new  principle  inaugurated,  or  its  astounding  novelty.  A 
Brahmin,  who  should  proclaim  it  in  India,  and  illustrate  the  social  enfran- 
chisement he  taught,  by  raising  a  despised  Pariah  to  his  intimate  inter- 
course and  friendship,  would  be  the  only  counterjDart  we  can  imagine  at 
this  day. 

It  Avas  natural,  therefore,  that  Matthew  should  celebrate  an  event  so 
unique  as  his  call,  by  a  "  gTcat  feast  in  his  house,"  in  honour  of  Jesus  ;  and 
no  less  so  that  ho  should  invite  a  large  number  of  his  class,  to  rejoice  with 
him  at  the  new  era  ojicned  to  them,  or  that  he  should  extend  the  invita- 
tion to  his  friends  of  the  proscribed  classes  generally.  A  number  of 
persons  in  bad  odour  with  their  moi'e  correct  fellow-citizens  were,  hence, 
brought  together  by  him,  along  with  the  publicans  of  the  locality,  to  do 
Jesus  honour ;  persons  branded  by  public  opinion  as   "  sinners,"  a  name 


LIGHT   AND   DAHKNESS.  3(59 

given  indiscriminately  to  usurers,  gamblers,  thieves,  publicans,  slieplierds, 
and  sellers  of  fruit  grown  in  the  sabbath  years.  It  might  have  seemed 
doubtful  whether  Jesus  would  sit  down  with  such  a  company,  for,  even 
with  us,  it  would  be  a  bold  step  for  any  public  teacher  to  join  a  gathering 
of  persons  in  bad  repute.  The  admission  of  Matthew  to  the  discipleship 
must  have  seemed  to  many  a  great  mistake.  Nothing  could  more  certainly 
damage  the  prospects  of  Jesus  with  the  influential  classes,  or  create  a 
wider  or  deeper  prejudice  and  distrust.  But  nothing  weighed  for  a 
moment  with  Him  against  truth  and  right.  His  soul  was  filled  with  a 
grand  enthusiasm  for  humanity,  and  no  false  or  narrow  exclusiveness  of 
the  day  could  be  allowed  to  stand  in  its  way.  He  accepted  the  invitation 
with  tlic  readiest  cheerfulness,  and  spent  the  evening  in  the  pleasures  of 
friendly  social  intercourse  with  the  strange  assembly. 

The  Eabbis  had  hardly  as  yet  made  up  their  minds  how  to  act  respect- 
ing Him.  They  had  attended  John's  preaching,  though  they  did  not 
submit  to  His  baptism,  which  would  have  been  to  admit  his  sweeping 
charges  against  their  order,  as  a  brood  of  serpents.  But  Jesus  had  not  as 
yet  attacked  them.  He  would  fain  have  won  them,  as  well  as  the  people, 
to  the  kingdom  of  God.  He  had  preached  this  kingdom,  and  the  need 
of  righteousness  ;  had  honoured  Moses  and  the  prophets  ;  had  pressed,  as 
His  great  precepts,  the  love  of  God  and  our  neighbour ;  and  in  all  these 
matters  the  Pharisees  could  support  Him.  He  had  enforced  moderation 
on  His  disciples,  and  had  sought  intercourse  with  the  Eabbis,  ratiier  than 
shunned  it.  His  reply  to  their  earlier  opposition  was  gentle  though 
unanswerable.  No  doubt  He  knew  from  the  first  that  they  would  reject 
Plis  overtures,  but  it  was  none  the  less  right  to  seek  to  woo  them  to 
friendship,  that  they  might  enter  His  kingdom  if  they  would.  Had  they 
joined  Him,  their  influence  would  have  aided  His  work  ;  if  they  refused, 
He  had  done  His  part.  He  did,  indeed,  win  some.  Here  and  there  a 
Eabbi  humbled  himself  to  follow  Him,  though  He  did  not  belong  to  the 
schools,  and  was  the  deadly  opponent  of  their  cherished  traditions.  Others 
hesitated;  but  some  even  of  the  leading  Pharisees,  as  at  Capernaum^ 
invited  Him  to  their  houses  and  tables,  listened  to  His  teaching,  reasoned 
modestly  with  Him,  and  treated  Him,  every  way,  with  respect.  He  was 
looked  upon  by  them  as  a  friend  of  the  nation,  and  the  title  of  Kabbi  was 
willingly  given  Him, 

But  it  became  clearer,  each  day,  that  there  could  be  no  alliance  between 
views  so  opposed  as  His  and  theii-s.  Where  action  was  needed  He  would 
not  for  a  moment  conceal  His  difference  from  them,  and  Matthew's  feast 
was  an  occasion  on  which  a  great  principle  demanded  decisive  expi^ession. 

To  the  Eabbis,  and  the  Pharisees  at  large,  nothing  could  be  more  unbe- 
coming and  irregular  than  the  presence  of  Jesus  at  such  a  gathering.  To 
be  Levitically  "  clean,"  was  the  supreme  necessity  of  their  religious  lives. 
They  regarded  themselves  as  true  friends  of  their  race,  and  they  were,  in 
fact,  the  leaders  of  the  nation.  But  they  looked  at  men  not  simply  as 
such,  but  through  the  cold  superficial  medium  of  an  artificial  theology, 
which  dried  up  their  sympathy.  Their  philanthropy  was  narrowed  to  the 
limits  of  Levitical  purity.     Publicans  and  sinners,  and  the  mass  of  tho 

B   B 


370  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

lower  classes,  were,  to  a  Pharisee,  hopelessly  lost,  because  of  their  "  un- 
cleanness,"  and  he  shrank  from  all  contact  with  them.  He  might  wish  to 
save,  but  he  dared  not  touch,  or  come  near  them,  and  so  left  them  to  their 
misery  and  sin.  No  Pharisee  would  receive  a  person  as  a  guest  if  he 
suspected  that  he  was  a  "  sinner."  He  would  not  let  one  of  the  "  Am-ha- 
aretzin"— the  common  people— touch  him.  It  was  unlawful  to  come  into 
their  company,  even  with  the  holy  design  of  inducing  them  to  read  the 
Law,  and  it  was  defilement  to  take  food  from  them,  or,  indeed,  from  any 
stranger,  or  even  to  touch  a  knife  belonging  to  them.  The  thousands 
"  unclean  "  from  mere  ignorance,  or  from  their  callings,  or  from  careless- 
ness, were  an  "abomination,"  "vermin,"  "unclean  beasts,"  and  "twice 
accursed."  And  to  touch  the  clothes  of  one  of  the  "  common  people," 
defiled  every  Pharisee  alike,  while  the  touch  of  those  of  a  Pharisee  of  a 
lower  grade  of  Levitical  purity  defiled  one  of  a  higher.  Like  the  Essenes, 
one  Pharisee  avoided  the  contact  of  another  less  strict,  and,  therefore,  of  a 
lower  rank  of  holiness. 

It  must,  therefore,  have  been  as  if  a  Brahmin  had  outraged  every  idea 
of  Hindoo  religion  and  morals,  by  sitting  down  at  a  meal  with  Sudras, 
when  the  Ptal^bis  at  Capernaum  saw  and  heard  of  Jesus  reclining  at  table 
among  a  promiscuous  gathering  of  publicans  and  sinners. 

They  had  not  yet,  however,  come  to  open  controversy  with  Him,  and 
contented  themselves  with  contemptuous  taunts  about  Him  to  the  dis- 
ciples, who,  as  Jews,  must  have  at  least  formerly  shared  the  sovereign 
contempt  felt  for  such  hated  social  outcasts.  Even  to  hold  a  religious 
service  with  them  would  have  been  a  breach  of  the  Law,  but  to  join  them 
on  a  footing  of  friendly  intercourse  !  "  Founder  of  a  new  holy  kingdom  of 
God,  and  recline  at  table  with  publicans  and  sinners  !  "  How  keenly  such 
words  must  have  wounded  men  like  Peter,  and  the  small  knot  of  disciples 
who  followed  Jesus,  may  be  imagined.  They  had  been  taught  in  the 
school  of  the  Baptist,  an  earnest  Jew,  who  had  enforced  ultra-Pharisaic 
Judaism.  The  early  scruples  of  Peter  survived  even  to  apostolic  times. 
Jaiues  was  a  ISTazarite  till  his  death,  if  we  can  trust  tradition,  and  even 
Matthew,  the  priestly  publican,  for  his  name  Levi  shows  him  to  have  been 
of  priestly  race,  is  said  to  have  eaten,  through  life,  only  fruit,  vegetables, 
and  bread,  but  no  flesh.  In  their  perplexity  and  distress  they  appealed  to 
Jesus. 

It  was  well  they  did  so,  for  their  distress  procured  for  all  ages  an  answer 
of  Divine  sweetness  and  grandeur.  "  To  whom  sliotild  I  go  but  to  such  as 
these  ?  The  whole  have  no  need  of  a  phj^sician,  but  they  that  are  sick. 
Tm^n  to  the  prophets  whom  you  revere,  and  think  what  the  words  of  Hosea 
mean,  '  I  desire  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice ' — acts  rather  than  offerings — • 
practical  godliness,  not  legal  forms — Divine  sympathy  with  the  lost,  rather 
than  only  the  empty  show  of  outward  worshija  —for  I  have  not  come  to  call 
the  righteous,  but  to  call  sinners  to  repentance.  I  expect  nothing  from 
men  who  think  they  are  righteous,  and  despise  others.  They  feel  no  need 
of  Me.  My  help  is  needed  for  just  such  '  sinners '  as  they  would  have  me 
leave  to  perish." 

Jesus  had  not,  of  course,  the  bodily  sick  in  His  thoughts.     He  spoke  of 


LIGHT   AND    DARKNESS.  371 

the  mass  of  the  people  of  the  middle  and  lower  ranks,  too  sadly  marked  by 
religious  shortcomings  and  unworthiness.  The  guests  at  Matthew's  table 
were,  doubtless,  more  or  less  open  to  accusations  of  covetousness,  im- 
purity, indifference  to  morality  and  religion,  and  doubtful  worth  as 
citizens.  John  would  have  kept  himself  aloof  from  them,  unless  they 
came,  as  penitents,  for  baptism.  He  had  lived  in  wildernesses,  apart  from 
men,  shrinking  from  the  turmoil  of  the  great  world.  He  had  even  for- 
bidden lawful  enjoyments  and  pleasures.  He  had  sought  to  build  up  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  on  the  lonely  banks  of  the  Jordan,  far  from  men,  by 
sternly  commanding  the  broken  hearts  that  sought  j^eace  and  consolation 
from  him,  to  live  lives  of  Jewish  austerity  and  repentance.  Jesus  required 
a  change  of  heart  no  less  than  he,  but  He  did  not  lead  men  out  of  the 
world  to  secure  it,  or  burden  life  with  the  anxiety  and  disquiet  of  efforts 
after  outward  purity. 

He  came  trustfully  to  them  into  their  little  world,  bringing  with  Him  a 
heart  full  of  Divine  benevolence  and  tender  gentleness.  In  His  eyes  they 
were  "  sick,"  and  He  treated  them  like  a  true  physician,  entering  into  all 
their  interests,  s}Tnpathizing  with  their  cares  and  sorrows,  realizing  their 
special  wants,  and  bearing  Himself  as  a  friend  among  friends.  They  were 
men,  and,  as  such,  capable  of  sorrow  for  sin,  and  efforts  towards  a  nobler 
life.  They  had  hearts  to  recognise  goodness,  and  might  thus  be  won  to 
faith  in  Himself,  as  the  ideal  of  the  highest  spiritual  life.  Nothing  can 
mark  the  grandeur  of  His  enthusiasm  for  humanity,  more  than  that  He 
thus  proposed  to  lay  the  foundation  of  His  kingdom  in  a  class  on  which 
the  priests  and  theologians,  and  the  higher  ranks  of  the  day,  looked  clown 
with  haughty  contempt  and  moral  aversion.  It  shows  how  dee2:)ly  He 
looked  into  things,  that  He  recognised  the  greater  openness  for  the  Truth 
of  castes  thus  discredited;  their  more  frank  and  decisive  bearing  towards 
the  startling  innovations  of  His  teaching ;  their  deeper  longing  for  peace 
of  conscience  and  reconciliation  to  God.  It  was  the  sense  of  this  that  had 
led  to  the  choice  of  His  first  disciples  from  the  ranks  of  the  people ;  and  it 
was  this,  in  part,  that  led  to  that  of  Matthew.  In  his  case,  however,  there 
was,  also,  the  proclamation  of  His  indifference  to  outward  distinctions,  or 
rules,  afterwards  formulated  by  Peter — who  had  never  forgotten  the  lesson 
— into  the  memoi'able  words,  "  Of  a  truth  I  perceive  that  God  is  no  re- 
specter of  persons,  but,  in  every  nation,  he  that  feareth  Him,  and  worketh 
righteousness,  is  accepted  of  Him."  A  truth  evident  enough  to-day,  but 
carrying  with  it,  when  inaugurated  by  Jesus,  an  entire  revolution  in  the 
religious  history  of  mankind. 

The  Divine  charity  that  ran  so  counter  to  the  narrow  pride  of  the  Rabbis 
was  no  less  startling  to  the  disciples  of  John,  but  there  were  other  difficul- 
ties to  both.  No  open  breach  had  yet  taken  place,  and  a  friendly  confer- 
ence might  explain  much.  Jesus  had  silently  left  the  harsh  discijjline  of 
fasting  behind,  and  had  prescribed  no  formal  rules  for  prayer,  such  as 
were  common  to  the  Eabbis  and  their  disciples,  and  to  those  of  the 
Baptist ;  and  now  a  deputation  came  to  ask  Him  for  an  explanation.  The 
Law  of  Moses  had  appointed  only  one  fast  in  the  year,  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement,  but  the  Eabbis  had   added  many,  both  pu.blic  and  private. 


372  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

They  enjoined  one  for  the  Destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  tlie  Chaldeans,  and 
others  for  various  incidents  connected  with  the  siege,  or  the  troubles  of 
the  first  period  after  the  Captivity.  There  was  another  to  lament  the  day 
on  which  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures  into  Greek  had  been  finislied, 
and  every  public  calamity  or  emergency  was  signalized  by  a  fast  specially 
enjoined  by  the  authorities.  It  was  rather  to  private  fasts,  however,  that 
allusion  was  made.  Strict  Pharisees,  aiming  at  the  highest  degree  of 
merit,  fasted  voluntarily  every  Monday  and  Thursday,  to  commemorate, 
respectively,  the  going  up  of  Moses  to  the  Mount  on  the  fifth  day,  to 
receive  the  renewed  tables  of  the  Commandments,  and  his  descent  on  the 
second.  They  often  added  other  fasts,  to  have  lucky  dreams,  and  to  obtain 
their  interpretation;  for,  like  the  Essenes,  the  Pharisees  looked  on  fasts 
as  a  preparation  for  receiving  revelations.  They  fasted  also  to  ai.  ert  evil, 
or  to  procure  some  good.  Mortification  and  self-infliction  had  become  a 
formal  religious  merit,  in  the  mercenary  theology  of  the  day,  and  waa 
paraded  before  the  world  by  some,  to  heighten  their  reputation  for  holi- 
ness. The  idea  had,  at  first,  risen  from  a  fancied  opposition  between  the 
body  and  the  soul ;  as  if  the  latter  could  only  be  duly  raised  by  depressing 
the  former.  But  asceticism  was  contraiy  to  the  genius  of  the  new  king- 
dom of  God,  which  laid  no  stress  on  meat,  or  drink,  or  abstinence  from 
them,  but  on  "righteousness,  peace,  and  joy,  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

Even  prayer  had  been  reduced  to  a  mechanical  system,  as  part  of  "  the 
hedge  of  the  Law,"  invented  by  the  Eabbis.  No  one  could  lay  greater 
stress  on  it  than  Jesus,  when  offered  as  the  utterance  of  contrite  humility; 
but,  as  a  part  of  a  system  of  merit  like  the  Rabbinical  theology  of  the  day, 
He  held  it  lightly.  No  precepts  could  be  more  worthy  than  many  found, 
even  yet,  in  the  Rabbis,  respecting  the  true  worth  of  prayer;  but,  in 
practice,  these  higher  teachings  had  fallen  into  wide  disuse.  It  had  come 
to  be  tedious  for  length,  and  abounded  in  repetitions.  Minute  rules  for 
correct  prayer  were  taught,  with  fixed  hours,  and  prescribed  forms,  and 
superstitious  power  was  assigned  to  the  mere  words.  The  householder 
was  to  repeat  the  Sch'ma  in  his  house  morning  and  evening,  to  drive  away 
evil  spirits.  To  say  it  when  in  bed  was  like  grasping  a  two-edged  sword, 
to  slay  the  assaulting  demons.  The  mere  form  of  prayer,  if  recited  rightly 
and  often,  was  counted  as  merit  laid  up  in  heaven.  To  say  the  Sch'ma 
often  was,  in  fact,  in  the  phrase  of  the  Rabbis,  "  to  make  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  one's  own." 

It  could  not  be  doubtful  how  Jesus  would  bear  Himself  to  views  so 
opposed  to  inner  and  spiritual  religion.  Silently  omitting  any  reference 
to  the  objection  respecting  prayer.  He  addressed  Himself  to  the  question 
of  fasting.  "His  presence  with  His  disciples  was  like  that  of  a  bride- 
groom with  his  companions,  during  the  marriage  rejoicings.  Could  He 
ask  them  to  fast  while  He  was  witli  them  ?  It  would  be  time  for  them  to 
do  so  when  He  was  taken  away  from  them.  They  would  fast  then!" 
Seizing  the  opportunity,  and  addressing  the  disciples  of  John  especially, 
He  went  even  further.  "  John  had  sought  to  do  what  was  worse  than 
hopeless— to  renew  the  old  theocracy  by  merely  external  reform ;  to  patch 
up  the  old  and  torn  robe  of  Judaism,  and  make  it  serve  a  new  age.     It  was 


LIGHT   AND   DARKNESS.  373 

as  vain  as  a  man's  sewing  a  piece  of  raw  unteazled  cloth  on  tlie  rent  of 
an  old  garment ;  tlie  patch  conld  only  tear  off  so  much  more  and  make  the 
rent  worse,  while  the  patch  itself  would  be  a  mere  shred.  Or,  it  was 
like  putting  new  wine  into  old  skins,  which  must  burst  when  the  wine 
fermented.  New  teaching,  like  His,  must  be  put  into  new  bottles ;  the 
forms  and  rites  that  had  served  till  now  were  of  no  more  use ;  a  new  dis- 
pensation had  come,  which  those  forms  would  only  cumljer.  New  forms 
were  needed  for  the  new  religious  life  He  came  to  introduce." 

"Words  so  fatal  to  cherished  prejudices  must  have  struck  deep,  but  the 
hearts  He  had  unavoidably  wounded  were  not  left  without  tender  soothing. 
"  It  was  no  wonder  that  John  had  clung  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  even  in 
its  outward  accidents.  He  had  drunk  of  the  old  wine,  and  would  not 
change  it  for  new  !  contented  to  know  that  '  the  old  was  good.'  "  Hence- 
forth, however,  the  position  of  Jesus  to  the  worn-out  forms  of  the  past 
was  unmistakable.  He  had  chosen  His  path,  and  would  lead  mankind 
from  the  bondage  of  the  letter  to  the  freedom  of  the  spirit,  and  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  letter  arrayed  themselves  against  Him.  As  became  the 
Founder  of  the  first  purely  spiritual  religion  the  world  had  seen,  He 
henceforth  silently  ignored  the  ceremonial  law,  avoiding  open  condemna- 
tion, but  bearing  Himself  towards  it  throughout  as  He  did  in  the  matter 
of  circumcision,  which  He  never  enforced  on  His  disciples,  or  demanded 
from  believing  heathen,  and  never  commended,  though  He  never,  in  words, 
condemned  it.  The  whole  ritual  system,  of  which  it  was  the  most  pro- 
minent feature,  was  treated  as  merely  indifferent. 

It^vas  indescribably  touching  to  see,  at  the  very  threshold  of  our  Lord's 
public  life,  that  even  when  He  uses  so  joyous  an  image  of  Himself  as  that 
of  a  bridegroom,  He  dashes  in  the  picture  with  shadow.  He  had  begun 
His  course  by  the  Temptation  ;  but,  thenceforward,  to  the  close  His  path 
lay  through  struggle,  suffering,  and  self-sacrifice,  to  a  far  other  glory  than 
that  which  was  expected  in  the  Messiah.  He  would,  indeed,  have  known 
His  nation  and  their  Eoman  masters — the  dominant  Pharisees,  and  the 
priesthood — badly,  not  to  have  foreseen,  from  the  first,  that  He  would 
have  to  pass  through  the  fiercest  conflict,  only  to  reach  a  tragic  end. 
Thoughts  of  self-denial,  self-sacrifice,  even  to  the  surrender  of  life ;  of 
losing  life  that  He  might  gain  it ;  of  the  corn  dying  that  it  might  bring 
forth  fruit,  run  like  a  dark  thread  through  all  His  discourses,  to  the  very 
end.  He  sends  His  Apostles  forth  like  sheep  amongst  wolves ;  foretells 
their  suffering  the  bitterest  persecution  ;  and  consoles  them  only  with  the 
one  thought  that  it  should  content  the  disciple  to  be  on  the  same  footing 
with  Himself.  In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  He  predicts  that  all  who 
believe  on  Him  will  suffer  hatred  and  evil  treatment.  He  recognises  those 
alone  as  His  true  followers  who,  denying  themselves,  take  up  His  cross 
and  bear  it.  He  has  nothing  to  promise  His  disciples  but  that  they  should 
be  servants,  submitting  patiently  to  the  extremest  wrong,  and  has  no 
higher  vision  even  for  Himself.  He  may  rejoice,  as  the  bridegroom,  with 
His  friends,  for  a  time,  but  will  soon  be  taken  away  from  them.  A  king- 
dom founded  on  such  a  basis  of  deliberate  self-denial  and  self-sacrifice,  ia 
unique  in  the  history  of  the  world. 


374  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THE    CHOICE    OF   THE   TWELVE,   AND   THE    SERMON    ON   THE   MOUNT. 

HOW  long  Jesiis  remained  at  Capernaum  is  not  told  us,  but  we  may 
readily  believe  tbat  He  was  glad  to  leave  it,  witli  its  gathering 
opposition,  as  soon  as  possible.     Though  it  was  His  centre  of  action,  the 
Kin"-dom  needed  to  be  proclaimed  over  the  whole  land.     Preachiiig  was 
the  special  agency  on  which  He  relied,  far  more  than  on  any  displays  of 
supernatui-al  power.     It  was  by  it  He  designed  to  work  the  stupendous 
spiritual  miracle  of  the  new  birth  of  Israel  and  of  Humanity.     As  the 
Founder  of  a  religion  which  had  no  code  of  laws  and  repudiated  force, 
addressing  itself  solely  to  the  free  convictions  of  men, — the  living  word  and 
its  illustration  in  His  own  life,  were  alone  open  to  Him  as  means  for  its 
diffusion.     The  hearts  and  souls  of  men  must  be  won  to  the  highest  truth, 
by  persuading  the  conscience,  and  thus  influencing  the   will.      In  these 
earlier  months  He   took   advantage    of  the   facilities   of   the   synagogue 
service,  to  gain  the  ear  of  the  people,  but  His  preaching  was  very  different 
from  the  stereotyped  lifelessness  of  the  Rabbis,  and  excited  universal 
astonishment  by  its  originality,  power,  and  resistless  enthusiasm.     At  a 
later  time,  when  His  "  new  doctrine  "  had  roused  the  opposition  of  the 
authorities,  the  use  of  the  synagogues  was  no  longer  granted  Him.     But, 
even  from  the  first.  He  did  not  confine  Himself  to  fixed  times  or  places. 
He  addressed  the  people  on  the  shores  of  the  lake,  on  the  lonely  slopes  and 
valleys  of  the  hills,  in  the  streets  and  market-places  of  towns  and  villages, 
at  the  crossing  points  of  the  public  roads,  and  even  in  houses  ;  any  place, 
indeed,  that  offered  an  audience,  was  alike  to  Him.      The  burden  and 
spirit  of  His  preaching  may  be  gathered  from  the  Gospels  throughout. 
He  proclaimed  Himself  the  Good  Shepherd  seeking  to  bring  back  the  lost 
sheep  to  the  heavenly  fold ;  to  quicken  and  turn  towards  God  the  weak, 
sinful,  human  will,  and  to  breathe  into  the  soul  asj^irations  after  a  higher 
spiritual  life,  from  the  fulness  of  His  own  perfect  example. 

To  Avin  all.  He  moved  as  a  man  among  men,  a  friend  among  friends,  a 
helper  amongst  all  who  needed  help  ;  declining  every  outward  honour  or 
flattery,  or  even  the  appearance  of  either.  While  advancing  the  most 
amazing  pretensions  as  His  kingly  prerogative,  He  was,  personally,  so 
meek  and  lowly  that  He  could  make  this  gentle  humility  a  ground  for  the 
trust  and  unembarrassed  approach  of  all  who  were  troubled.  Content 
with  obscurity,  and  leaving  to  others  the  struggle  for  distinction  or  place. 
He  chose  a  life  so  humble  that  the  poorest  had  no  awe  of  His  dignity,  but 
gathered  round  Him  as  their  special  friend.  His  tastes  were  in  keeping 
with  this  simplicity,  for  He  delighted  in  the  society  of  the  lowly,  and 
children  clustered  in  His  steps  with  the  natural  instinct  that  detects  one 
who  loves  them.  He  was  never  engrossed  by  His  own  affairs,  but  ever 
ready  to  give  Himself  up  to  those  of  others- to  counsel  them  in  difficulties, 
to  sympathize  with  them  in  their  sorrows  or  joys,  and  to  relieve  their 
sickness  or  wants.  It  is  His  grand  peculiarity,  that  there  is  a  total  obli- 
vion of  self  in  His  whole  life.    The  enthusiasm  of  a  Divine  love,  in  the  pure 


THE    CHOICE    OF   THE    TWELVE,  375 

light  of  which  no  selfish  thought  could  live,  filled  His  whole  soul.  He 
showed  abiding  sympathy  for  human  weakness,  and  to  cheer  the  outcast 
and  hopeless,  He  announced  that  He  came  to  seek  such  as  to  others  seemed 
lost.  In  His  joy  over  a  sinner  won  back  to  righteousness  He  hears  even 
the  angels  of  God  rejoicing. 

There  had  never  appeared  in  any  age  such  a  man,  such  a  friend,  or  such 
a  helper.  He  seemed  the  contrast  of  a  king  or  prince,  and  yet  all  His 
words  wore  kingly,  all  His  acts  a  succession  of  the  kingliest  deeds, 
decisions,  and  commands,  and  His  whole  public  life,  the  silent  and  yet 
truest  foundation  of  an  evei'lasting  kingdom.  He  must,  indeed,  have 
seemed  anything  rather  than  the  founder  of  a  nev/  society,  or  of  a  new 
empire,  and  it  miist  have  startled  men  when  they  found  that  He  had,  by 
His  works  and  life,  established  in  the  midst  of  the  old  theocracy  the 
framework  of  the  most  impei'ishable  and  the  widest-reaching  empire  this 
earth  has  ever  seen  ;  an  empire  before  which  all  former  religious  systems 
were  to  fade  away.  But  though  His  absolute  self-control  was  never  inter- 
mitted, there  were  times  when  the  claims  of  the  truth,  or  the  service  of 
His  kingdom,  brought  out  the  full  grandeur  of  His  power  and  kingly 
greatness.  It  was  thus  when  He  had  to  meet  and  confute  prejudice  and 
error,  or  to  heal  the  sick  and  diseased.  At  times  we  shall  see  Him  forced 
to  blame  and  condemn,  but  this  was  only  a  passing  shadow  on  the  clear 
heaven  of  His  unvarying  grace  and  love.  It  is  impossible  to  realize  such 
an  appearance,  but  we  can  imagine  it  in  some  measure.  The  stainless 
truth  and  uprightness  which  filled  His  whole  nature ;  the  exhaustless  love 
and  pity  which  were  the  very  breath  of  His  spirit;  the  radiant  joy  of  the 
bridegroom  wedding  redeemed  humanity ;  the  calm  light  as  of  other 
worlds  in  His  every  look,  may  well  account  for  the  deathless  love  and 
devotion  He  inspired  in  those  whom  He  suffered  to  follow  Him. 

The  widening  success  of  His  work  had  already  required  an  addition  to 
the  small  circle  of  His  immediate  attendants.  But  a  single  accession,  like 
that  of  Matthew,  was,  erelong,  not  enough.  It  soon  became  necessary  to 
select  a  larger  number  who  should  be  constantly  in  His  company,  and 
receive  His  mstructions,  that  they  might,  in  due  time,  go  forth  to  proclaim 
the  Kingdom  over  a  wider  area  than  He  could  Himself  reach.  Its  laws, 
its  morality,  its  relations  to  the  Old  Dispensation,  must  be  taught  them, 
and  they  must  catch  His  enthusiasm  by  such  a  lengthened  intercourse  in 
the  familiarity  of  private  life,  as  would  kindle  in  their  souls  the  ideal  He 
presented.  That  they  should  follow  Him  at  all  would  be  left  to  them- 
selves, but  the  choice  would  be  made  by  Himself,  of  such  as,  on  various 
gi'ounds.  He  saw  fittest.  They  were  to  be  apostles,  or  missionaries,  and 
would  have,  for  their  high  commission,  the  organization  of  the  new  king- 
dom of  God,  first  in  Israel,  and  then  through  the  world. 

To  accept  such  an  invitation  implied  no  little  enthusiasm.  ISTo  earthly 
reward  was  held  out,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  sacrifice  of  all  jicrsonal 
claims  was  demanded.  They  were  to  abandon  their  former  calling,  what- 
ever it  might  be,  with  all  its  present  or  prospective  advantages,  to  give  up 
all  family  ties,  to  bear  the  worst  indignities  and  ill-treatmcnfc,  and  yet 
repress  even  just  resentment.    They  were  to  hold  their  lives  at  His  service. 


376  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

and  willingly  yield  them,  if  it  required  the  sacrifice.  A  measure  of  self- 
restriction  is  implied  as  the  basis  of  any  state,  for  no  society  could  flourish 
where  its  interests,  as  a  whole,  are  not  spontaneously  considered  before 
those  of  the  individual  citizen.  But  the  self-abnegation  required  by  Jesus 
1  in  those  admitted  to  the  Kingdom  He  was  now  founding,  was  Avithout  a 
j  parallel,  for  while  earthly  states  return  an  equivalent,  in  many  ways,  for 
the  self-surrender  they  impose,  He  proclaimed  from  the  first  that  those 
who  became  His  followers  must  do  so  "  hoping  for  nothing  again  "  to  com- 
pensate for  any  self-sacrifice,  even  the  greatest.  In  the  case  of  the 
"Apostles,"  the  self-surrender  was  not  merely  contingent,  but  present 
and  final,  for  He  held  before  them  no  prospect  through  life  but  privation 
and  persecution,  and  even  possible  martyrdom.  In  the  next  world,  indeed, 
He  promised  rewards,  but  He  precluded  mere  mercenary  hojoes  even  of 
these,  by  making  them  conditional  on  unfeigned  sincerity  in  tlie  obedience 
to  His  laws  and  love  of  His  person.  The  mere  hypocrite — or  actor — could 
have  no  object  in  joining  Him,  and  was  indignantly  denounced.  The 
truest  honesty  in  word  and  deed  were  alone  accepted,  and  the  want  of  it, 
in  any  degree,  was  the  one  fatal  moral  defect. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  all  who  offered  themselves  as  His 
I      followers  were  not  accepted.     Where  He  saw  unfitness.  He  repelled  ad- 
I        j     vances.    To  a  Eabbi  who  came  saluting  Him  as  "  Teacher,"  and  professing 
'  his  willingness  to  follow  Him  as  His  disciple,  He  returned  the  discourag- 

ing answer,  that  the  foxes  had  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  nests,  but 
the  Son  of  Man — the  Messiah — had  not  where  to  lay  His  head.  It  might 
have  seemed  of  moment  to  secure  the  support  of  a  Rabbi,  but  Jesus  had 
seen  the  worldly  bent  of  his  thoughts,  and  thus  turned  him  aside,  by 
blasting  any  hopes  of  advantage  or  honour  in  joining  Him.  Even  in- 
decision or  hesitation,  whatever  tlie  ground,  was  fatal  to  admittance  to 

2_  ,  His  favour.  The  request  of  a  disciple  to  go  first  and  bury  his  father, 
before  finally  following  Him,  was  only  met  by  the  command  to  follow  Him 
at  once,  and  leave  the  spiritually  dead  to  bury  the  corporeally  dead :  to 
put  off  decision,  even  for  so  worthy  a  cause  as  desire  to  perform  the  last 
offices  to  a  father,  was  dangerous  !  "  Go,  thou,  and  preach  the  kingdom 
of  God."  The  devotion  due  to  it,  unreservedly,  could  not  be  shared,  even 
by  the  claims  of  affection  and  earthly  duties.     A  request  to  be  allowed 

^  ^  to  bid  his  household  farewell,  before  finally  leaving  them,  was  met  by  a 
similar  answer — "No  man  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking 
back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God."  The  indispensable  condition  of  ad- 
mittance into  the  select  band  who  followed  and  lived  with  Him,  was  an 
engrossing  enthusiasm  for  Himself  and  His  work,  which  permitted  con- 
cern for  no  second  interest  whatever. 

He  had  determined  to  surround  Himself  with  a  small  body  of  such 
trustworthy  followers,  limiting  the  number,  by  an  association  natural  to 
His  race,  to  twelve.  They  were  to  form  the  closest,  inmost  circle  of  His 
disciples,  and  to  be,  in  fact.  His  friends  and  companions.  He  would  give 
them  His  fullest  confidence  :  open  His  mind  to  them  more  fully  than  to 
others  :  and,  by  living  among  them,  inspire  them  with  His  own  fervour, 
and  mould  them  to  His  own  likeness.     They  woixld  see  how  His  soul  never 


THE    CHOICE    OF    THE    TWELVE.  377 

unbent  fi-oni  ibs  grand  enthusiasm  :  how  Ho  never  wearied  in  His  tran- 
scendent devotion  of  body  and  spirit  to  His  work.  In  seeing  and  hearing 
Him,  they  would  gain  experience  :  in  the  opposition  and  trials  they  met 
in  His  company,  their  fidelity  would  be  put  to  the  test,  and,  in  the  end, 
they  would  be  qualified  for  the  special  work  for  which  they  had  been 
chosen — to  be  sent  forth  to  preach,  and  to  repeat  the  miraculous  works 
of  their  Master,  as  evidence  of  His  Divine  authority. 

It  is  not  stated  definitely  where  the  selection  of  the  Apostles  was  made. 
His  preaching  had  already  gained  a  "  great  multitude  "  of  disciples,  who 
followed  Him  in  His  journey  from  town  to  town,  along  with  a  vast  crowd 
drawn  after  Him  by  various  motives.  The  movement  was  rapidly  assum- 
ing an  importance  like  that  of  John;  it  Avas  extending  over  the  nation. 
"Withdrawing  Himself  from  the  throng,  by  night,  as  was  His  frequent 
custom.  He  retired  once  more  into  the  hills  to  pray,  and  continued  in  de- 
votion till  morning.  Brought  up  among  hills,  He  was  ever  fond  of  their 
solitude,  their  pure  air  and  open  sky,  which  seemed  to  bring  Him  nearer 
His  Father.  It  was  somewhere,  apparently,  in  the  hilly  background  of 
the  Sea  of  Galilee,  for  though  spoken  of  as  "the  mountain,"  there  are  no 
means  of  deciding  the  precise  locality.  When  the  day  broke,  instead  of 
seeking  rest,  He  revealed  the  subject  of  His  night-long  communion  with 
His  Heavenly  Father,  by  proceeding  to  select  His  future  Apostles.  The 
crowd  of  His  discij^les  had  returned,  with  the  new  day,  from  the  neigh- 
bouring towns  and  villages  where  they  had  spent  the  night,  when  Jesus, 
coming  down  from  His  solitary  devotions,  gathered  them  once  more  round 
Him,  and  "  calling  to  Him  whom  He  Himself  would,"  "  appointed  twelve, 
that  they  might  be  Avith  Him,  and  that  He  should  send  them  forth  to 
preach — to  heal  sicknesses,  and  to  cast  out  devils." 

His  choice  was  necessarily  made  from  a  comparatively  small  number, 
for  the  majority  must  have  lately  joined  Him,  and  must  thus  have  been, 
as  yet,  little  known.  So  far  as  possible  He  made  His  selection  from  those 
who  had  been  longest  with  Him,  and  whom  He  had,  in  some  measure, 
proved ;  but  they  Avere  as  a  whole,  simple,  unlearned,  plastic  men  of  the 
people ;  for  Jesus  had  already  seen  that  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  Israel 
must  rise  from  the  humbler  classes.  He  kncAV  that  the  educated  men  of 
the  nation,  the  Eabbis  and  priests,  were  perverted  and  prej  udiced,  and  He 
could  not  look  to  the  officials  or  authorities  of  any  grade,  or  to  the  prevail- 
ing religious  schools.  The  commonalty  were  sounder,  freer  from  the 
errors  of  the  age, — more  open  to  the  eternal  truths  He  came  to  announce, 
and  more  ready  to  accept  the  spiritual  kingdom  He  came  to  found.  Yet, 
it  may  be,  that  had  the  choice  been  wider,  some  one  might  have  been 
available  from  the  trained  intellects  of  the  nation,  Avith  results  it  would  be 
vain  to  conjecture.  Had  Paul  been  one  of  the  twelve  now  chosen  by 
Christ,  how  much  might  have  been  changed  in  the  record  of  the  Gospels 
by  the  genius,  the  Eabbinical  training,  the  breadth  of  mind,  and  the  grand 
loving  enthusiasm  Avliich  almost  founded  Western  Christianity?  Christ 
laid  no  stress  on  their  former  social  position  or  religious  party,  for  they 
included,  on  the  one  side,  a  publican,  Avho  Avas  also  a  Levite,  and  on  the 
other,  one  aa'Iio  had  belonged  to  the  ultra-puritan  zealots,  the  fanatical 


378  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

party  of  Judas  the  Galilccan.  ISTor  did  He  require  tlicm  to  bo  immari-icd, 
for  Peter,  we  kuow,  had  a  wife,  and  if  we  may  trust  the  tradition  of  the 
Armenian  Church,  the  only  Apostles  who  were  single  were  the  sons  of 
I  Zebedee,  and  Thomas.  The  Capernaum  circle  yielded  Him  no  fewer  than 
1  seven  of  the  twelve, — Peter,  and  his  brother  Andrew,  who  lived  with  him ; 
two  sons  from  the  house  of  Zebedee, — James  and  John ;  two  sous  of 
AlphjEus, — James  the  Little  and  Jude,  who  is  commonly  distinguished  as 
Lebbasus,  "the  stout-hearted,"  or  Thaddasus,  "the  brave."  The  publican 
Matthew  was  also  from  Capernaum,  and  was  the  third  from  the  household 
of  Alphasus,  if  the  name  refer  to  the  father  of  James  the  Little  and  Jude ; 
and  Philip  belonged  to  the  village  of  Bethsaida  in  its  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood, making  in  all,  eight  of  the  twelve,  virtually  from  the  same 
favoured  place.  Of  the  remaining  four,  Nathanael,  the  son  of  Talmai, 
the  Bartholomew  of  our  version,  was  from  Cana,  on  the  north  side  of  the 
plain  of  El  Battauf,  on  which  Jesus  had  so  often  looked  down  from  the 
Nazareth  hill-top.  Thomas — ready  to  die,  but  slow  to  believe  :  manly  and 
full  of  grave  tenderness, — whose  Hebrew  name  was  sometimes  tui'ued 
into  the  Greek  equivalent  Didymus,  "  the  twin," — was  the  same  person, 
one  tradition  says,  as  Judas,  the  brother  of  Jesus  ;  as  if  Mary  had  had  a 
double  birth,  after  bearing  her  eldest  son.  If  so,  one  of  the  household 
amongst  whom  Our  Saviour  had  grown  up,  one  son  of  His  mother,  re- 
deemed the  general  coldness  of  the  rest.  The  name  of  Simon  the  Zealot, 
another  Galilcean,  and  that  of  the  only  Apostle  from  Jndea, — Judas,  the 
traitor,  of  the  village  of  Kerioth,  in  the  south  of  Judah — close  the  list. 

Such  was  the  band  which  Jesus  now  gathered  round  Him.  At  least 
four — James  and  John,  and  James  the  Little  and  Jude— seem  to  have  been 
His  relations  or  connections,  to  whom,  if  we  accept  the  tradition  I  have 
quoted,  we  must  add  Thomas.  One,  at  least,  Avas  of  priestly  race,— the 
degenerate  Levite,  Matthew,  who  had  sunk  to  an  office  held  so  utterly 
infamous  as  a  publican's.  He  and  the  sons  of  Zebedee  seem  to  have  been 
in  a  fair  position,  but  Peter — whom  we  see,  in  the  forty  days  after  the 
Besurrection,  once  more  busy  as  a  fisherman,  in  his  boat  on  the  Lake  of 
Galilee ;  naked,  perhaps  literally,  as  the  fishermen  there  still  often  are, 
that  he  might  the  better,  like  them,  drag  the  net  after  him  through  the 
water,  as  ho  swam  with  it ;  or  casting  his  fisher's  coat  round  him,  and 
leaping  into  the  lake  to  swim  ashore  to  Jesus, — is,  it  may  be,  a  fair  illus- 
tration of  the  social  positioia  of  most  of  his  brethren  in  the  Apostolate. 
/  I  In  the  lists  given  in  the  Gospels,  Peter,  the  host  of  His  Lord  at  Caper- 

naum, always  holds  the  first  place,  but  there  are  variations  in  the  order 
assigned  to  others.  A  true  Galilcean,  Peter  was  energetic  and  fiery,  rather 
than  self-contained  and  reflective.  Warm-hearted  and  impulsive,  he  had 
at  once  the  strength  and  weakness  of  such  a  temperament.  He  is  always 
the  first  to  speak  for  his  brethren  ;  he  craves  earnestly  one  moment  what 
he  has  earnestly  refused  the  instant  before;  he  is  the  first  to  draw  the 
sword  for  Jesus,  but  also  the  first  to  deny  Him.  John  recognises  his  risen 
Master  first  at  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  but  Peter  throws  himself  forthwith 
into  the  lake,  and  is  the  first  to  reach  Jesus'  feet ;  his  thoughts  flash  at 
once  into  acts,  and  he  has  to  be  rebuked  for  too  ready  counsel.     Though 


THE    CHOICE    OF    THE    TWELVE.  379 

foi'  a  moment  he  denies  Christ,  a  look  melts  him,  and  tradition  only  fdls 
np  what  we  feel  a  true  picture,  when  it  tells  us  that  he  rose  each  night, 
through  life,  to  pray  for  forgiveness  at  the  hour  at  Avhich  he  had  sinned 
so  weakly ;  or  when  it  speaks  of  him,  as  at  last  crucified  with  his  head 
downwards,  thinking  himself  unworthy  of  a  nearer  approach  to  the  death 
of  his  Lord. 

In  Peter,  Jesiis  had  an  apostle  who  gave  up  his  w^holc  being  to  his 
Master.  ISTo  one  was  more  receptive  of  lofty  impressions,  and  with  this 
moral  sensibility,  there  was  a  ready,  quick,  happy  insight,  which  divined 
the  significance  of  Christ's  words  with  swift  intelligence.  Yet,  with  this 
delicacy  of  forecast,  and  true  conception  of  the  inner  and  the  expressed 
thoughts  of  Jesus  ;  with  his  quick  eye  for  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  his 
zeal  to  act  on  their  indications,  he  was  deficient  in  sharjo  logical  power  of 
thought  and  in  tenacious  strength  of  will.  In  this  combination  of  strength 
and  weakness,  he  was  the  most  perfect  type  of  the  Galilean  in  the  Aposto- 
late,  and  became  a  special  friend  of  Christ,  who  found  in  him  the  most 
enthusiastic  of  His  followers  ;  the  reflection,  in  some  respects,  of  His  own 
nature,  and  a  heart  than  which  none  beat  truer,  though  in  the  most  decisive 
moments  he  proved  no  firm  support,  but  a  bending  reed,  weak  from 
momentary  trust  in  himself  rather  than  on  his  Lord. 

James  and  John,  the  sons  of  Zebedce,  were  men  of  a  different  mould. 
They  supplied  what  was  wanting  in  Peter,  Beady  to  accept  the  new  ideas, 
and  reproducing  them  for  themselves,  with  mingled  enthusiasm  and  fresh- 
ness of  conception,  they  had  the  same  intense  devotion  to  their  Master  as 
Peter,  with  something,  at  times,  of  the  same  artless  and  unconscious  self- 
prominence.  Their  energy  of  will,  and  quick  flaming  uj)  at  any  op]50si- 
tion,  were  marked  features  of  both,  and  obtained  for  them,  from  Jesus,  the 
name  of  "  the  Sons  of  Thunder."  In  their  zeal  for  His  honour  they  would 
have  called  down  judgment  from  heaven  against  an  inhospitable  village, 
and  wished  to  silence  an  unknown  workei',  who  spoke  in  His  name,  though 
he  did  not  belong  to  the  Twelve.  In  James,  the  Apostles  had  their  first 
mirtyr,  but  John  lived  to  be  the  last  survivor  of  them  all.  Hot  zeal,  based 
on  intense  devotion,  was,  however,  only  a  passing  characteristic,  at  least 
of  John.  He,  of  all  the  Twelve,  drank  deepest  into  his  Master's  Spirit, 
and  realized  it  most.  Self-contained,  meditative,  tender,  he  thought  less 
of  Christ's  acts,  than  of  the  words  which  were  the  revelations  of  His  inner 
Being.  His  whole  spiritual  nature  gave  itself  up  to  loving  contemplation 
of  the  wondrous  life  passing  before  him.  We  owe  to  him,  in  his  Gospel,  an 
image  of  the  higher  nature  of  our  Lord,  such  as  only  one  to  whom  He  was 
all  in  all  could  have  painted.  If  perfect  love  beget  love  in  return,  it  was 
inevitable  that  John  should  win  the  supreme  place  in  Christ's  affection. 
If  the  disciple  leaned  on  the  Master's  bosom,  it  was  because  he  had  shown 
the  love  that  at  last  brought  him,  alone,  of  the  Twelve,  to  the  foot  of  the 
Cross. 

Of  Andrew,  the  brother  of  Peter,  we  know  very  little.  We  have  to  trust 
wholly  to  tradition  for  his  history,  after  Christ's  death.  He  is  said, 
by  one  legend,  to  have  gone  among  the  Scythians,  and,  on  this 
ground,   the    Russians    have   made   him    their  national  saint.      Another 


380  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

assigns  Greece,  and  afterwards  Asia  Minor  and  Thrace,  as  the  scene  of  his 
worl<,  and  speaks  of  him  as  put  to  death  in  Achaia,  on  a  cross  of  the  form 
since  known  by  his  name.  The  incidental  notices  of  the  others,  in  the 
Gospels,  are  very  slight,  and  need  not  be  anticipated.  Philip  is  said,  in 
the  ecclesiastical  legends,  to  have  been  a  chariot  driver;  Bartholomew,  a 
shepherd  or  a  gardener.  But  no  name  is  more  striking  in  the  list  than 
that  of  Simon  the  Zealot,  for  to  none  of  the  Twelve  could  the  contrast 
be  so  vivid  between  their  former  and  their  new  position.  What  revolution 
of  thought  and  heart  could  be  greater  than  that  which  had  thus  changed 
into  a  follower  of  Jesus,  one  of  the  fierce  war  party  of  the  day,  who  looked 
on  the  presence  of  Eome  in  the  Holy  Land  as  treason  against  the  Majesty  of 
Jehovah — a  party  who  were  fanatical  in  their  Jewish  strictness  and  exclu- 
siveness  ?  Like  many  others  of  the  Twelve,  he  is  little  more  than  a  name. 
Indeed,  even  in  the  second  century,  tlie  vaguest  traditions  were  all  that 
survived  of  any  but  two  or  three  of  them.  They  were  men  of  no  high  com- 
manding powers,  to  make  their  names  rise  on  all  men's  tongues,  but  they, 
doubtless,  in  every  case  but  that  of  the  betrayer,  did  their  work  faithfully, 
and  effected  results  of  permanent  value  in  the  spread  of  the  Kingdom.  Still 
more,  they  displayed  before  the  world,  for  the  first  time,  the  then  amazing 
spectacle  and  teaching  of  a  Christian  life.  That  we  know  so  little  of  men 
who  were  such  signal  benefactors  of  the  race,  is  only  what  we  have  to  ponder 
in  the  cases  of  those  to  whom  the  world  has  owed  most.  It  is  the  law, 
in  the  moral  as  in  the  physical  world,  that  one  sows  and  another  reaps, 
and  the  seed  which  bears  the  golden  cars  has  long  died  away  unremembered, 
before  the  gathering  of  the  autumn  sheaves. 

It  is  touching  to  think  of  Jesus  surrounded  by  the  little  band  He  had 
thus  chosen — simple,  true-hearted  men,  indeed,  but  needing  so  much  to  fit 
them  for  their  amazing  honour  and  momentous  duties.  No  wonder  they 
were  timid  and  reverent  before  Him ;  no  wonder  that  He  was  so  sorely 
tried  Avith  their  dull  apprehension  and  weak  human  shortcomings,  as  to 
speak  sternly  or  sadly  to  them  at  times ;  once  indeed,  with  the  words,  "  O 
unbelieving  generation,  hoAV  long  shall  I  be  with  you,  how  long  shall  I 
suffer  you  ?  "  He  calls  them  "  of  little  understanding,"  "  hardened,"  "  fear- 
ful," "  worldly,"  and  "  of  little  faith."  But  amidst  all,  they  "  continued 
with  Him  in  His  trials  "  till  the  end,  and  He  fors-ot  their  failinii;s  in  tlie 
tender  thought,  that  if  their  flesh  was  weak,  their  spirit  was  willing.  They 
were  His  "  brethren,"  His  "  servants,"  His  "  fellow-workers,"  His  "  little 
children,"  His  "little  ones,"  and,  even,  as  the  end  approached,  "His 
friends."  He  might,  at  times,  have  to  reprove  them,  but  His  bearing 
towards  them,  day  by  day,  was  a  loving  condescension  to  their  weakness, 
and  a  patient  effort  to  draw  them  to  Himself,  as  far  as  possible.  There  is 
no  trace  of  such  formal  instruction  as  the  Eabbis  give  their  followers ; 
they  had  rather  to  listen  to  His  words  to  the  people,  and  ask  Him  in  pri- 
vate for  explanation,  Avhere  needed.  He  rather  trained  and  developed  their 
spiritual  character,  than  indoctrinated  them  in  systematic  theology.  Above 
all.  He  lived  before  them,  and  was  Himself  their  great  lesson.  Nor  can 
there  be  a  more  striking  illustration  of  the  completeness  with  which  they 
forgot  their  own  being  in  the  presence  of  their  Master,  than  the  silence  of 


THE    CHOICE    OF    THE    TWELVE.  381 

the  wi'iters  of  the  Gospels  respecting  themselves  in  their  records  of  Jesus. 
He,  alone,  filled  their  eye,  their  thoughts,  their  hearts.  They  had  been 
like  children  before  Him,  while  He  was  with  them,  and  in  the  hallowed 
reverence  of  their  remembered  intercourse.  His  image  filled  the  whole 
retrospect,  to  the  utter  subordination  of  all  things  else.  The  months  they 
had  spent  in  His  company  under  the  palm-trees,  or  on  the  hills,  or  by  the 
sea ;  when  they  breathed  the  same  air  with  Him,  heard  His  voice,  saw  His 
life,  and  wondered  at  His  mighty  acts— raised  them,  in  their  own  belief, 
above  the  prophets  and  the  kings,  who  had  longed  for  such  a  vision  of  the 
Messiah,  but  had  not  had  it  vouchsafed  them. 

Of  the  preaching  of  Jesus,  the  Gospels  preserve  numerous  fragments, 
but  no  lengthened  abstract  of  any  single  discourse,  except  that  of  the 
"  Sermon  on  the_Mouiit."  It  seems  to  have  been  delivered  immediately 
after~the  choice  of  the  Twelve,  to  the  disciples  at  large  and  the  multitude 
who  thronged  to  hear  the  new  Eabbi.  Descending  from  the  higher  point 
to  which  He  had  called  up  His  Apostles,  He  came  towards  the  crowd, 
which  waited  for  Him  at  a  level  place  below.  There  were  numbers  from 
every  part — from  Judea  and  Jerusalem  in  the  south,  and  even  from  the 
sea-coast  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  ;  some  to  hear  Him,  others  to  be  cured  of  their 
diseases,  and  many  to  be  delivered  from  unclean  spirits.  The  commotion 
and  excitement  were  great  at  His  appearance,  for  it  had  been  found  that 
to  touch  Him  was  to  be  cured,  and  hence,  all  sought,  either  by  their  own 
efforts  or  with  the  help  of  friends,  to  get  near  enough  to  Him  to  do  so. 
After  a  time,  however,  the  tumult  was  stayed,  all  having  been  healed,  and 
He  proceeded,  before  they  broke  up,  to  care  for  their  spiritual,  as  He  had 
already  for  their  physical,  wants. 

Tradition  has  chosen  the  hill  known  as  the  "  Horns  of  Hattin,"  two 
horn-like  heights,  rising  sixty  feet  above  the  plain  between  them— two 
hours  west  of  Tiberias,  at  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  which  opens,  past  Mag- 
dala,  into  the  wild  cliffs  of  Arbela,  famous  in  the  history  of  the  Zealots  as 
their  hiding-place,  and  no  less  so  for  Herod's  battles  in  mid-air  at  the 
mouths  of  their  caves,  by  means  of  great  cages  filled  with  soldiers  let  down 
the  precipices.  It  is  greatly  in  favour  of  this  site,  to  find  such  a  writer  as 
Dean  Stanley  saying,  that  the  situation  so  strikingly  coincides  with  the 
intimations  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  as  almost  to  force  the  inference,  that, 
in  this  instance,  the  eye  of  those  who  selected  the  spot  was  rightly  guided. 
The  plain  on  which  the  hill  stands  i^  easily  accessible  from  the  lake,  and 
it  is  only  a  few  minutes'  walk  from  i^.  to  the  summit,  before  reaching 
which,  a  broad  "level  place  "has  to  be  ox'ossed — exactly  suited  for  the 
gathering  of  a  multitude  together.  It  was  to  this,  apjDarently,  that  Jesus 
came  down,  from  one  of  the  higher  horns,  to  address  the  people.  Seated 
on  some  slightly  elevated  rock — for  the  teacher  always  sat  while  he  taught 
— the  people  and  the  disciples  sitting  at  His  feet,  on  the  grass  ;  the  cloud- 
less Syrian  sky  over  them ;  the  blue  lake,  with  its  moving  life,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  in  the  far  north,  the  grand  form  of  Hermon,  glittering  in  the 
upper  air;— He  began  what  is  to  us  the  Magna  Charta  of  our  faith,  and  to 
the  liearers  must  have  been  the  formal  inauguration  of  the  new  Kingdom 
of  God. 


I 


382  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

The  choice  of  the  twelve  Apostles  and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  mark  a 
turning  point  in  the  public  life  of  Jesus.  A  crisis  in  the  development  of 
His  work  had  arrived.  He  had,  till  now,  taken  no  steps  towards  a  formal 
and  open  separation  from  Judaism,  but  had  contented  himself  with  gather- 
ino-  converts,  whom  He  left  to  follow  the  new  life  He  taught,  without  any 
organization  as  a  distinct  communion.  The  symptoms  of  an  approaching 
rupture  with  the  priests  and  Eabbis  had,  however,  forced  on  Him  more  de- 
cisive action.  He  had  met  the  murmurs  at  the  healing  of  the  paralytic, 
by  a  triumphant  vindication  of  the  language  which  had  given  offence.  The 
choice  of  a  publican  as  a  disciple,  immediately  after,  had  been  a  fui^ther 
expression  of  the  fundamental  opposition  between  His  ideas  and  those  of 
the  schools  and  the  Temple,  and  His  justification  of  the  disuse  by  His  dis- 
ciples of  the  outward  rites  and  forms  which  were  vital  in  the  eyes  of  the 
orthodoxy  of  the  day,  had  been  another  step  in  the  same  divergent  path. 
He  had  openly  sanctioned  the  omission  of  fasts,  and  of  mechanical  rules 
for  prayer,  which  were  sacred  with  the  Eabbis.  He  had  even  set  the  old 
and  new  order  of  things  in  contrast,  and  had  thus  assumed  independent 
authority  as  a  religious  teacher ;  the  sum  of  all  offence  in  a  rigid  theocracy. 

The  choice  of  the  Twelve,  and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  were  the  final 
and  distinct  proclamation  of  His  new  position.  The  Apostles  must  have 
seemed,  to  a  Jew,  the  twelve  patriarchs  of  a  new  spiritual  Israel,  to  be 
substituted  for  the  old ;  the  heads  of  new  tribes,  to  be  gathered  by  their 
teaching,  as  the  future  people  of  God.  The  old  skins  had  been  proved 
unfit  for  the  new  wine ;  henceforth,  new  skins  must  be  provided ;  new  forms 
for  a  new  faith.  The  society  thus  organized  needed  a  promulgation  of  the 
laws  under  which  it  was  to  live,  and  this  it  received  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount. 

The  audience  addressed  consisted  of  the  newly  chosen  Twelve ;  the 
u,nknown  crowd  who  heard  Him  with  favour,  and  were,  hence,  spoken  of 
as  His  disciples ;  and  the  promiscuous  multitude,  drawn  to  Him,  for  the 
time,  by  varioiis  motives.  Jesus  had  no  outer  and  inner  circle,  for  public 
and  secret  doctrines,  like  the  Eabbis ;  for,  though  He  explained  to  the 
Twelve,  in  'private,  any  points  in  His  discourses  they  had  not  understood, 
the  discourses  themselves  were  delivered  to  all  who  came  to  hear  them. 
This  Sermon,  which  is  the  fullest  statement  we  hav-e  of  the  nature  of  His 
kingdom,  and  of  the  condition  and  duties  of  its  citizenship,  was  spoken 
under  the  open  sky,  to  all  who  happened  to  form  His  audience. 

In  this  great  declaration  of  the  principles  and  laws  of  the  Christian 
republic — a  republic  in  the  relations  of  its  citizens  to  each  other,  a  king- 
dom, in  their  relations  to  Jesus — the  omissions  are  no  less  striking  than 
the  demands.  There  is  no  reference  to  the  priests  or  Eabbis — till  then 
the  undisputed  authorities  in  religion — nor  is  the  rite  of  circumcision  even 
mentioned,  though,  as  a  mere  theocratic  form,  it  made  the  Jew  a  member 
of  the  Old  Covenant,  apart  from  moral  requirements.  It  is  not  con- 
denmcd,  but  it  is  ignored.  Till  now,  a  vital  condition  of  entrance  into  the 
kingdom  of  God,  it  is  so  no  longer.  Nor  are  any  other  outward  forms 
more  in  favour.  The  New  Kingdom  is  to  be  founded  only  on  righteous- 
ness and  love,  and  contrasts  with  the  old  by  its  spiritual  freedom,  un- 


THE    CHOICE    OF   THE    TWELVE.  383 

trammelled  by  outward  rules.  It  opposes  to  the  nationality  and  limitation 
of  the  old  theocracy,  a  universal  invitation,  with  no  restriction  except  that 
of  character  and  conduct.  Citizenship  is  offered  to  all  who  sincerely  be- 
lieve in  Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  and  honestly  repent  before  God.  Even  the 
few  opening  sentences  mark  the  revolution  in  religious  conceptions  which 
the  new  faith  involves.  Temporal  evil,  which,  under  the  former  dispen- 
sation had  been  the  mark  of  Divine  displeasure,  became,  in  the  teaching 
of  Christ,  the  mark  of  fellowship  and  pledge  of  heavenly  reward.  The 
opinion  of  the  day  regarded  poverty,  hunger,  trouble,  and  persecution  as 
punishments  for  sin  :  He  enumerates  them  as  blessings.  Throughout  the 
whole  Sermon,  no  political  or  theocratic  ideas  find  place,  but  only  spiritual. 
For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  religion,  a  communion  is  founded  with- 
out a  priesthood,  or  offerings,  or  a  Temple,  or  ceremonial  sei'vices  ;  with- 
out symbolical  worship  or  a  visible  sanctuary.  There  is  an  utter  absence 
of  everything  external  or  sensuous  :  the  grand  spiritual  truths  of  absolute 
religious  freedom,  love,  and  righteousness,  alone  are  heard.  Nor  is  the 
kingdom,  thus  set  up,  in  itself  visible  or  corporate,  in  any  ordinary  sense ; 
it  is  manifested  only  by  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  in  the  heart,  and  by  the 
power  going  forth  from  it  in  the  life.  In  the  fine  words  of  Herder,  Chris- 
tianity was  founded  in  direct  opposition  to  the  stupid  dependence  on 
customs,  formuljB,  and  empty  usages.  It  humbled  the  Jewish,  and  even 
the  Eoman  national  pride :  the  moribund  Levitical  worship  and  idolatry, 
however  fanatically  defended,  were  wounded  to  death. 

Nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that  Jesus  had  never  studied  under 
the  Sopherim,  or  scribes.  His  contemporaries,  the  Eabbis  of  Jerusalem, 
leave  no  doubt  of  this,  for  they  fra,nkly  avowed  their  wonder  at  His  know- 
ledge of  their  theology  and  power  of  Scriptural  exposition,  though  He 
had  never  learned  theological  science  in  their  schools.  The  same  minute 
acquaintance  with  the  opinions  and  teachings  of  the  day  is  seen  through 
the  whole  of  the  Hill  Sermon.  Apart  from  His  mysterious  divinity.  He 
was  a  man  like  ourselves,  "  growing  in  wisdom "  with  His  years,  and, 
therefore,  indebted  in  a  measure,  at  least,  to  the  influences  and  means 
around  Him,  for  His  human  knowledge  and  opinions.  It  speaks  volumes 
for  His  early  training  by  His  mother  and  Joseph,  that  He  should  have 
known  the  Scriptures  as  Ho  did,  for  it  is  in  childhood  that  the  memory 
gets  the  bent  which  marks  its  strength  in  manhood.  The  synagogue 
school,  and  constantly  recurring  services,  must,  however,  have  been  the 
great  seminary  of  the  wondrous  Boy.  Passages  of  the  Law  had  been  His 
only  school-book,  and,  no  doubt,  the  village  teacher,  steeped  in  reflected 
Eabbinism,  had  often  flattered  his  harmless  vanity  by  a  display,  before 
his  young  charge,  of  his  knowledge  of  the  traditions  and  glosses,  which 
won  so  much  honour  to  the  scribes.  The  Sabbath  and  week-day  homilies 
of  the  synagogue  had  made  Him  a  constant  listener  to  local  or  travelling 
Rabbis,  till,  in  the  thirty  years  of  His  Nazareth  life.  His  mind  and  memory 
must  have  been  saturated  with  their  modes  of  thought  and  the  opinions 
of  all  the  different  schools.  Theology,  moreover,  was  tlie  staple  of  village 
conversation  in  Nazareth,  as  elsewhere,  for  the  religion  of  a  Jew  was  also 
his  politics,  and  the  justification  of  his  haughty  national  pride.     Doubt- 


384  THE    LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

less,  also,  iu  Joseph's  cottage  there  was  a  manuscript  of  the  Law ;  and  a 
soul  filled  with  devotion  to  His  Heavenly  Father,  like  tliat  of  Jesus,  would 
find  some  of  the  Prophets,  either  there  or  among  His  family  friends. 
Eabbis  from  Jerusalem,  or  resident  iu  Galilee,  must  often  have  come  in 
His  way  during  the  thirty  private  years,  and  how  much  would  such  a 
mind  and  heart  learn  of  their  "  wisdom,"  even  in  casual  intercourse  ?  His 
clearness  of  intellect,  His  transparent  innocence  of  soul.  His  freedom  of 
spirit,  and  transcendent  loftiness  of  morals,  were  all  His  own,  but  they 
must  have  used,  for  their  high  ends,  the  facilities  around  Him.  The  very 
neighbourhood  of  a  heathen  population  may  have  had  its  influence  in 
breaking  down  the  hereditary  narrowness  of  His  race,  and  who  can  tell 
what  ardours  may  have  been  kindled  by  the  wondrous  view  from  the  hill- 
top of  Nazareth  ?  Free  from  all  thought  of  Himself ;  filled  with  a  Divine 
enthvisiasm  for  His  Father  above,  and  for  humanity ;  these  mountains, 
that  azure  sky,  the  sweejoing  table-land  beyond  the  Jordan,  the  wide  glory 
of  heaven  and  earth,  veiling,  above,  the  eternal  kingdoms,  and,  at  His 
feet,  revealing  the  enchanting  homes  of  wide  populations  differing  in 
blood  and  in  faith,  but  all  alike  His  brethren,  may  have  coloured  not  a 
few  of  the  sacred  utterances  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

This  unique  example  of  our  Saviour's  teaching  displays  in  one  view 
nearly  all  the  characteristics  presented  by  the  more  detached  illustrations 
preserved  in  the  Gospels.  Never  systematic,  the  discourses  of  Jesus  were 
rather  pointed  utterances  of  special  truths  demanded  by  the  occasion.  In 
perfect  inner  harmony  with  each  other,  these  sententious  teachings  at 
times  appear  to  conflict,  for  they  are  often  designed  to  present  opposite 
sides  of  the  same  truth,  as  required  by  the  distinct  point  to  be  met.  Tlie 
external  and  sensuous  in  all  His  teachings,  however,  was  always  made  the 
vehicle  of  an  inner  and  heavenly  lesson.  He  necessarily  followed  the 
mode  to  which  His  hearers  were  used,  and  taught  them  as  their  own 
Kabbis  were  wont,  that  He  might  engage  attention.  At  times  He  puts 
direct  questions  ;  at  others  He  is  rhetorical  or  polemic,  or  speaks  in  pro- 
verbs, or  in  more  lengthened  discourse.  He  often  uses  parables,  and 
sometimes  even  symbolical  actions;  is  always  spontaneous  and  ready; 
and  even,  at  times,  points  His  words  by  friendly  or  cutting  irony.  But 
while  thus  in  many  ways  adopting  the  style  of  the  Eabbis,  His  teaching 
was  very  different  even  in  outward  characteristics.  They  spoke  with  a 
slavish  adherence  to  traditional  antecedents,  overlaj'iug  every  address 
with  citations,  in  their  fear  of  saying  a  word  of  their  own;  but  the  teach- 
ing of  Christ  was  the  free  expression  of  His  own  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  this,  with  the  weight  of  the  teaching  itself,  gave  Him  power  over  the 
hearts  of  His  audience.  With  a  minute  and  exact  knowledge  of  the  theo- 
logy of  the  schools,  He  shows,  by  repeated  use  of  Eabbinical  proofs  and 
arguments,  that  He  was  familiar,  also,  with  the  current  modes  of  contro- 
versy. His  fervour,  His  originality,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  truths  He 
proclaimed,  were  enough  in  themselves  to  commend  His  words,  but  He 
constantly  supports  them  by  the  supreme  authority  of  the  Scriptures, 
which  were  familiar  to  Him  as  His  mother-speech.  Simple,  as  a  rule,  in 
all  He  says.  He  yet  often  opens  glimpses  into  the  infinite  heights,  where 


THE    SERMON   ON   THE    MOUNT.  385 

no  human  thought  can  follow  Him.  The  spirit  of  His  preaching  is  as 
transcendent  as  its  matter.  Tenderness  and  yearning  love  prevail,  but 
there  is  not  wanting,  wlien  needed,  the  sternness  of  the  righteous  judge. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  His  ministry,  and  notably  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  He  bears  Himself  with  a  kingly  grandeur,  dispensing  the  rewards 
and  punishments  of  the  world  to  come ;  opening  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
to  those  only  who  fulfil  His  requirements,  and  resting  the  future  prospects 
of  men  en  the  reception  they  give  His  words.  Even  to  read  His  utter- 
ances forces  from  all  the  confession  of  those  who  heard  Him,  that  "  Never 
man  spake  like  this." 


CHArTER  XXXVI. 

THE   SERMON   ON   TUE   MOUNT — Contlmiod. 

THE  opening  verses  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  mark  the  contrast 
between  the  New  Kingdom  of  God  and  the  Old.  There  is  no  mention 
of  forms,  for  the  whole  life  of  Jesus  was  one  unbroken  service  of  God. 
The  Temple  service,  and  the  burdensome  laws  of  sacrifices,  are  passed 
over,  for  the  Sermon  was  delivered  in  Galilee,  far  from  the  splendour  of 
the  one,  or  the  vexatious  minuteness  and  materialism  of  the  other.  The 
great  question  of  clean  and  unclean — which  divided  the  nation  within 
itself,  made  life  a  slavery  to  rules,  and  isolated  the  Jew  from  all  brother- 
hood with  humanity  at  large — is  left  to  sink  into  indifference  before  the 
grand  spiritual  truths  enunciated.  The  Law  came  with  threats,  prohibi- 
tions, and  commands ;  the  "  Sermon  "  opens  with  benedictions,  and  moves 
in  an  atmosphere  of  promises  and  enticements.  Its  first  sentences  are 
a  succession  of  lofty  congratulations  of  those  whose  spirit  and  bearing 
already  proclaim  them  fit  for  the  new  society. 

The  virtues  thus  praised  are  not  the  active  onlj^  but  the  passive ;  not 
those  only  of  doing,  but  of  bearing.  "  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  for 
theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven ;  blessed  the  meek,  for  they  will  inherit 
the  earth;  blessed  they  that  mourn,  for  they  will  be  comforted;  blessed 
they  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  for  they  will  be  satisfied ; 
blessed  the  merciful,  for  they  will  find  mercy ;  blessed  the  peace-makers, 
for  they  will  be  called  gons  of  God ;  blessed  they  that  have  been  persecuted 
for  righteousness'  sake,  for  theirs  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Blessed  are 
ye,  when  they  shall  reproach  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say  all  manner 
of  evil  against  you  falsely,  for  My  sake.  Rejoice  and  exult,  for  your 
reward  is  great  in  heaven ;  for  so  did  they  persecute  the  prophets  that 
were  before  you." 

The  mission  of  Christ  was  said  by  Himself,  in  a  quotation  from  Isaiah, 
to  be  to  preach  to  the  poor,  and  hence  it  is  with  no  surprise  that  we  find 
St.  Luke  substitute  simply  "  the  poor  "  for  the  "  poor  in  spirit,"  for  both 
are  right.  The  first  disciples  were  won  almost  exclusively  from  among 
the  lowly.  "  The  contented  poor,"  Jesus  would  here  say,  "  who  bear  their 
burden  meekly,  since  it  comes  from  God — those,  that  is,  who  are  '  poor  in 
spirit,' — have,  in  their  very  meekness,  the  sign  and  proof  that,  though 

c  c 


386  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

poor  in  outward  things,  they  are  rich  in  higher,  for  they  will,  so  much  the 
more  surely,  be,  hereafter,  the  opposite  of  what  they  are  now.  They  are 
the  poor  who  have  nothing  and  yet  have  all.  They  have  none  of  this 
world's  possessions,  and  have  not  yet  received  the  blessing  in  the  world  to 
come.  But  the  very  longing  for  the  future,  and  hope  of  it,  are  virtually  a 
present  possession.  Their  devout  poverty  is  their  wealth,  for  it  secures 
treasures  hereafter.  The  '  Kingdom  of  Heaven '  is  theirs  already."  This 
principle  runs  through  all  the  beatitudes.  As  Christ's  disciples,  the 
future  will  be  the  contrast  to  the  present;  riches  for  poverty;  joy  for 
mourning ;  plenty  for  hunger ;  a  heavenly  crown  for  earthly  suffering  for 
the  Master's  sake.  The  contrast  of  sin  and  pardon ;  the  lowly  sense  of 
needed  salvation,  which  already  has  in  itself  the  assurance  that  salvation 
is  granted,  are  implied  in  all  the  states  of  heart  recounted.  Through  all, 
there  is  the  deepest  sense  of  the  sinfulness  and  troubles  of  the  present, 
and  springing  from  this,  the  loftiest  religious  aspirations,  rising  far  above 
the  earth,  to  eternal  realities.  They  thus  disclose  the  inmost  and  central 
principle  of  the  new  Kingdom;  the  willing  and  even  joyful  surrender  of 
the  present,  in  lowly  hope  of  the  future — and  that  from  no  lower  motive 
than  loving  obedience  and  fidelity  to  Christ.  Immediate  self-interest  is 
to  be  disregarded,  for  the  infinitely  higher  prospects  of  the  future  world. 
The  one  passion  of  the  heart  is  to  be  for  greater  I'ighteousness, — that  is, 
for  an  ever  more  complete  self-surrender  to  the  will  of  God,  and  active 
fulfilment  of  its  demands.  Towards  Himself,  Jesus  claims  the  most  loyal 
devotion,  even  to  the  endurance  of  "all  manner  of  evil,"  for  His  sake.  To 
seek  happiness  is  to  fail  to  obtain  it,  but  self-surrender  to  God,  and  faith 
in  Christ  as  the  Messiah,  in  themselves  bring  it,  when  disinterested  and 
sincere. 

It  is  striking  to  note  the  anticipations  of  suffering  associated  by  Jesus 
with  true  discipleship.  It  is  assumed  as  the  inevitable  result.  He  holds 
out  no  attractions  to  insincerity  or  worldliucss  ;  but  at  the  very  outset,  fans 
the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  and  repels  all  but  the  earnest  and  devoted. 

Four  benedictions  are  bestowed  on  the  passive  virtues,  four  on  the 
active.  To  bear  poverty  with  lowly  resignation  to  God ;  to  mourn,  and 
yet  trust  that  all  is  for  the  best ;  to  reproduce  the  moekucss  which  Jesus 
Himself  displayed;  and  to  endure  trials  and  persecutions  loyally  for  His 
sake,  are  the  negative  graces  demanded  as  conditions  of  membership  of 
the  New  Kingdom.  But  active  virtues  are  no  less  required  :  the  hunger- 
ing and  thirsting  after  righteousness,  which  finds  its  food  in  fresh,  joyful, 
continuous  acts  of  goodness  ;  the  mercy  which  delights  to  bless  the 
wretched ;  the  purity  of  heart  which  strives  to  realize  in  the  soul  the 
image  of  God ;  and  the  gentleness  which  spreads  peace  around  it. 

The  key-note  of  all  the  utterances  of  Clu-ist  reveals  itself  in  these  few 
sentences.  His  kingdom  is  at  once  present  and  future  :  present  by  the 
nndoubting  faith  in  His  assurances  that  it  would  hereafter  assuredly  be 
attained  ;  future  in  the  fact  that  the  realization  of  its  joys  was  reserved 
for  the  life  to  come.  Unlike  John,  He  proclaims  that  the  time  of  expec- 
tation is  over:  that  the  New  Kingdom  has  already  come  as  a  living  power 
in  the  soul,  diffusing  its  blessings,  at  once  within  and  around  its  members. 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  387 

It  is  esfcablishod,  in  its  rights  and  duties,  to  develop  and  advance,  hence- 
forth, till  its  glory  cover  the  earth.  In  one  aspect,  it  is  incomplete  till  its 
full  realization  in  the  distant  future  ;  in  another  it  is  already  perfect,  for 
it  reigns  in  every  single  soul  which  has  humbly  accepted  Jesus  as  its 
King. 

After  this  introduction,  He  proceeds  to  enforce  on  His  disciples  the 
duties  of  their  new  relation  to  Him,  and  to  cheer  them,  by  recalling  the 
dignity  it  confers.  "  You  have  indeed,  good  cause  to  rejoice,"  says  He, 
"  and  to  be  brave  of  heart,  for  you  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  ;  the  light  of 
the  world;  a  city  set  on  a  hill."  Mere  ostentation,  or  insincere  parade  of 
virtue,  were  alihorrent  to  Him,  and  formed  His  great  charge  against  the 
acted  religion  of  the  day.  But  the  enthusiasm  of  true  goodness.  He  tells 
them,  must  of  necessity  be  seen  and  felt.  Life  is  shown  by  its  energy ; 
where  there  is  no  active  vital  power,  there  is  only  death.  He  prescribes 
no  lengthened  code  of  duties,  but  trusts  to  the  ardour  and  devotion  of 
loyalty  to  Himself,  as  a  perfect  equivalent.  Drawn  to  Him  as  they  were 
by  grateful  and  lowly  affection,  He  leaves  it  to  the  love  of  His  followers  to 
exceed  all  precise  directions,  and  outstrip  all  formal  requireinents.  His 
kingdom  is  as  strictly  under  law  as  any  other  ;  but,  for  the  endless  statutes 
of  earthly  monarchies,  and  the  equally  unnumbered  prescriptions  of  the 
old  theocracy.  He  substitutes  a  single  all-sufficing  law— the  law  of  love, 
which  makes  each  member  of  His  kingdom  a  law  to  himself.  All  are  to 
give  themselves  up  to  Him  as  unreservedly  as  He  has  given  Himself  up 
for  them. 

Intense  sincerity  is  thus  made  the  fundamental  demand,  and  His  own 
personal  example  their  standard  and  pattern.  To  be  the  light  of  the 
world,  they  must  needs  look  to  Him,  for  He  had  especially  applied  that 
name  to  Himself.  They  had  the  immense  advantage  of  example,  so  much 
more  effective  than  precept.  The  New  Kingdom  was  only  the  reflection 
of  His  own  character,  and,  thus.  His  commands  were  best  cai'ried  out  by 
imitating  His  life ;  for  He,  Himself,  was  the  one  perfect  illustration  of 
complete  fulfilment  of  its  laws.  No  grudging  or  partial  devotion  would 
suSice.  They  must  heartily  conform  their  inmost  being  to  His  image,  and 
shed  round  them,  in  their  respective  spheres,  the  spiritual  blessings 
which  beamed  brightest  from  Himself.  Thus  calmly,  and  as  His  natural 
right  and  place.  He  constitutes  Himself  the  grand  ideal  of  humanity,  and 
men  feel  that  there  is  no  rashness  or  incongruity  in  His  assumption  of  the 
stupendous  dignity. 

Failure,  however,  is  human,  and  hence  a  few  solemn  words  of  warning 
are  added.  "  Salt  keeps  and  makes  sound  what  would  else  corrupt.  But 
impure  salt  may  lose  its  saltness,  and  once  lost  it  cannot  be  restored. 
What  was  before  of  blessed  use,  is  henceforth  worthless,  and  may  be  cast 
out  upon  the  road,  to  be  trodden  under  foot.  If  you,  the  salt  of  the  earth, 
lose  your  spiritual  worth,  by  faint-heartedness,  or  sloth,  or  dark  unfaith- 
fulness, your  needed  energy  and  efficiency  are  irreparably  gone.  Who 
will  take  your  place  ?  You  will  be  no  longer  fit  for  the  work  I  have 
assigned  you.  If  the  salt  be  pure,  it  will  not  lose  its  power  ;  it  is  the 
earth  and  impurities  mixed  with  it,  that  make  it  worthless ;  and  so  you 


388  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

must  put  away  all  that  miglit  make  you  go  back,  if  you  would  be  true 
discii^les.  Your  lasting  worth  depends  on  your  devotion  to  Me  being 
unqualified  and  absolute.  You  are  to  enlighten  men  as  the  sun  enlightens 
the  world.  I  am  the  Light  of  the  world  :  you  shine  by  My  light  :  see  that, 
in  turn,  you  illumine  the  darkness  round  you.  A  light  is  to  shine,  not  to 
be  hidden.  Like  a  lamp  on  its  stand,  it  is  your  office  to  shed  light,  and 
drive  off  darkness.  The  beams  of  your  good  works  must  shine  before 
men,  that  they  may  honour  God,  your  Father,  in  Heaven.  Like  a  city  set 
on  a  hill,  you  arc  to  draw  on  you  all  eyes." 

Passing  from  general  principles  to  specific  details,  Jesus  now  proceeded 
to  show  the  relations  of  His  New  Kingdom  to  the  old  theocracy.  The 
charge  of  hostility  to  the  Law  had  been  brought  against  Him,  and  would 
be  urged  against  His  disciples.  He  would  show  them  that  the  new  roots 
itself  in  the  old,  and  is  its  completion  and  glory,  not  its  destruction. 

"  Think  not,"  said  He,  "  that  I  came  to  supersede  your  ancient  Scrip- 
tures—the Law  and  the  Prophets.  I  came  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil. 
Worthless  forms,  worn  out  with  age,  may  perish,  and  must ;  but  not  the 
least  jot  or  tittle  of  the  sacred  truths  they  for  a  time  have  clothed,  shall 
pass,  while  heaven  or  earth  endure.  The  forms  are  not  the  Law.  Eites 
and  ceremonies  ai-e  only  helps,  for  simple  ages,  which  need  material 
symbols.  The  kingdom  of  God  has  now  outgrown  them.  The  truth  must 
henceforth  stand  alone,  appealing  to  the  spirit  without  such  outward  aids. 
Local  and  national,  they  have  served  their  day,  but  the  New  Kingdom  of 
God,  which  is  for  all  times  and  races,  knows  only  a  worship  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.  So  far  am  I  from  slighting  or  destroying  the  truth  hidden 
under  these  outward  forms,  that  he  who  breaks  one  of  the  least  spiritual 
demands  of  the  Law,  and  teaches  men  to  copy  him  in  doing  so,  shall  be 
called  least  in  my  kingdom ;  while  he  who  obeys  and  teaches  them  as  a 
whole,  shall  be  called  great  in  it.  The  Law  is  for  ever  sacred.  I  only 
strip  it  of  its  outward  accidents,  to  reveal  the  better  its  Divine  glory. 
Spoken  by  God,  it  is  eternal.  I  come  to  do  ib  honour ;  to  confirm,  but  also 
to  clear  it  from  human  additions  and  corruptions." 

Jesus,  in  thus  speaking,  had  a  very  different  conception  of  the  Law 
from  that  of  the  Eabbis.  To  Him  it  meant  the  sacred  moral  commands 
given  froin  Sinai.  The  whole  apparatus  of  ceremony  and  rite  at  first  con- 
nected with  them,  were  only  rude  external  accommodations  to  the  child- 
hood of  religion,  to  aid  the  simple  and  gross  ideas  of  early  ages.  Looking 
beneath  the  symbol  to  the  essential  truth,  it  was  a  lofty,  religious,  moral, 
and  social  legislation,  far  deeper,  wiser,  holier,  and  more  complete  than 
the  highest  human  system.  He  knew  how  the  prophets  had  drawn  from 
it  the  pure  and  exalted  conceptions  they  had  enforced,  anticipating  in 
their  spirituality  His  own  teaching.  But  centuries  lay  between  Him  and 
the  prophets,  and  Judaism  had  sunk  to  a  painful  idolatry  of  the  letter  and 
outward  form  of  the  Law,  to  the  neglect  of  its  spirit  and  substance.  The 
Exile  had  weakened  and  perverted  the  national  conscience,  and  a  burning 
zeal  for  rigid  external  observance  of  the  letter  had  followed  the  just  belief 
that  their  national  troubles  had  been  a  punishment  for  previous  short- 
comings. 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  389 

The  Pharisees,  who  gave  the  tone  to  the  people,  filled  up  their  life  with 
a  weary  round  of  offerings,  ceremonies,  and  purifications  ;  and,  not  content 
with  the  prescriptions  of  Moses,  had  added  a  tedious  system  of  meritorious 
Avorks— fasts,  Avashings,  alms,  and  prayers.  The  Essenes,  and  still  more, 
John,  had  turned  back  from  this  barren,  mechanical  piety,  to  the  purer  air 
of  the  2:)rophcty,  and  had  taught  that  righteousness,  love,  and  human 
sympatliy,  were  the  highest  requirements  of  the  Law.  But  the  veil  was 
still  on  their  eyes ;  their  reforms  were  partial.  The  Essenes  had  even  more 
washings  tlian  the  Pharisees  ;  they  eschewed  marriage,  property,  and  the 
world,  and  the  Baptist  fasted,  and  imposed  Pharisaic  rites.  Jesus  pierced 
to  the  heart  of  the  truth.  Stripping  off  all  obsolete  wrappings  of  form 
and  symbol,  and  repudiating  all  human  additions,  He  proclaimed  the  Law 
in  its  Divine  ideal,  as  binding  for  ever,  in  its  least  part,  on  all  ages. 

His  supreme  loyalty  to  the  Law  could  not  fail,  in  a  spii'it  so  divinely 
sincere,  to  involve  a  condemnation  of  its  corruption  by  the  religious 
teachers  of  the  day.  It  followed  presently :  "  Except  your  righteousness 
exceed  that  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees,"  He  continued,  "  ye  will  not 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  He  charges  them  not  only  with 
breaking  the  commandments  themselves,  by  their  subtle  casuistry  and 
their  immoral  additions,  but  with  leading  men  at  large  in  the  same  evil  path. 

The  fundamental  principle  of  the  Pharisaic  conception  of  righteousness 
which  Jesus  thus  strenuously  opposed,  was  tlieir  idea  that  strict  obser- 
vance of  the  traditions  and  commands  of  their  schools  in  itself  satisfied 
the  requirements  of  God.  Fulfilment  of  what  was  written  in  the  Law  and 
its  Eabbinical  expositions,  was,  in  their  opinion,  only  a  question  of  punc- 
tilious outward  observance.  They  weakened  the  conception  of  moral  evil 
by  specious  sophistical  discriminations.  In  trifles,  the  most  exact  minute- 
ness was  required  ;  but  in  greater  inatters  the  principles  of  morality  were 
boldly  undermined  or  surrendered.  The  tithing  of  mint,  dill  and  cummin 
—mere  garden  herbs — was  vital,  but  grave  questions  of  right  and  wrong 
were  treated  with  indifference.  This  moral  prudery  and  pedantry,  which 
strained  the  wine  before  drinking  it,  lest  a  fly  might  have  fallen  into  it  and 
made  it  unclean,  but  made  no  trouble  of  swallowing  a  camel,  was  the  hypo- 
critical risjliteousness  against  which  Jesus  directed  His  bitterest  words. 
With  all  their  lip  veneration  for  the  Law,  they  set  little  value  on  the  study 
of  it,  but  much  on  that  of  the  commentaries  of  the  Rabbis  ;  now  embodied 
in  the  Mishn?  and  Gemara.  The  Eabbinical  tradition  so  amplified  and 
twisted  the  woi'ds  of  the  Law  as  to  make  it  express,  in  many  cases,  the 
opposite  of  its  natural  meaning.  Religion  had  become  almost  wholly  a 
mechanical  service,  without  reference  to  the  heart.  As  in  other  theocratic 
communities,  a  man  might  be  eminently  religious,  in  the  Pharisaic  sense, 
and  yet  utterly  depraved  and  immoi'al.  The  teaching  o£  the  prophets, 
which  deinanded  internal  godliness,  was  slighted,  and  the  study  of  their 
writings  almost  entirely  put  aside  for  that  of  the  legal  traditions  and  of 
the  Law.  The  desire  to  define,  to  the  smallest  detail,  what  the  Law 
required,  had  led,  in  the  course  of  ages,  to  a  mass  of  confiicting  Rabbinical 
opinions,  which  darkened  rather  than  explained  each  command.  The 
"  hedge  "  round  the  Law  had  proved  one  of  thorns,  for  Rabbis  and  people 


390  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

alike.  The  question  was,  not  what  was  right  or  wrong,  but  Avhat  the  Law, 
as  expounded  by  the  Eabbis,  demanded,  and  zeal  was  stimulated  by  the 
mercenary  expectation  of  an  equivalent  reward,  for  scrupiilous  exactness 
in  fulfilment. 

A  better  illustration  of  the  moral  worthlessness  of  the  Pharisaic  ideas  of 
righteousness  could  hardly,  perhaps,  be  found,  than  in  the  fact  that,  with 
all  their  ostentatious  reverence  for  the  Scriptures,  he  who  touched  a  copy 
of  them  Avas  thereby  made  unclean.  "  According  to  you,"  said  the  Sad- 
ducees  of  their  rivals,  "  the  Scriptures  defile  the  hands,  while  Homer  does 
not."  The  skins  on  which  the  sacred  books  were  written  might  have  been 
those  of  an  unclean  beast,  or,  at  least,  they  were  part  of  a  dead  body.  But 
the  Pharisees  had  their  retort  ready.  "  Why,"  asked  they,  "  are  the  bones 
of  an  ass  clean  and  those  of  the  high  priest,  John  Hyrcanus,  unclean  ? '' 
"  It  is  the  kind  of  bone  that  determines  the  uncleanness,"  answered  the 
Sadducces,  "  else  Ave  would  make  spoons  of  the  bones  of  our  relatives  !  " 
"  Just  so,"  retorted  the  Pharisees,  "  it  is  the  value  we  attach  to  the  Scrip- 
tures which  has  made  us  decide  that  they  defile  the  hands,  while  Homer  does 
not."  They  worshipped  the  letter,  but  misconceived  the  essence  of  Scrip- 
ture ;  treated  morality  as  a  trifle,  and  trifles  as  the  only  religion.  Fired  in 
their  early  days  by  a  true  zeal  for  God,  they  had  now  degenerated,  as 
a  body,  into  mere  "  actors."  "  There  were  plenty  of  Pharisees,"  says  even 
Jost,  himself  a  Jew,  "  who  used  the  appearance  of  piety,  as  a  cloak  for 
shameful  ends."  Nor  did  this  escape  the  people,  especially  as  these  hypo- 
crites sought  to  attract  attention  by  exaggei'ated  displays — and  contemp- 
tuous bynames  wei'e  presently  given  them.  The  name  of  Pharisee  came  to 
be  like  that  of  Jesuit  on  the  lips  of  friends  or  opponents.  Even  Philo  does 
not  mention  it,  and  it  soon  died  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  people,  and 
survived  only  as  a  term  of  the  schools. 

With  a  system  so  utterly  hollow,  and  yet  so  deeply  rooted  in  popular 
favour,  Jesus  could  hold  no  terms.  With  the  better  side  of  Pharisaism  He 
had  much  in  common,  but,  as  it  showed  itself,  in  its  growing  corruption, 
He  could  only  condemn  it.  Zealots  for  words  and  forms  ;  lofty  in  abstract 
views  ;  the  mouthpiece  of  the  nation  at  large,  in  its  religious  and  political 
aspirations  ;  there  must,  nevertheless,  have  been  little  real  soundness  in  a 
body,  of  which  a  spirit  so  gentle  as  that  of  Christ  could  speak  as  whited 
sepulchres  and  a  generation  of  vipers. 

To  illustrate  His  meaning,  Jesus  proceeds  to  give  examples  of  Pharisaic 
abuse  of  the  Law,  holding  up  what  is  implied  in  its  due  observance,  that 
he  may  show  how  it  was  broken  by  its  professed  zealous  defenders.  The 
sublime  morality  of  the  IsTew  Kingdom,  with  its  lofty  spiritualization  of 
the  Law,  is,  He  implies,  the  true  conservatism— it  is  His  ojiponents  who 
are  undermining  it. 

The  Mosaic  prohibition  of  murder  had  been  limited  by  the  Eabbis  to 
literal  homicide,  and  they  had  added  to  the  brief  words  of  the  Law,  that 
the  criminal  was  in  danger  of  the  judgment  of  God  in  some  cases,  and  of 
the  Sanhedrim  in  others.  But  this  did  not  satisfy  the  high  spirituality 
of  the  New  Kingdom.  It  included  in  the  brief  utterance  of  God,  through 
Moses,  a  condemnation  even  of  angry  words  or  thoughts.     "  I  say  unto 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  391 

3011,  that  every  one  who  is  angry  with  his  brother  will  be  liable  to  the 
judgment  of  God;  and  whosoever  shall  express  contempt  for  liis  brother, 
will  be  liable  to  the  Sanhedrim  ;  and  whosoever  shall  say,  Thou  worthless 
one,  will  be  lial^le  to  hell  fire.  I  go  beyond  the  scribes,  for  I  declare,  as 
the  fulfiller  of  the  Law,  that  unrighteous  anger  is  worthy  of  the  full 
punislimcnt  they  attach  to  its  overt  result  in  homicide ;  nay,  more,  I 
decltire  the  expression  of  such  anger  in  bitter  words  as  incurring  the 
danger  of  hell.  Not  to  love  one's  '  brother  '  is,  with  me,  the  essence  of  the 
crime  condemned  by  the  Law  :  the  lesser  expressions  of  anger  I  denounce 
as  worthy  of  Divine  punishment  in  this  world;  in  the  worst  cases,  as 
worthy  of  punishment  in  the  world  to  come."  Anger  with  a  brother 
entails  the  anger  and  judgment  of  God  :  public  reproach  merits  a  public 
penalty,  but  he  who  would  consign  another  to  hell  is  himself  in  danger  of 
being  sent  thither.  Ho  does  not  suppose  His  disciples  could  possibly  com- 
mit the  crime  of  murder,  or  even  break  into  open  violence,  but  He  ranks 
the  passions  which  lead  to  them  in  others  as  equal  in  guilt.  He  charges 
the  murder,  not  against  the  hand  that  strikes,  but  the  heart  that  hates. 

This  was  startling  enough,  but  the  application  made  of  it  must  have 
sounded  no  less  so.  "  Only  the  pure  in  heart  can  see  God,  and  hence  it  is 
A-ain  for  you  to  seek  His  presence  by  an  offering,  if  you  have  in  any  way 
thus  offended.  If  you  have,  and  in  the  solemn  moment  of  appearing 
before  God  remember  it — evil  thougli  men  think  it  to  break  off  or  interrupt 
a  sacrifice — leave  your  offering  before  the  altar  ;  seek  him  whom  you  have 
wronged,  and  be  reconciled  to  him,  and  then,  come  and  offer  your  gift. 
You  have  wronged  God,  not  man  onlj'.  Beware  lest,  if  you  do  not  make 
peace  with  Him,  by  instant  atonement  to  your  brother.  He  act  to  you  as  a 
creditor  does  with  a  debtor  he  meets  in  the  street — whom  he  delivers  up 
to  the  judge,  and  whom  the  judge  hands  over  to  the  oSicer  to  cast  into 
prison.  I  tell  you,  if  God  thus  lot  His  anger  kindle  upon  you,  you  will  not 
come  out  till  you  have  paid  the  last  farthing !  " 

The  Pharisaic  doctrine  of  marriage  offences  and  divorce  was  next  un- 
sparingly condemned,  as  an  inadequate  expression  of  the  spirit  of  the  Law. 
It  restricted  adultery  to  the  crime  itself,  and  it  sanctioned  divorce  at  the 
mere  whim  of  the  husl)and.  Doubtless  individual  Eabbis  represented 
healthier  views  than  others,  but  they  did  not  affect  the  prevailing  tone. 
As  with  homicide,  so,  in  adultery,  the  morality  of  the  New  Kingdom 
traced  the  crirae  home  to  the  heart,  and  condemned  the  unclean  glance  as 
a  virtual  commission  of  the  crime  itself.  The  thoughts  were  nothing,  in 
the  loose  morality  of  the  day ;  but  Jesus  arraigns  the  secret  lust  of  the 
breast,  with  an  earnestness  unknown  to  the  Eabbis.  Unconditional  self- 
mortification  is  to  be  carried  out,  when  guilty  thouglits  imperil  the  soul. 
"  If  your  right  eye,"  says  He,  "  or  your  right  hand,  your  sight  or  your 
touch,  lead  you  into  temptation,  it  is  better  for  you  to  pluck  out  the  one, 
and  cut  off  the  other,  rather  than  be  led  astray,  and  not  only  lose  a  share 
in  My  kingdom,  but  be  cast  into  hell  hereafter,"  Not  that  He  meant  this 
in  a  hard  and  literal  sense.  With  Him  the  sin  is  in  the  heart ;  but  the 
senses  are  its  instruments,  and  no  guard  can  be  too  strict,  no  self-restraint 
too  great,  if  spiritual  purity  be  endangered. 


392  THE    LIFE    OP    CHRIST. 

The  Pharisaic  laws  of  divorce  were  shamefully  loose.  "If  any  one," 
said  the  Eabbis,  "  see  a  woman  handsomer  than  his  wife,  he  may  dismiss 
his  wife  and  marry  that  woman,"  and  they  had  the  andacity  to  justify  this 
by  a  text  of  Scripture.  Even  the  strict  Shammai  held  that  if  a  wife  went 
out  without  beine  shrouded  in  the  veil  which  Eastern  women  still  wear, 
she  might  be  divorced,  and  hence  many  Eabbis  when  they  went  out  locked 
up  their  wives  !  While  some  held  that  divorce  should  be  lawful  only  for 
adultery,  others,  like  Josephus,  claimed  the  right  to  send  away  their  wives 
if  they  were  not  pleased  with  their  behaviour.  The  school  of  Hillel  even 
maintained  that,  if  a  wife  cooked  her  husband's  food  badly,  by  over-saltiug 
or  over-roasting  it,  he  might  pub  her  away,  and  he  might  further  do  so 
if  she  were  stricken  by  any  grievous  bodily  affliction !  The  facility  of 
divo]-ce  among  the  Jews,  had,  indeed,  become  so  great  a  scandal,  even  to 
their  heathen  neighbours,  that  the  Rabbis  were  fain  to  boast  of  it  as  a 
privilege  granted  to  Israel,  but  not  to  other  nations  ! 

The  woman  divorced  was  at  once  free  to  marry  ;  her  letter  of  dismissal, 
signed  by  witnesses,  expressly  granting  her  the  liberty  to  do  so. 

Rising  high  above  all  this  festering  hypocrisy,  the  law  of  the  New 
Kingdom  sounded  oiit,  clear  and  decisive.  "  It  has  been  said  by  Moses," 
continued  Jesus,  "  Whosoever  shall  put  away  his  wife,  let  him  give  her  a 
bill  of  divorce.  But  I  say  unto  you.  That  whosoever  shall  put  away  his 
wife,  except  for  fornication,  causes  her  to  be  the  occasion  of  adultery  if 
she  marry  again,  for  she  is  still  a  wife ;  and  whosoever  marries  her,  Avhen 
thus  put  away,  commits  adultery." 

The  use  of  oaths  was  no  less  prevalent  in  Christ's  day  than  it  still  is  in 
the  East,  and  the  Rabbis  had  sanctioned  the  practice  by  laying  down 
minute  rules  for  its  regulation.  The  law  of  Moses  had  absolutely  for- 
bidden perjury,  but  the  casuistry  of  the  Rabbis  had  so  darkened  the  whole 
subject  of  oaths,  that  they  had,  in  effect,  become  utterly  worthless.  They 
were  formally  classed  under  different  heads,  in  Rabbinical  jurisprudence, 
and  subtle  refinements  opened  facilities  for  any  one  to  break  them  who 
wished.  Their  number  was  endless  ;  men  swore  by  heaven,  by  the  earth,  by 
the  sun,  by  the  prophets,  by  the  Temple,  by  Jerusalem,  by  the  altar,  by  the 
wood  used  for  it,  by  the  sacrifices,  by  the  Temple  vessels,  by  their  own  heads. 

By  joining  a  second  text,  from  a  different  part,  to  that  which  prohibited 
joerjury,  the  scribes  had,  in  effect,  opened  the  door  to  every  abuse.  To  the 
prohibition  of  Moses,  "Thou  shalt  not  swear  falsely,"  they  had  added  the 
charge,  "  but  shalt  perform  unto  the  Lord  thine  oaths  " ;  and  from  this  it 
was  argued  that  no  oath  was  binding,  either  personally  or  towards  others, 
which  had  no  vow  of  sacrifice  as  a  part  of  it,  or  if  the  vow  had  been 
punctually  fulfilled.  Any  oath,  any  deception  towards  God  or  man,  and 
even  2:)erjury  itself,  was  thus  sanctioned,  if  it  were  only  consecrated  and 
purified  by  an  offering.  The  garrulous,  exaggerating,  crafty  Jew  needed 
to  be  checked,  rather  than  helped  in  his  untruthfulness  ;  but  the  guardians 
of  the  purity  of  the  Law  had  invented  endless  oaths,  with  nice  discrimina- 
tions, and  verbal  shades  and  catches,  which  did  not  expressly  name  God, 
or  the  Temple,  or  the  altar,  and  these  the  people  might  use,  without 
scruple ;  mock  oaths,  harmless  to  themselves  and  of  no  binding  force  ! 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  393 

Against  such  equivocation  and  consecrated  hypocrisy  Jesus  lifted  His 
voice.  "I  say  unto  you,  swear  not  at  all;  neither  by  heaven,  for  it  is 
God's  throne;  neither  by  the  earth,  for  it  is  His  footstool;  nor  by  Jeru- 
salem, for  it  is  the  city  of  the  Great  King.  You  would  tremble  to  swear 
by  God !  but  when  you  swear  by  anything  connected  with  His  woi-ks  or 
His  worship,  you  swear,  in  reality,  by  Himself.  Nor  shall  you  swear  by 
your  head,  for  you  cannot  make  a  hair  of  it  white  or  black ;  and,  thus, 
your  oaths  by  it  arc  idle  words.  But  let  your  speech  be  simply,  yes,  and 
no,  for  what  exceeds  these  is  from  the  '  evil  one.'  As  My  disciples,  your 
word  is  enough :  speak  as  ever  in  the  presence  of  God." 

The  theory  of  life  under  the  New  Kingdom,  as  we  -have  seen,  was  the 
very  opposite  of  that  held  by  the  schools  of  the  day.  Prosperity,  with 
them,  was  an  unbroken  enjoyment  of  life  to  extreme  old  age,  abundance  of 
worldl}^  comforts,  contuiuous  success  in  all  undertakings,  and  triumphant 
victory  over  all  enemies.  All  this  was  expected  as  the  just  reward  of  a 
strict  obedience  to  Rabbinical  prescriptions,  which  constituted  the  "  right- 
eousness of  the  Law."  Jesus  held  forth  the  very  opposite  of  all  this  as 
the  blessedness  to  be  sought  in  the  New  Kingdom.  Poverty,  sorrow,  and 
persecution,  were  to  be  the  natural  lot  of  His  followers ;  but  their  tran- 
scendent reward  hereafter,  and  the  love  which  inspired  such  devotion, 
transfigured  these  to  gain  and  honour,  and  demanded  the  highest  joy. 

To  make  the  contrast  more  vivid  between  the  Old  Kingdom  and  the 
New,  he  had  added  "  woes  "  in  connection  with  all  that  the  former  had 
praised  as  specially  blessed.  The  rich,  who  have  their  reward  in  theii 
earthly  possessions  ;  the  prosperous,  who  care  for  nothing  except  this 
Avorld,  would  suffer  hunger  hereafter;  those  who  seek  only  for  present 
joy,  would  one  day  mourn  and  weep ;  those  whom  men  praise,  would  find 
the  praise  only  deceiving  flattery.  Patience,  humility,  gentleness,  resigna- 
tion, and  love,  the  virtues  and  rewards  of  the  soul,  were  to  characterize 
the  New  Israel ;  the  piety  of  form,  and  rewards  in  this  world,  were  dis- 
countenanced. The  New  Kingdom  was  to  win  "hearts  by  spiritual  attrac- 
tions, till  now  little  valued. 

As  a  practical  application  of  the  ideal  thus  sketched.  He  required  His 
followers  to  repudiate  the  Old  Testament  doctrine  of  retaliation,  with  the 
wide  elaborations  of  the  Rabbis,  and  to  adopt,  in  its  place,  the  principle 
of  overcoming  evil  with  good.  Antiquity,  both  Jewish  and  heathen, 
cherished  the  klea  of  revenge  for  injuries.  To  requite  like  with  like  was 
assumed  as  both  just  and  righteous.  Even  Socrates  had  no  higher  idea 
of  virtue  than  to  sui-pass  friends  in  showing  kindness,  and  enemies  in 
inflicting  hurt.  Plato,  indeed,  held  that  revenge  was  wrong,  and  that  no 
one  should  do  evil  on  any  ground ;  that  it  was  worse  to  do  wrong  than  to 
suffer  it,  and  that  the  virtuous  man  would  not  injure  any  one,  Ijecause  to 
do  so  injured  himself.  But  Plato  had  only  in  his  mind,  in  these  noble 
sentiments,  the  relations  of  Greek  citizens  to  each  other,  to  the  exclusion 
of  slaves  and  of  all  the  world  but  his  own  race ;  and  the  motive  for  his 
magnanimity  was  not  love  for  the  individual  man,  or  for  ideal  humanity, 
but  only  political  justice  and  right.  Roman  stoicism  rose  higher,  but  its 
injunctions  of   kindness  to  enemies  were  rather  the  expression  of  self- 


394  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST, 

approving  virtue  than  of  loving  moral  conviction.  Among  the  Jews, 
retaliation  had  the  sanction  of  Moses.  Eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,  hand 
for  hand,  foot  for  foot,  burning  for  burning,  wound  for  wound,  stripe  for 
stripe,  are  required  by  him.  The  stern  Sadducee  party  clung  to  the  letter 
of  the  Law,  but  the  milder  Pharisees  had  invented  a  scale  of  money  pay- 
ments instead.  As  in  our  own  Middle  Ages,  a  tariff  of  fines  was  con- 
structed for  each  personal  injury;  for  teai-ing  the  hair,  for  a  cuff  on  the 
ear,  a  blow  on  the  back,  spitting  on  the  person,  taking  away  an  under 
garment,  imcovering  a  woman's  head,  and  the  lilco.  The  value  of  a  hand, 
or  foot,  or  an  eye,  was  computed  by  the  depreciation  it  would  have  made 
in  the  value  of  a  slave.  A  blow  on  the  ear  was  variously  set  at  the  fine  of 
a  shilling  or  a  pound  :  a  blow  on  the  one  cheek  at  two  hundred  zuzees  ;  on 
both  cheeks,  at  double.  To  tear  out  hair,  to  spit  on  the  person,  to  take 
away  one's  coat,  or  to  uncover  a  woman's  head,  was  compensated  by  a 
payment  of  four  hundred  zuzees. 

This  rude  and  often  mercenary  softening  of  the  harshness  of  the  old 
Law  fell  wholly  below  the  requirements  of  the  N"ew  Kingdom.  Its  mem- 
bers must  suffer  wrong  patiently,  that  the  conscience  of  the  wrong-doer — 
become  its  own  accuser — might  be  won  to  repentance  by  the  lesson  of 
unresisting  meekness.  Christ's  own  Divine  charity  and  forgiveness  were 
to  be  repeated  by  His  followers.  Sin  was  to  be  conquered  by  being  made 
to  feel  tlie  power  of  goodness.  The  present  was,  at  best,  only  a  discipline 
for  the  future,  and  the  patient  endurance  of  wrong,  with  Christ-lili:e  love 
and  gentleness,  was  part  of  the  preparation  for  the  pure  joys  of  tiio 
Messianic  kingdom.  "  Ye  have  heard,"  said  He,  "  that  it  was  said.  An 
eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth.  But  I  say  iinto  you,  that  ye  resist 
not  the  evil  man ;  but  whosoever  smites  thee  on  the  right  cheek,  turn  to 
him  the  other  also.  And  to  him  who  desires  to  contend  with  thee  and 
take  thy  coat,  leave  him  thy  cloak  also.  And  whosoever  shall  press  thee 
one  mile,  go  with  him  two.  To  him  that  asks  thee,  give,  and  from  him 
that  desires  to  borrow  of  thee,  turn  not  away."  The  spirit  of  such  injunc- 
tions is  evident.  Hasty  retaliation;  readiness  to  stand  on  one's  rights  in  all 
cases ;  deliberate  revenge  rather  than  pity,  are  unworthy  a  member  of  the 
New  Kingdom.  It  is  for  him  to  teach  by  bearing,  yielding,  and  giving, 
and  not  by  words  only.  The  virtues  he  commends  he  is  to  illustrate.  But 
it  is  far  from  the  teaching  of  Christ  that  law  is  to  cease,  or  that  the 
evil-doer  is  to  have  everything  at  his  mercy.  Only,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
principle  of  His  kingdom  is  to  be  the  purest,  deepest,  self-sacrificing  love. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE   SERMON   ON   THE   BIOUNT — Conclndcd. 

TESUS  had  led  His  audience  steji  by  step  to  higher  and  higher  cou- 
^      ceptions,  and  now,  by  an  easy  transition,  raised  them  to  the  highest 
of  all. 
The  character  of  any  religion  depends  on  its  idea  of  God.     The  Jews 


THE    SERMON   ON    THE    MOUNT.  395 

had  no  loftier  thought  of  Him  thau  as  a  national  deity,  the  Fathei-  of  Israel 
and  of  its  proselytes,  but  not  the  God  of  the  world  at  large.  They  looked 
on  Him  also  as  a  jealous  God,  and  the  Pharisee  urged  himself  to  a  painful 
zeal  in  his  fulfilment  of  the  Law,  by  the  thought  that  the  sins  of  the 
father  were  visited  on  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  If  he  agonized  to 
carry  out  a  thousand  minute  prescriptions,  if  the  Essene  secluded  himself 
in  hurtful  loneliness,  if  the  Sadducee  toiled  to  discharge  all  that  was  re- 
quired in  the  service  of  the  Temple,  and  in  the  presentation  of  offerings, 
if  the  people  mourned  in  the  aj^prehension  that  God  had  forsaken  them,  it 
was  because  all  alike  looked  up  to  a  Being  who,  as  they  believed,  required 
what  they  could  scarcely  render.  They  should  have  drawn  other  con- 
ceptions from  their  ancient  Scriptures,  but  they  did  not.  They  had  alwaj^s 
learned  much  that  was  ti'ue  and  sublime  from  the  Law  and  the  Prophets — 
the  Majesty  of  God  and  the  dependence  of  the  creature — the  dignity  of 
man  as  the  Divine  image,  and  the  kingly  relation  of  Jehovah  to  Israel, 
His  son.  His  first-born.  His  bride,  His  spouse.  They  had  never  lost  the 
conviction  that  their  nation  could  not  jierish,  because  the  honour  of  God 
was  pledged  to  defend  it,  and  they  even  looked  forward,  with  a  frenzied 
earnestness,  to  a  future  when  He  would  send  His  Messiah,  and  raise  them 
above  all  the  nations.  As  Jews,  many  doubtless  drew  comfort  from  the 
Divine  words,  that,  like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth 
them  that  fear  Him.  But  their  theology  had  sunk  to  a  mere  mercenary 
relation  of  performance  and  reward.  The  idea  of  a  strict  return  of  good 
for  good,  or  evil  for  evil,  extended  to  the  next  world  as  well  as  this,  and,  at 
the  best,  God  was  only  the  Father  of  Israel,  not  of  mankind.  Still,  above 
all,  the  Master,  looking  for  service  from  man  as  the  servant — the  fond 
thought  of  His  fatherhood,  even  in  its  limited  national  sense,  grew  more 
and  more  common  as  Christ's  day  drew  near.  The  Jew  was  being  educated 
for  the  Divine  announcement  of  the  whole  truth. 

The  heathen  world,  also,  had  long  been  unconsciously  preparing  for  its 
proclamation.  Greek  philosophy  had  spoken  of  the  Father  of  gods  and 
men.  Man  was  the  Divine  image  and  of  Divine  origin — the  friend,  the 
fellow-citizen,  the  emanation,  the  son,  of  God.  A  generation  later,  in  an 
insincere  age,  when  fine  words  were  used  as  mere  rhetorical  flourishes, 
springing  from  no  conviction  or  earnestness,  Seneca  was  able  to  speak 
almost  like  a  Christian.  "  The  gods,"  said  he,  "  are  full  of  pity  and  friend- 
liness—do everything  for  our  good,  and  for  our  benefit  have  created  all 
kinds  of  blessings  with  exhaustless  bounty,  and  prepared  everything  for 
us  beforehand.  What  they  have  they  make  over  to  us  :  that  is  how  they 
use  things  ;  and  they  are  unwearied,  day  and  night,  dispensing  their 
benefits  as  the  protectors  of  the  human  race.  We  are  loved  by  them  as 
children  of  their  bosom,  and,  like  loving  parents,  they  smile  at  the  faults 
of  their  children,  and  cease  not  to  bestow  kindness  on  kindness  to  us ; 
give  us  before  we  ask,  and  continue  to  do  so,  although  we  do  not  thank 
them,  and  even  though  we  cry  out  defiantlj^  '  I  shall  take  nothing  from 
them  ;  let  them  keep  what  they  have  for  themselves  !'  The  sun  rises  over 
the  unjust,  and  the  seas  spread  out  even  for  sea  robbers.  The  gods  are 
easily  appeased, never  unforgiving;  how  unfortunate  were  we  if  they  were 


396  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

not  so  !  "  Thus  also  "  The  -way  of  man,  in  which  the  god-like  walks,  goes 
upwards  to  the  gods,  who  reach  out  the  hand  to  us  without  pride  or 
jealousy,  to  help  us  to  rise.  We  need  no  temple,  nor  even  to  lift  up  our 
hands  to  heaven :  God  is  near  thee  ;  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Watcher  over 
good  or  evil,  who  ever,  unweariedly,  leads  us  to  God."  Words  like  these 
sound  Christian,  though  we  know  that  they  were  only  artificial  rhetoric, 
composed  to  turn  aside  the  charge  of  worshipping  stocks  and  stones. 
Faith  in  the  divinity  often  gives  way,  in  Seneca,  to  haughty  pride  in 
humanity,  and  that  pride,  in  turn,  sinks  before  the  dark  future.  The  fancy 
played  over  the  dark  abyss  with  empty  words  of  comfort,  respecting  the 
father-like  gods  and  god-like  man,  but  even  prosperity  could  hardly  amuse 
itself  with  them,  and  the  hour  of  trial  repeated  them  with  hollow  laughter 
and  self-murder.  Yet  they  were  there  to  use  for  the  highest  good,  had 
men  chosen.  The  religious  education  of  the  world  had  gradually,  through 
long  ages,  become  ready  for  the  teachings  of  Jesus. 

When  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  was  delivered  every  sign  of  the  wrath 
of  God  with  the  nation  lay  on  it  like  a  burden,  and  per^jlexed  the  masters 
in  Israel.     Yet  it  was  then  that  Jesus  revealed  God  as  the  Father  of  men, 
who  had  loved  them  from  the  beginning  of  the  world ;  appealing  for  proof 
even  to  the  lilies  of  the  field  and  the  birds  of  the  air.     For  the  first  time, 
men  heard  that  their  whole  race  were  sons  of  the  great  heavenly  Father  ; 
that  the  world  lay  in  the  sunshine  of  His  eternal  love,  and  that  all  alike 
were  invited  to  seek  His  face.    It  was  the  fiirst  proclamation  of  a  universal 
religion,  and,  as  such,  an  event  unique  in  the  history  of  mankind.     In  the 
early  ages  of  the  world,  war  was  perpetual.     Even  after  men  had  long 
adopted   city  life   and  its  civilization,   a  stranger  and   an   enemy   were 
synonymous.     Thus,  in  the  first  ages  of  Borne,  a  stranger  who  had  not 
put  himself  formally  under  the  protection  of  some  Eoman,  had  no  rights 
and  no  protection.     What  the  Eoman  citizen  took  from  him  was  as  lawful 
gam  as  the  shell  which  no  one  owned,  picked  up  on  the  sea-shore.     He  was 
like  a  wild  beast,  to  be  hunted  and  preyed  on  at  any  one's  will.     To  use 
Mommsen's  figure,  a  tribe  or  people  must  be  either  the  anvil  or  the  ham- 
mer.    Ulysses  was  only  the  type  of  the  world  at  large  in  his  day,  when, 
m  the  early  part  of  his  wanderings,  he  landed  in  Thrace,  and  having  found 
a  city,  instantly  sacked  it  and  killed  all  the  inhabitants.    Where  there  was 
no  express  treaty,  plunder  and  murder  were  always  to  be  dreaded.     The 
only  safety  of  individuals  or  communities  was  their  own  capacity  of  self- 
defence.     As  tribes  and  clans  expanded  to  nations,  the  blood  connection 
secured  peace,  more  or  less,  in  the  area  they  occupied,  and,  ultimately,  the 
interests  of  commerce,  or  the  impulse  of  self-preservation,  joined  even 
states  of  different  nationalities  in  peaceful  alliances.     Isolated  nations, 
like  the   Jews,  still  kept   up  the   intense  aversion  to  all  but  their   own 
race,   but  the  progress   of    the  world  made  this  more  and  more  excep- 
tional. ' 

Before  the  age  of  Christ,  the  conquests  of  Eome  had  broken  down  the 
dividing  walls  of  nationality  over  the  civilized  earth,  and  had  imited  all 
lands  under  a  common  government,  which  secured  a  widespread  peace, 
hitherto  unknown.     Men  of  races  living  far  apart  found  themselves  free 


THE    SERMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  397 

to  compete  for  the  highest  honours  of  public  life  or  of  letters,  and  Eome 
accepted  men  of  genius,  and  even  emperors,  from  the  obscure  poi^ulations 
of  the  provinces. 

But  though  conquest  had  forced  the  nations  into  an  outward  unity,  there 
was  no  real  fusion  or  brotherhood.  Man,  as  man,  had  gained  nothing. 
The  barbarian  and  the  slave  were  no  less  despised  than  before,  and  had 
secured  no  more  rights.  The  Romans  had  been  forced,  for  their  own 
sakes,  to  raise  the  conquered  to  more  or  less  political  equality  with  them- 
selves, but  they  did  so  from  no  sentiment  of  respect  to  them  as  fellow-men, 
and  still  bore  themselves  towai-ds  them  with  the  same  haughty  superiority 
and  ill-concealed  aversion.  It  was  the  peace  of  political  and  even  moral 
death.  All  mankind  had  become  the  slaves  of  the  despot  on  the  Tiber. 
Ancient  virtues  had  passed  away,  and  vice  and  corruption,  unequalled 
perhaps  in  any  age,  lay  like  a  deadly  miasma  over  universal  society.  The 
union  of  the  world  was  regretted,  as  superseding  the  times  when  Rome 
could  indulge  its  tastes  in  war  and  plunder.  It  was  a  political  compre- 
hension, not  a  moral  federation.  The  hostility  of.  the  past  was  impossible, 
but  the  world  had  only  become  a  mob,  not  a  brotherhood,  of  nations,  and 
had  sunk  in  morality  as  it  had  advanced  in  outward  alliance. 

With  the  Jews,  the  old  hatred  of  all  races  but  their  own  had  grown  with 
the  calamities  of  the  nation.  It  seemed  to  them  a  duty  to  hate  the  heathen 
and  the  Samaritan,  but  their  cynicism  extended,  besides,  to  all  in  whom 
their  jealousy  for  the  honour  of  the  Law  saw  cause  for  dislike.  They 
hated  the  publicans;  the  Rabbi  hated  the  priest,  the  Pharisee  the  Sad- 
ducee,  and  both  loathed  and  hated  the  common  people,  who  did  not  know 
the  ten  thousand  injunctions  of  the  schools.  They  had  f&rgotten  what  the 
Old  Testament  taught  of  the  love  of  God  towards  men,  and  of  the  love 
due  by  man  to  his  fellow.  They  remembered  that  they  had  been  com- 
manded to  show  no  favour  to  the  sunken  nations  of  Caanan,  but  they 
forgot  that  they  had  not  been  told  to  hate  them.  The  Law  had  said, 
"  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself ; "  but  their  neighbour,  they 
assumed,  meant  only  a  Jew  or  a  proselyte,  and  they  had  added  that  they 
should  "  hate  their  enemies."  "  If  a  Jew  see  a  Gentile  fall  into  the  sea," 
wrote  Maimonides,  still  cherishing  the  old  feeling  centuries  later,  "  let  him 
by  no  means  take  him  out ;  for  it  is  written,  '  Thou  shalt  not  rise  up 
against  the  blood  of  thy  neighbour,'  but  this  is  not  thy  neighbour."  The 
spirit  of  revenge  which  jjrevailed,  embittered  even  private  life  among  the 
Jews  themselves.  Each  had  his  own  enemies,  whom  he  felt  free  to  hate 
and  to  injure,  and  all,  alike,  hated  whole  classes  of  their  own  nation,  and 
the  whole  heathen  races. 

Jesus  Avas,  now,  by  a  simple  utterance,  to  create  a  new  religious  era. 
"  Ye  have  heard,"  said  He,  "  that  it  was  said,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
and  hate  thine  enemy.  But  I  say  unto  you.  Love  your  enemies,  and  pray 
for  them  who  persecute  you ;  that  ye  may  become  sons  of  your  Father, 
who  is  in  heaven  ;  for  he  makes  His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  good,  and 
sends  rain  on  the  righteous  and  unrighteous.  For  if  ye  love  them  that 
love  you,  what  reward  have  ye  in  my  kingdom  ?  Do  not  even  the  hated 
publicans  the  same  ?     And  if  ye  salute  your  brethren  only,  Avhat  do  ye 


398  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

that  exceeds  ?  Do  not  even  the  heathen  Gentiles  the  same  thing  ?  Be  ye, 
therefore,  perfect,  as  your  heavenly  Father  is  perfect." 

It  was  a  new  era  for  man.  Heathenism  had  fme  sentiments,  but  they 
were  supported  by  no  high  morality,  and  no  living  hopes.  The  Old 
Testament  often  commended  kindness  and  mercy,  but  it  also  sanctioned 
revenge  and  triumph  over  the  fall  of  an  enemy,  and,  even  in  the  most 
attractive  passages,  it  seemed  as  if  piety  were  expected  to  make  the  anger 
of  God  on  one's  adversaries  the  more  certain.  But  Jesus  throws  down  the 
dividing  prejudices  of  nationality,  and  teaches  universal  love  without 
distinction  of  race,  merit,  or  rank.  A  man's  neighbour,  henceforth,  was 
every  one  who  needed  help,  even  an  enemy.  All  men,  from  the  slave  to 
the  highest,  were  sons  of  one  Father  in  heaven,  and  should  feel  and  act 
towards  each  other  as  brethren.  No  human  standard  of  virtue  would 
suffice ;  no  imitation  of  the  loftiest  examples  among  men.  Moral  perfection 
had  been  recognised,  alike  by  heathen  and  Jews,  as  found  only  in  likeness 
to  the  Divine,  and  that  Jesus  proclaims  as,  henceforth,  the  one  standard 
for  all  humanity.  AVith  a  sublime  enthusiasm  and  brotherly  love  for  the 
race.  He  rises  above  His  age,  and  announces  a  common  Father  of  all 
mankind,  and  one  great  si^iritual  ideal  in  resemblance  to  Him. 

With  this  grand  truth  of  Christianity  the  relation  of  man  to  his  Maker 
was  entirely  changed.  The  loyalty  of  a  child  to  a  father  took  the  place  of 
fear,  as  a  motive  to  His  service.  A  new  spiritual  kingdom  of  filial  love 
and  obedience  was  called  into  being,  with  tender  yearnings  after  Him,  and 
childlike  devotion  to  His  will — a  kingdom  in  which  the  humble,  the  meek, 
and  the  merciful  found  their  heaven,  and  in  which  all  who  hungered  and 
thirsted  after  righteousness  felt  that  they  could  bo  satisfied.  The  pure  in 
heart  were,  as  such,  its  citizens ;  the  souls  who  love  the  things  of  peace 
Avcre  called  its  children,  and  those  who  bore  persecution  and  sorrow  for 
the  sake  of  righteousness  were  to  inherit  it. 

To  be  "  perfect  as  the  great  Father  in  heaven  is  j^erfect,"  is  to  do  God's 
will  on  earth  as  the  angels  do  it  above,  and,  hence,  the  New  Kingdom  is 
thus  spoken  of  elsewhere.  It  was  to  be  wholly  spiritual,  in  contrast  to 
the  political  dreams  of  the  Pharisees.  They  had  transformed  the  predic- 
tions of  the  prophets  to  a  political  programme,  which  should  be  realized 
by  war  against  Eome,  and  zealous  agitation  against  the  Sadducean  aristo- 
cracy. They  thought  of  another  Maccabasan  war,  to  be  follou'ed  by  a 
revelation  of  the  Messiah  from  heaven.  The  kingdom  of  Jesus,  on  the 
contrary,  was  not  to  rise  like  a  state,  so  that  men  could  say  it  was  here,  or 
there,  because  it  was  already  in  their  midst.  It  could  not  be  otherwise. 
He  had  proclaimed  that  God  was  the  great  Father,  and,  as  such,  the 
loving,  fervent  desire  that  they  might  be  His  children  thrust  aside  the 
cold  thought  of  reward,  which  had  hitherto  ruled.  He  proclaimed  that 
God  loved  them,  not  in  return  for  their  services,  but  from  the  love  and 
tenderness  of  a  Father's  heart,  which  sent  forth  His  sun  over  good  and 
bad  alike,  and  rejoiced  more  at  a  sinner's  repentance  than  over  the  weary 
exactness  in  Rabbinical  rules  of  ninety  and  nine  who  thought  themselves 
righteous.  The  fundamental  principle  of  the  Judaism  of  the  day  was 
undermined  by  the  new  doctrine.     What  need  was  there  for  offerings,  for 


THE    SEEMON    ON    THE    MOUNT.  399 

Temple  ritual,  for  washings  or  fastings,  or  scrupulous  tithings,  when  the 
great  Father  sought  only  the  heart  of  His  penitent  child?  The  hope  of 
the  Eabbis  that  they  could  hold  God  to  the  fulfilment  of  what  they  thought 
His  promises,  if  only  the  Mosaic  ideal  of  the  theocracy,  in  their  sense,  was 
restored,  fell  to  the  ground.  The  isolation  of  the  Jews,  and  their  glory  as 
the  chosen  people  of  God,  were  things  of  the  past.  One  part  of  the  theo- 
cracy after  the  other  was  doomed  to  fall  before  this  grand  proclamation, 
for  its  foundations  were  sapped.  The  Fatherhood  of  God,  which  to-day 
falls  like  an  empty  sound  on  the  ear  of  the  miiltitude,  was,  at  its  first 
utterance,  the  creation  of  a  new  world. 

Jesus  had  now  set  forth  the  characteristics  of  citizenship  in  His  ISTew 
Kingdom,  and  the  new  law ;  He  passed,  next,  to  the  new  life.  A  warning 
was  needed  to  guard  His  followers,  in  their  religious  duties,  from  the 
abuses  of  the  Eabbinical  party. 

Almsgiving  had  been  exalted  by  the  scribes  to  an  act  in  itself  merito- 
rious befoi'e  God.  The  words  "  alms,"  and  "  righteousness,"  were,  indeed, 
used  interchangeably.  "  For  one  farthing  given  to  the  poor,"  said  the 
Eabbis,  "  a  man  will  receive  heaven."  The  words,  "  I  shall  behold  Thy 
face  in  righteousness,"  were  rendered  in  the  gloss  "because  of  alms." 
"  This  money,"  said  others,  "  goes  for  alms,  that  my  sons  may  live,  and 
that  I  may  obtain  the  world  to  come."  '"'  A  man's  table  now  expiates  by 
alms,  as  the  altar,  heretofore,  did  by  sacrifice."  "  He  who  gives  alms  will 
be  kept  from  all  evil."  In  an  age  when  the  religious  spirit  was  dead,  out- 
ward acts  of  religion  were  ostentatiously  practised,  at  once  to  earn  a 
reward  from  God,  and  to  secure  honour  for  holiness  fi'om  men.  Eeligion 
was  acted  for  gain,  either  present  or  future.  Against  such  hypocrisy, 
Jesus  warns  His  followers.  "  Take  heed  that  ye  do  not  your  righteousness 
before  men,  to  be  seen  by  them,  otherwise  you  have  no  reward  with  your 
Father  who  is  in  heaven."  They  were  not  to  draw  attention  to  their 
charity,  by  having  it  proclaimed  in  the  synagogue,  or  by  ostentatiously 
giving  it  in  the  streets,  to  earn  praise  of  meu,  but  v,'ere  to  hide  it  as  if 
they  would  not  even  let  their  left  hand  know  what  their  right  hand  was 
doing.  Sincerity,  only,  gave  charity  value.  The  amount  was  not  essen- 
tial :  the  spirit  was  all.  Insincerity  had  no  reward  but  the  empty  honour 
from  men,  got  by  deceit ;  sincerity  was  rewarded  by  their  Father  in 
Heaven,  who  saw  the  secret  deed. 

Even  prayer  had  become  a  formal,  mechanical  act,  prescribed  by  exact 
rules.  TheTiours,  the  matter,  the  manner,  were  all  laid  down.  A  rigid 
Pharisee  prayed  many  times  a  day,  and  too  many  took  care  to  have  the 
hours  of  prayer  overtake  them,  decked  in  their  broad  phylacteries,  at  the 
street  corners,  that  they  might  publicly  show  their  devoutness— or  went 
to  the  synagogue  that  the  congregation  might  see  it.  ISTor  were  they  con- 
tent with  short  prayers,  but  lengthened  their  devotions  as  if  to  make  a 
merit  of  their  duration.  Instead  of  this,  the  members  of  the  New  King- 
dom were  to  retire  to  strict  secrecy  when  they  prayed,  and  address  their 
Father  who  sees  in  secret,  and  He  would  reward  them  hereafter,  in  the 
future  world,  for  their  sincerity.  ISTor  were  they  to  use  the  foolish  repeti- 
tions in  vogne  with  the  heathen,  who  thought  they  would  be  heard  for 


400  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

their  much  speaking.  The  great  Father  knows  what  we  need  before  we 
ask  Him,  and  requires  no  lengtliened  petitions.  Prayer  in  the  congrega- 
tion is  not  forbidden,  for  Jesus  Himself  frequented  the  s}'nagogue,  and 
joined  in  public  devotions.  But  private  prayer  must  be  private,  to  guai-d 
against  human  weakness  corrupting  it  into  worthless  parade.  The  sim- 
plest, shortest  prayer,  unheard  by  human  ear,  is  accej^ted  of  God,  if  it  rise 
from  the  heart :  if  the  heart  be  wanting,  all  prayer  is  mere  form. 

It  is  always  much  easier,  however,  to  follow  a  pattern  than  a  precept, 
and,  hence,  Jesus  proceeded  to  set  before  them  a  model  prayer.  "  After 
this  manner,  therefore,  pray  ye.  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed 
be  Thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done,  as  in  heaven,  so  also 
on  earth.  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread.  And  forgive  us  our  debts  (to 
Thee),  as  we,  also,  have  forgiven  our  debtors.  And  lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  the  evil  one."  He  added  that  our  being 
forgiven  our  trespasses  by  God  depended  on  our  forgiving  men  theirs 
against  us. 

It  was  the  custom  of  every  Rabbi  to  teach  his  disciples  a  form  of  prayer, 
and  in  "  The  Lord's  Prayer,"  Jesus,  as  John  already  had  done,  followed 
the  example.  But  what  a  difference  between  His  model  and  that  of  other 
teachers  !  He  had  created  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  for  the  soul,  and 
in  this  prayer  the  mighty  revelation  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God  shines,  like 
a  sun,  over  all  humanity.  The  highest  conceivable  ideal  of  perfection  and 
felicity  for  the  race,  is  offered  in  the  will  of  the  Eternal  Father  being  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Childlike  trust  and  dependence  ask,  and  are 
contented  with,  daily  bounty  from  that  Father's  hand.  His  mercy  is 
pleaded  by  hearts  that  already  have  learned  to  show  it  to  others.  The 
spirit  stands  before  Him  clothed  in  humility,  and  full  of  love  and  tender- 
ness towards  its  fellows.  Conscious  weakness  stretches  out  its  hand  for 
heavenly  help,  distrusting  itself,  but  strong  in  a  Higher.  Each  clause, 
almost  each  word,  is  full  of  the  deepest  significance.  Each  is  filled  with 
Divine  light.  After  eighteen  centuries,  Christendom  knows  no  expression 
of  thoughts  and  feelings  so  full  in  so  small  a  compass ;  so  rich,  so  majestic 
in  praise  and  petition.  Hallowed  phrases,  current  in  His  day,  may  be 
quoted  as  parallels  of  single  parts,  but  He  alone  united  them  to  words  of 
His  own  with  a  breadth  and  solidity,  a  childlike  simplicity  and  wisdom,  a 
strength  and  lowliness  wholly  unknown  in  Jewish  literature. 

IJ^stjug  had  become  one  of  the  prominent  religious  usages  of  our 
Saviour's  day.  Though  only  one  fast  had  been  appointed  by  Moses-that 
of  the  Day  of  Atonement —the  Pharisees  had  added  numerous  others, 
especially  on  the  two  days  of  the  week,  Monday  and  Thursday,  on  which 
synagogue  worship  was  held.  VYhen  fasting,  they  strewed  their  heads 
with  ashes,  and  neither  washed  nor  anointed  themselves  nor  trimmed  their 
beards,  but  put  on  wretched  clothing,  and  showed  themselves  in  all  the 
outward  signs  of  mourning  and  sadness  used  for  the  dead.  Insincerity 
made  capital  of  feigned  humiliation  and  contrition,  till  even  the  Roman 
theatre  noticed  it.  In  one  of  the  plays  of  the  time,  a  camel,  covered  with  a 
mourmng  cloth,  was  led  on  the  stage.  "  Why  is  the  camel  in  mourning? " 
asked  one  of  the  players.     "  Because  the   Jews  are  keeping  the   Sabbath 


THE. SERMON    ON   THE    MOUNT.  401 

year,  and  grow  notliing,  but  arc  living  on  thistles.  The  camel  is  mourning 
because  its  food  is  thus  taken  from  it."  Eabbis  were  forbidden  to  anoint 
themselves  before  going  out,  and  it  was  recorded  of  a  specially  famous 
doctor,  that  his  face  was  alwaj-s  black  with  fasting.  All  pretence  was 
abhorrent  to  the  soul  of  Jesus,  especially  in  religion.  "  When  ye  fast," 
said  He,  "  be  not  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance ;  for  they  dis- 
figure their  faces,  that  they  may  appear  unto  men  to  fast.  Yerily  I  say 
unto  you.  They  have  their  reward.  But  do  thou,  when  thou  fastest,  anoint 
thine  head  and  wash  thy  face ;  that  thou  mayest  not  appear  unto  men  to 
fast,  but  to  thy  Father  who  is  in  secret,  and  thy  Father,  who  sees  in  secret, 
will  reward  thee."  To  seek  effect,  applause,  credit,  or  gain,  by  a  show  of 
godliness,  must  be  shunned  by  members  of  the  New  Kingdom.  It  would 
be  better  to  let  men  think  evil  of  them,  than  to  be  tempted  to  use  religion 
for  ulterior  ends.  True  pain  and  true  sorrow  hide  from  the  ej^e  of 
strangers  ;  they  withdraw  to  the  secrecy  of  the  l;rcast. 

He  had  already  spoken  of  the  need  of  care  in  the  right  use  of  the 
blessings  of  life ;  but  He  knew  our  proneness  to  forget,  and  returns  to  the 
subject  once  more.  "  Heap  not  up  for  yourselves,"  said  He,  "treasures  on 
earth,  where  moth  and  rust  consume,  and  where  thieves  break  through 
and  steal.  But  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven,  where  neither 
moth  nor  rust  consumes,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal. 
For,  if  3'our  treasure  is  on  earth,  your  heart  must  needs  be  careless  of 
heaven.  But  if  it  be  in  heaven,  your  hearts  will  be  there  also.  To  have 
it  there,  you  must  have  the  inner  light  in  your  souls,  your  mind  and  heart 
— bj-  which  3'ou  perceive  and  cherish  the  truth — unclouded.  H  they  be 
darkened,  it  will  turn  your  heart  away  from  the  right  and  Divine.  The 
body  without  the  eye  is  in  darkness  ;  for  light  enters  -only  by  the  eye,  as 
from  a  lamp.  When  your  eye  is  sound,  your  body  is  full  of  light ;  when  it 
is  darkened,  all  within  is  m'glit.     So  it  is  with  the  eye  of  the  soul." 

"  Do  not  fancy,"  he  continued,  "  that  you  can  strive  at  once  for  riches 
and  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  They  are  absolutely  opposed.  ISTo  man  can 
serve  two  masters  whose  interests  are  opposite.  Either  he  will  hate  the  one 
and  love  the  other,  or  he  will  hold  to  the  one  and  despise  the  other.  You 
cannot  worship  the  God  of  heaven,  and  Mammon,  the  god  of  wealth.  To 
serve  God,  and  yet  make  money  your  idol,  is  impossible  !  " 

"  An  undivided  heart,  which  worshijis  God  alone,  and  trusts  Him  as  it 
should,  is  raised  above  anxiety  for  earthly  wants.  Therefore,  I  say  unto 
you,  Be  not  anxious  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  nor  yet  for  your  body, 
Vvdiat  ye  shall  put  on.  Is  not  the  life  more  than  the  food,  and  the  body 
than  the  raiment  ?  Behold  the  birds  of  the  air ;  they  sow  not,  neither 
reap,  nor  gather  into  barns,  and  yet  your  Heavenly  Father  feeds  them. 
Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they?  Which  of  you,  by  anxious  thought, 
can  add  one  cubit  to  the  length  of  his  life  ?  And  about  raiment  why  are 
ye  anxious  ?  Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  fair  and  beautiful  they 
grow.  They  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet  Solomon,  in  his  royal 
robes,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.  But  if  God  so  clothe  the  grass 
of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  an  oven,  will  He 
not  much  more  clothe  you,  0  ye  of  little  faith  ?    Be  not,  therefore,  anxious, 

D   B 


402  THE   LIFE    or   CHRIS1\ 

saying,  Wliat  shall  we  eat,  or  what  shall  we  drink,  or  what  shall  wo  put 
ou  P  For  the  Gentiles  seek  after  all  these  things.  But  your  Heavenly 
Father  knows  that  ye  have  need  of  them.  Seek,  first,  His  kingdom  and 
righteousness,  and  they  shall  all  be  added  to  you.  Be  not,  therefore, 
anxious  for  the  morrow.  The  morrow  will  Lave  its  own  cares.  Each  day's 
evil  is  sufficient  for  the  day."  He  enjoins  not  idle  indifference  and  easi- 
ness of  temper,  but  the  freedom  from  care  of  a  soul  which  firmly  trusts  in 
the  Providence  of  God.  The  citizens  of  the  N'ew  Kingdom  might  well 
confide  in  their  Heavenly  Father,  and  amidst  all  the  trials  and  straits  even 
of  such  a  martyr  life  as  had  been  predicted  for  them,  might  and  should 
retain  calm  and  unshaken  confidence  in  the  sustaining  and  guiding  wis- 
dom and  love  of  God.  As  His  children,  they  had  an  express  right  to  look 
for  His  all-sufficient  care. 

No  vice  was  more  rank  among  the  Jews,  through  the  influence  of  theu^ 
priestly  and  Eabbinical  leaders,  than  narrovf  bigotry,  which  condemned 
all  opinions  varying  in  the  least  from  their  own.  They  were  trained  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  their  whole  religious  system,  in  its  minutest  forms 
and  rules— their  religious  thought,  faith,  and  life — had  been  revealed  by 
God  from  heaven.  They  were  a  nation  of  fanatics,  ready  to  fight  to  the 
death  for  any  one  of  the  ten  thousand  ritual  injunctions  of  their  religions 
teachers.  A  discourse  designed  to  proclaim  the  advent,  character,  and 
laws  of  the  new  theocracy,  could  not  close  without  touching  on  the  duties 
of  social  life,  and  laying  down  j^rinciples  for  guidance.  Christ  had  en- 
joined the  broad  law  of  gentle  love,  as  the  rule  for  intercourse  with  men 
at  large.     He  now  illustrates  it  in  additional  applications. 

"Judge  not,"  said  He,  "that  ye  be  not  judged  (by  God);  condemn  not, 
and  ye  shall  not  be  condemned ;  forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  forgiven.  For 
Avith  what  judgment  ye  judge  (men)  ye  shall  be  judged  (hereafter).  Give, 
and  it  will  be  given  to  you ;  good  measure,  pressed  down,  shaken  together, 
running  overj  Avill  they  give  into  your  bosom.  For  with  what  measure  ye 
mete,  it  shall  be  measured  to  you.  Be  charitable  respecting  the  errors 
and  shortcomings  of  others,  that  you  may  not  have  your  own  sins  brought 
against  you  at  the  great  day,  and  find  there  the  condemnation  you  have 
yourself  pronounced  here.  It  is  a  fearful  thing  for  you,  who  are  to  teach 
men,  to  fall  away  from  the  truth,  for  how,  then,  will  you  instruct  sinful 
men  aright  ?  H  the  blind  attempt  to  lead  the  blind,  both  fall  into  a  ditch; 
and  if  yourselves  be  wrong  you  cannot  lead  others,  Avho  know  nothing  of 
it,  to  the  salvation  of  the  New  Kingdom.  You  will  both  go  more  and 
more  hopelessly  astray  till,  at  last,  you  sink  into  Gehenna,  Those  you 
teach  cannot  be  wiser  than  you,  their  teachers,  for  a  disciple  is  not  above 
his  master,  but  comes,  at  best,  in  the  end,  to  be  like  him.  If,  then,  you 
would  not  be  blind  leaders  of  the  blind,  take  care,  before  you  essay  to 
judge  and  better  the  religious  state  of  others,  to  examine  your  own  spiritual 
condition,  and  reform  whatever  is  wrong  in  it.  Why  should  you  mark  the 
atom  of  straw  or  dust  that  is  in  your  Ijrother's  eye— his  petty  fault— if 
you  do  not,  in  your  self -righteousness,  see  the  beam  that  is  in  your  own 
eye  ?  Self-blinded  hyprocrite !  first  cast  the  beam  out  of  your  own  eye, 
and  then  you  will  see  clearly  to  cast  the  mote  out  of  your  brother's  eye." 


THE   SEEMON   ON   THE   MOUNT.  403 

"  You  v.-ill  meet  with  men,"  He  coutiiuied,  "  who,  wlieu  the  Divine  truth 
is  offered  them,  will  only  profane  it  —men  utterly  imgodly  and  hardened, 
who  wilfully  reject  the  counsel  of  God,  with  blasphemy,  mocking,  and 
slandering.  Do  not  put  it  in  their  power  to  dishonour  it.  To  do  so  is 
like  casting  a  holy  thing  to  the  street  dogs,  or  throwing  pearls  before  wild 
swine,  who  would  only  trample  them  under  their  feet,  as  worthless,  and 
turn  against  yourselves  and  rend  you." 

"  You  will  need  help  from  God  in  your  great  task;  for  your  own  spiritual 
welfare,  and  for  success  in  your  work.  Ask,  therefore,  and  it  will  be  given 
you ;  seek,  and  ye  will  find ;  knock,  and  it  will  be  opened  to  you.  For 
every  one  that  asks  receives ;  and  he  that  seeks  finds ;  and  to  him  that 
knocks  it  shall  be  opened.  If  your  son  ask  bread,  do  you  mock  him  by 
giving  him  a  stone  ?  or,  if  he  ask  a  fish,  do  you  mock  him  by  giving  him 
a  serpent  ?  or,  if  he  ask  an  egg,  will  you  give  him  a  scorpion  ?  You  need, 
then,  have  no  fear  of  refusal  of  spiritual  help  from  your  heavenly  Father, 
for  if  you  who  are  sinful,  though  members  of  the  New  Kingdom,  would  not 
think  of  refusing  to  supply  the  wants  of  your  children,  far  less  will  your 
Father  above  refuse  you.  His  spiritual  children,  what  you  need." 

Jesus  had  now  come  to  the  close  of  His  exposition  of  the  nature  and 
duties  of  His  kingdom,  and  ended  His  statement  of  them  by  a  brief  re- 
capitulation and  summary  of  all  He  had  said  of  the  latter,  in  their  relation 
to  men  at  large.  "  All  things,  therefore,  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  also  so  to  them,  for  this  is  the  Law  and  the  Pro- 
phets." The  Law  had  said,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself," 
but  it  had  meant  by  neighbour  a  Jew  or  a  proselyte,  and  had  commanded 
the  extirpation  of  the  Canaanites,  and  sanctioned  merciless  war  with  the 
heathen  around.  These  grand  words  were,  therefore,  a  rule  for  the  nation 
towards  its  own  members,  but  no  great  laAV  for  mankind.  But  Jesus 
ignores  this  narrowness,  and  proclaims  all  men  brethren,  as  common 
children  of  one  Father  in  Heaven.  This  golden  rule  had  been  proclaimed 
more  or  less  fidly  before.  It  is  found  in  Socrates  and  Menander,  and 
even  in  the  Chinese  classics.  Philo  quotes,  as  an  old  Jewish  saying,  "  Do 
not  to  others  what  you  would  be  unwilling  to  suffer ;  "  and  the  Book  of 
Tobit  enjoins,  "  Do  that  to  no  man  which  thou  hatest."  In  the  generation 
before  Jesus  it  had  been  repeated  by  Hillel  to  a  heathen,  who  mockingly 
asked  him  if  he  could  teach  him  the  whole  Law  while  he  stood  on  one  foot. 
"What  you  would  not  like  done  to  yourself,  do  not  to  tliy  neighbour," 
replied  the  Kabbi — "  this  is  the  whole  Law  :  all  the  rest  is  a  commentary  on 
it — go,  learn  this."  But,  as  Hillel  gave  it,  this  noble  answer  was  only  mis- 
leading. It  was  striking  to  find  a  Rabbi  with  such  enlightened  insight 
into  the  essence  of  the  Law,  as  to  see  that  all  its  ordinances  and  rites 
had  a  moral  end  ;  but  it  was  also  much  more  than  a  mere  code  of  morals 
between  man  and  man.  Its  fitting  summary  is  much  rather  that  central 
requirement  uttered  each  day,  even  now,  by  every  Jew  in  his  prayers — - 
"  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thine  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  might."  Morality,  apart  from  its  religious  basis 
and  supreme  enforcement,  degrades  the  Law  to  a  level  with  the  common 
moi'ality  of  the  world  at  large.     It  was  reserved  for  Jesus  to  announce  our 


404  TUB    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

duty  to  man  in  its  subordination  to  our  higher  rchition  to  God;  to  make 
it  only  part  of  that  filial  love  which  reflects  on  all  our  Ijretlu-en  the  tender- 
ness it  feels  supremely  towards  their  Father  and  ours,  in  Heaven.  With 
Him,  love  of  universal  humanity  has  its  deep  religious  ground  in  the  love 
of  God— whom  we  are  to  resemble — towards  all  the  race,  as  His  children. 
The  love  of  man,  He  tells  us,  is  the  second  great  commandment,  not  the 
first ;  it  is  the  moon  shining  by  light  borrowed  from  that  Sun.  The 
highest  of  the  Eabbis  cannot  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  Son  of  Mary  ! 

He  had  reached  His  peroration.  It  remained  only  to  add  solemn  warn- 
ings, and  these  He  now  gave.  "  Enter  in,"  said  He,  "  through  the  narrow 
gate,  for  narrow  is  the  gate  and  straitened  is  the  way  of  self-denial  and 
struggle  that  leads  to  life,  and  few  there  are  that  find  it.  But  wide  is  the 
gate  and  broad  is  the  vray  of  sin  that  leads  to  destruction,  and  those  who 
enter  through  it  arc  many.  Beware  of  false  teachers,  who  would  turn  you 
aside  from  the  safe  road.  They  will  come  to  you  affecting  to  be  my  fol- 
lowers, but  they  will  be  only  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing.  You  will  know 
thorn  fully  by  their  fruits— that  is,  by  their  lives.  Do  men  gather  grapes 
off  thorns,  or  figs  off  thistles  ?  So,  every  good  tree  brings  forth  good 
fruit ;  but  the  corrupt  tree  brings  forth  evil  fruit.  The  good,  out  of  the 
good  treasure  of  the  heart,  bring  fortli  that  which  is  good ;  and  the  evil 
man,  out  of  the  evil,  brings  forth  that  which  is  evil ;  for  out  of  the  abund- 
ance of  the  heart  liis  mouth  siDeaks.  A  good  tree  cannot  bring  forth  evil 
fruit ;  neither  can  a  corrupt  tree  bring  forth  good  fruit.  Have  nothing  to 
do  with  them,  and  do  not  follow  them,  for  every  tree  that  brings  not  forth 
good  fruit  is  cut  down  and  cast  into  the  fire.  So,  then,  by  their  fruits  ye 
will  know  them  fully. 

"  Nor  is  the  danger  of  being  led  astray  bj^  false  teachers,  light,  for  not 
all  who  acknowledge  me  as  their  Master  will  enter  into  the  glory  of  the 
heavenly  Kingdom,  but  those  only  who  do  the  will  of  My  Father,  who  is 
in  heaven.  Many  will  say  to  me  in  that  day,  '  Lord,  Lord,  did  we  not 
teach  in  Thy  name  confessing  Thee  as  Jesus  Messias,  and  by  the  power  of 
Thy  name  cast  out  devils,  and,  by  the  same  power,  did  we  not  do  many 
mighty  works,  owning  Thee,  and  working  through  Thee,  in  all  things  ? ' 
And  then  shall  I  say  unto  them',  '  I  never  knew  you  :  depart  from  me,  ye 
that  work  iniquity.'  Take  warning,  for  even  some  of  you  call  me  Lord, 
Lord,  and  do  not  the  things  which  I  say." 

That  one  in  the  position  of  Jesus — an  unknown  Galila3an  ;  untrained  in 
the  schools  ;  in  early  manhood ;  with  no  suppoi^t  from  the  leai'ned  or  the 
powerful— should  have  used  such  words,  in  a  discourse  so  transcendently 
lofty  in  its  teachings,  is  to  be  explained  only  on  the  ground  that  He  spoke 
with  a  Divine  consciousness  of  being  the  Messiah,  who  should  hereafter  be 
the  Judge  of  mankind.  He  calmly  founds  a  kingdom  in  which  the  only 
rewards  and  punishments  are  those  of  the  conscience  here,  and  those  of 
eternity,  after  death.  He  bears  Himself,  and  speaks,  as  a  King ;  super- 
sedes or  perfects  the  laws  of  the  existing  theocracy  as  He  thinks  best ; 
invites  adherents,  but  warns  off  all  except  the  truly  godly  and  sincere, 
by  holding  out  the  most  discouraging  prospects  through  life  ;  keeps  aloof 
from  the  civil  or  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  acts  independently  of  both. 


THE    SEEMON    ON   THE    MOUNT.  405 

Finally,  as  the  one  law  of  His  invisible  kingdom  in  the  souls  of  men,  He 
requires  supreme  love  and  devotion  to  Himself,  and  demands  that  this  be 
shown  by  humble  and  continuous  efforts  after  likeness  to  God,  and  by  the 
imitation  of  His  own  pure  and  universal  love  to  mankind.  To  have  con- 
ceived a  spiritual  empire  so  unique  in  the  histoiy  of  religion,  is  to  have 
proved  His  title  to  His  highest  claims. 

His  concluding  words  are  in  keeping  with  these.  He  had  announced 
that  He  would  judge  the  world  at  the  great  day,  and  now  makes  hearty 
acceptance  and  performance  of  His  commands  the  condition  of  future  sal- 
vation or  ruin.  "  Every  one,  therefore  (now,  or  hereafter),  who  hears  these 
sayings  of  mine  and  obeys  them,  is  like  a  man,  who,  in  building  a  house, 
digged  deep,  and  laid  a  foundation  upon  the  rock.  And  the  Aviuter  rains 
fell,  and  the  torrents  rose,  and  the  storms  jjlew,  and  beat  upon  that  house, 
and  did  not  shake  it,  because  it  was  well  built,  and  had  been  founded  upon 
the  rock.  But  every  one  who  hears  them,  and  does  not  obey  them,  is  like 
a  foolish  man,  who,  without  a  foundation,  built  his  house  upon  the  sandy 
earth.  And  the  rain  descended,  and  the  torrents  rushed  down,  and  the 
winds  blew,  and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  straightway  it  fell,  and  the  ruin 
of  that  house  was  great." 

No  wonder  that,  when  He  had  finished  such  an  address,  the  multitudes 
were  astonished  at  His  teaching.  They  had  been  accustomed  to  the  tame 
and  slavish  servility  of  the  Rabbis— with  their  dread  of  varying  a  word 
from  precedent  and  authority ;  their  cobwebbery  of  endless  sophistries 
and  verbal  trifling  ;  their  laborious  dissertations  on  the  infinitely  little  ; 
their  unconscious  oversight  of  all  that  could  affect  the  heart ;  their  indus- 
trious trackings  through  the  jungle  of  tradition  and  prescription — and  felt 
that  in  the  preaching  of  Jesus,  they,  for  the  first  time,  had  something  that 
stirred  their  souls  and  came  hom.e  to  their  consciences.  One  of  the  Rabbis 
had  boasted  that  every  verse  of  the  Bible  was  capable  of  six  hundred 
thousand  different  explanations,  and  there  were  seventy  different  modes 
of  interpretation  current,  but  the  vast  mass  of  explanations  and  interpre- 
tations were  no  better  than  pedantic  folly,  concerning  itself  with  mere 
insignificant  minutiaj  which  had  no  bearing  on  religion  or  morals.  Instead 
of  this,  Jesus  had  spoken  as  a  legislator,  vested  with  greater  authority 
than  Moses.  To  transmit,  unchanged,  the  traditions  received  from  the 
past,  Avas  the  one  idea  of  all  other  teachers  ;  but  He,  while  reverent, 
was  not  afraid  to  criticize,  to  reject,  and  to  supplement.  To  venture  on 
originality  and  independence  was  something  hitherto  unknown. 

The  life  of  Jesus,  in  all  its  aspects,  is  the  great  lesson  of  humanity :  His 
death  is  its  hope.  But  there  lies  a  wondrous  treasure  in  His  words. 
^Vhat  but  a  pure  and  sinless  soul  could  have  conceived  such  an  idea  of 
God  as  the  Father  of  mankind,  drawing  us  to  Himself  by  the  attraction  of 
holy  and  exhaustless  love  ?  "  It  could  only  rise,"  saj's  Hausrath,  "  in  a 
spirit  that  stood  pure,  guiltless,  and  sinless  before  God — a  spirit  in  which 
all  human  unrest  and  disturbance  were  unknown,  on  which  there  lay  no 
sense  of  the  littleness  of  life,  no  distracting  feeling  of  disappointed  am- 
bition. Sinful  man,  with  a  stain  or  even  uneasy  conscience,  will  always 
think   of    God  as   jealous,  wrathful,  and  about  to  avenge  Himself.     The 


406  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

revelation  that  God  is  the  Tather  of  meu  could  rise  only  in  a  mind  in 
which  the  image  of  God  mirrored  itself  in  calm  completeness,  because  the 
mirror  had  no  specks  to  mar  it.  The  revelation  of  G-od  as  tlie  Father  is 
the  strongest  proof  of  the  absolute  perfection  of  the  human  nature  in 
Jesus." 

"  He  has  left  us  not  only  a  life,  but  a  rich  world  of  thought,"  says  Keim, 
"  in  which  all  the  best  inspirations  and  longings  of  mankind  meet  and  are 
reflected.  It  is  the  expression  of  the  purest  and  directest  trutlis  which 
rise  in  the  depths  of  the  soul,  and  they  are  made  common  to  all  mankind 
by  being  uttered  in  the  simplest  and  most  popular  form." 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

OPEN    CONFLICT. 

JESUS  had  now  been  some  months  in  Galilee,  and  the  season  of  the 
great  feasts  had  returned.  It  was  meet  that  Judea,  which  had  re- 
jected Him  when  He  first  preached  in  it,  should  be  once  more  visited,  and 
the  news  of  the  Kingdom  once  more  sent  abroad  among  the  throngs 
of  pilgrims  from  every  part  of  the  world,  attracted  at  such  times  to 
Jerusalem. 

Leaving  the  north,  therefore,  for  a  time,  He  again  journeyed  south ; 
perhaps  by  short  stages,  preaching  as  He  went ;  perhaps  with  one  of  the 
bands  of  pilgrims  which  gathered  from  each  neighbourhood  to  go  ujd  to 
"  the  House  of  the  Lord."  No  voice  would  join  with  so  rapt  a  devotion  in 
the  joyful  solemnities  of  such  a  journey, — in  the  psalms  that  enlivened  the 
way, — or  the  formal  devotions  of  morning  and  evening.  But  what  feast 
it  was  He  thus  honoured  is  not  told,  nor  are  there  means  for  deciding. 
That  of  Purim,  a  montli  before  the  Passover,  the  Passover  itself,  Pente- 
cost, and  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  have  each  found  favour  on  plausible 
grounds  ;  but  where  there  is  such  contrariety  of  opinion,  the  safest  course 
is  to  leave  the  matter  unsettled. 

Of  the  visit  we  know  only  one  incident,  but  it  was  the  turning  point  in 
the  life  of  Our  Lord. 

Jerusalem  in  those  days  was  a  contrast,  in  its  water  supply,  as  in  much 
else,  to  the  fallen  glory  of  its  present  condition.  Several  natui^al  springs 
seem  to  have  flowed  in  the  city  or  near  it,  in  ancient  times,  but  they  have 
long  been  choked  up,  with  the  exception  of  the  single  "  Fountain  of  the 
Virgin,"  still  found  in  the  Kedron  valley.  Besides  this,  there  is  now  only 
a  solitary  well — that  of  Joab,  at  the  junction  of  the  Kedron  and  Hinnom 
valleys,  near  Siloam,  south-east  from  the  town.  It  was  doubtless  used  in 
Christ's  day,  and  it  is  still  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  summer  supply 
for  Jerusalem,  though,  like  everything  else  under  the  withering  spell  of 
Turkish  rule,  it  is  in  such  disrepair  that  its  water,  drawn  from  a  depth  of 
125  feet,  is  tainted  with  sewage.  The  ancient  supply,  however,  seems  to 
have  been  mainly  obtained  by  collecting  the  rainwater  in  pools  and 
cisterns,   and  by  aqueducts   which   drained  distant   hills,   and  brouglit 


OPEN   CONFLICT.  407 

abundance  into  the  various  public  pools  and  reservoirs  of  the  city  and 
Temple,  the  space  beneath  which  -was  honeycombed  by  immense  rock-hewn 
cisterns.  Many  houses,  also,  had  cisterns,  hewn  in  the  rock,  in  the  shape 
of  an  inverted  funnel,  to  collect  the  rain,  but  it  was  from  the  numerous 
"  pools  "  that  the  public  supply  was  mainly  derived.  Eight  still  remain, 
in  more  or  less  ruinous  condition,  and  there  appear  to  have  been  at  least 
three  others,  in  ancient  times. 

One  of  the  most  famous  of  these,  in  Christ's  day,  was  known  as  the 
Pool  of  Bethesda,  which  recent  explorations  appear  to  have  re-discovered     | 
at  the  north-west  corner  of  the  Temple  enclosure.     If  the  identification  bo     j 
valid,  the  pool  was  a  great  reservoir,  165  feet  in  length,  hewn  in  the  lime-     ! 
stone  rock  to  a  breadth  of  48  feet,  and  divided  in  halves  by  a  pier  of 
masonry  5  feet  thick,  built  across  it.     Water  still  enters  it   from  the 
north-west  corner,  probably  from  an  abundant  spring,  though  now  so 
mixed  with  sewage  as  to  be  unlit  for  drinking.     Eusebius  speaks  of  the 
Bethesda  of  his  day  as  "twin  pools,  one  of  which  is  filled  by  the  rains  of 
the  year,  but  the  other  has  water  tinged  in  an  extraordinary  way  with 
red."      This   effect  was   likely   produced  by  the   rapid   influx   of  water 
tln-ough  underground  channels,  after  heavy  rains.      It  is  said  by  St.  John 
to  have  been  close  to  the  "  Sheep  Gate  "—the  entrance,  doubtless,  of  the 
numerous  flocks  for  the  Temple  market. 

Bathing  in  mineral  waters  has,  in  all  ages,  been  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  potent  aids  to  recovery  from  various  diseases,  and  in  the  East,  where 
water  is  everything,  this  belief  has  always  prevailed.  The  Pool  of  Beth- 
esda, from  whatever  cause,  was  in  especial  favour  for  its  curative  jiowers, 
which  were  supposed  to  be  the  most  effective  when  the  waters  were  '•'  trou. 
liled,"  either  by  the  discoloration  after  heavy  rains,  or  by  periodical  flow-  I 
ing  after  intermission,  as  is  still  the  case  with  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin,  j 
near  Siloam. 

Natural  explanations  of  ordinary  phenomena  were  unknown  in  those 
simple  times,  for  there  was  no  such  thing  as  science.  Among  the  Jews,  as 
among  other  races,  everything  was  attributed  to  the  direct  action  of 
supernatural  beings.  In  the  Book  of  Jubilees,  which  shows  the  popular 
ideas  of  Christ's  day,  there  are  angels  of  adoration,  of  fire,  wind,  clouds, 
hail,  hoar  frost,  valleys,  thunder,  lightning,  winter,  spring,  summer,  and 
autumn,  and  of  "all  things  in  the  heavens  and  earth,  and  in  all  valleys;  of 
darkness,  of  light,  of  dawn,  and  of  evening."  The  healing  powers  of  the 
Bethesda  waters  were,  hence,  ascribed  to  periodical  visits  of  an  angel,  who 
"  troubled  the  water."  Popular  fancy  had,  indeed,  created  a  complicated 
legend  to  account  for  the  wonder.  At  least  as  far  back  as  the  days  of 
Nchemiah,  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  some  springs  had  been  ascribed  to  a 
groat  dragon  v.'hich  lived  at  their  source,  and  drank  up  the  waters  when  it 
v»'oke,  leaving  them  to  flow  only  v^hile  it  was  asleep.  It  was  even  said 
that  a  good  angel  dwelt  beside  healing  springs,  and  each  morning  gave 
them  their  virtue  afresh,  and  a  Eabbi  had  gone  so  far  as  to  report  that,  as 
he  sat  by  a  fountain,  the  good  angel  who  dwelt  in  it  appeared  to  him,  and 
said  that  a  demon  was  trying  to  get  into  it,  to  hurt  those  who  frequented 
it.     He  was,  therefore,  to  go  and  tell  the  townsfolk  to  come  with  hammers, 


408  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

or  iron  rods  or  bars,  and  lieat  the  water  till  it  grew  red  with  thick  drops 
of  blood— the  sign  that  the  demon  was  conquered  and  slain. 

Some  such  fanciful  notions,  based,  very  probably,  on  real  curative 
powers  in  the  water  at  certain  seasons,  attracted  daily  to  Bethcsda  a 
multitude  of  unfortunates  who  hoped  to  be  healed  of  blindness,  atrophy, 
lameness,  and  other  infirmities,  by  loathing,  at  the  right  moment,  a  suffi- 
cient nnnilx  r  of  times.  Charity  had  built  five  porches  round  the  pool,  to 
afford  the  crowd  a  shelter,  and  these,  and  the  great  stops  leading  down  to 
the  waters,  were  constantly  thronged,  like  the  steps  of  a  sacred  bathing- 
place  to-day,  on  the  Ganges. 

Among  the  sufferers  was  one  who  had  been  helplessly  crippled  by 
rheumatism  or  paralysis  for  thirty-eight  years,  but  still  clung  to  the  hope 
that  he  would,  one  day,  be  healed.  He  had,  apparently,  caused  himself  to 
be  brought  from  a  distance,  for  he  had  no  friends  on  the  spot,  and  hence 
suffered  the  pain  of  many  times  seeing  others,  less  helpless,  crowd  into 
the  waters,  while  he  lay  on  his  mat  for  want  of  some  pitying  aid. 

Jesus  had  every  motive,  at  this  time,  to  avoid  attracting  attention  in 
Jerusalem,  for  it  might  rouse  the  open  hostility  of  the  Church  authorities, 
which  only  waited  an  opportunity.  The  pitiful  plight  of  the  sufferer, 
however,  awoke  His  compassion,  and  in  sympathy  for  his  story,  though 
without  committing  Himself  to  his  ideas  resjsecting  the  pool,  He  healed 
him  by  a  word,  telling  him  to  "  rise,  take  up  his  sleeping  mat,  and  walk." 

The  common  feelings  of  humanity,  one  might  have  thought,  would  have 
followed  an  act  so  tender  and  beautiful,  with  admiration  and  hearty 
appi'oval.  But  there  is  no  crime  that  may  not  be  done  by  fanaticism 
allied  to  religious  opinions  ;  no  deadness  to  true  religion  too  profound  for 
the  championship  of  fancied  orthodoxy.  Pity,  charity,  recognition  of 
worth,  or  nobleness  of  act  or  word,  give  place  to  remorseless  hatred  and 
bloodthirsty  vengeance  where  there  is  religious  hatred.  Inquisitors  who 
sent  thousands  to  the  stake  for  an  abstract  proposition,  or  immured  theru 
in  dungeons,  and  feasted  on  their  torture,  for  their  refusal  to  repeat  sora 
wretched  Shibboleth,  have  been  amiable  and  gentle  in  all  other  relations. 
The  hierarchical  party  in  Jerusalem  comprised  men  of  all  dispositions,  and 
of  every  shade  of  sincerity  and  its  opposite.  But  ib  had  been  touched  in 
its  tenderest  susceptibilities  by  the  preaching  of  the  Baptist ;  for  it  had 
been  called  to  account,  and  had  had  its  shortcomings  held  up  before  the 
nation.  The  instinct  of  self-preservation,  and  the  conservatism  of  a 
priestl^^  and  legal  order,  were  instantly  roused,  and  assailed  the  Reformer 
with  the  cry  that  the  Law  and  the  Temple  were  in  danger.  The  Baptist 
had  already  fallen,  most  likely  by  their  help ;  but  a  successor,  more  to  be 
dreaded,  had  risen  in  Jesus.  They  had  watched  His  course  in  Galilee 
with  anxiety,  which  had  already  shown  itself  during  His  short  visit  to 
Jerusalem  at  the  Passover  before,  and  in  His  subsequent  circuits  through 
Judea.  Spies,  sent  from  Jerusalem,  dogged  His  steps  and  noted  His 
words  and  acts,  to  report  them  duly  to  the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  who 
had  seen  more  clearly,  day  by  day,  that  a  mortal  struggle  w^as  inevitable 
between  the  old  theocracy  and  the  Innovator.  Everything  was  in  their 
favour.     They  were  in  power,  and  could  at  any  moment  bring  Him  before 


OPEN    CONFLICT.  409 

tlieir  own  courts  on  trial,  even  for  life.  But  they  dreaded  overt  hostility, 
and  for  a  time  preferred  to  undermine  Him  secretly,  by  mooting  among 
the  people  suspicions  of  His  being  a  heretic,  or  affecting  to  think  Him  a 
mere  crazed  enthusiast.  His  most  innocent  sayings  were  perverted  to 
evil;  His  purest  aims  purposely  misconstrue  1.  Only  the  favour  of  the 
multitude,  and  His  own  moderation,  prudence,  and  wisdom,  warded  ofE 
open  violence. 

He  had  now,  however,  given  a  pretext  for  more  decided  action  than 
they  had  yet  taken.  No  feature  of  the  Jewish  system  was  so  marked  as 
its  extraordinary  strictness  in  the  outward  observance  of  the  Saljl)ath,  as 
a  day  of  entire  rest.  The  scribes  had  elaborated,  from  the  command  of 
Moses,  a  vast  array  of  prohibitions  and  injunctions,  covering  the  Avhole 
of  social,  individual,  and  piiblic  life,  and  carried  it  to  the  extreme  of  ridi- 
culous caricature.  Lengthened  rules  were  prescribed  as  to  the  kinds  of 
knots  which  might  legally  bo  tied  on  Sabbath.  The  camel-driver's  knct 
and  the  sailor's  were  unlawful,  and  it  was  equally  illegal  to  tie  or  to  loose 
them.  A  knot  which  could  be  untied  with  one  hand  might  be  undone. 
A  shoe  or  sandal,  a  woman's  cap,  a  wine  or  oil-skin,  or  a  flesh-pot  might  bo 
tied.  A  pitcher  at  a  spring  might  be  tied  to  the  body-sash,  but  not  with 
a  cord. 

It  was  forbidden  to  write  two  letters,  either  with  the  right  hand  or  the 
left,  whether  of  the  same  size  or  of  different  sizes,  or  with  different  inks, 
or  in  different  languages,  or  with  any  pigment ;  with  ruddle,  gum,  vitriol, 
or  anything  that  can  make  marks ;  or  even  to  write  two  letters,  one  on 
each  side  of  a  corner  of  two  walls,  or  on  two  leaves  of  a  writing-tablet,  if 
they  could  be  read  together,  or  to  write  them  on  the  body.  But  they 
might  bo  written  on  any  dark  fluid,  on  the  sap  of  a  fruit-tree,  on  road-dust, 
on  sand,  or  on  anything  in  which  the  writing  did  not  remain.  If  they 
were  wi'itten  with  the  hand  turned  upside  down,  or  with  the  foot,  or  the 
mouth,  or  the  elbow,  or  if  one  letter  were  added  to  another  previously 
made,  or  other  letters  traced  ovei",  or  if  a  person  designed  to  write  the 
letter  H  and  only  wrote  two  T  t,  or  if  he  wrote  one  letter  on  the  ground 
and  one  on  the  wall,  or  on  two  walls,  or  on  two  pages  of  a  book,  so  that 
they  could  not  be  read  together,  it  was  not  illegal.  If  a  pei'son,  through 
forgetfulness,  wrote  two  characters  at  different  times,  one  in  the  morning, 
the  other  perhaps  towards  evening,  it  was  a  question  among  the  Kabbis 
whether  he  had  or  had  not  broken  the  Sabbath. 

The  quantity  of  food  that  might  be  carried  on  Sabbath  from  one  place  to 
another  was  duly  settled.  It  must  be  less  in  bulk  than  a  dried  fig :  if 
of  honey,  only  as  much  as  would  anoint  a  wound ;  if  water,  as  much  as 
would  make  eye-salve  ;  if  paper,  as  much  as  would  be  put  in  a  phylactery ; 
if  ink,  as  much  as  would  form  two  letters. 

To  kindle  or  extinguish  a  fire  on  the  Sabbath  was  a  great  desecration  of 
the  day,  nor  was  even  sickness  allowed  to  violate  Eabbiuical  rules.  It 
was  forbidden  to  give  an  emetic  on  Sabbath,  to  set  a  broken  bone,  or  put 
back  a  dislocated  joint,  though  some  Kabbis,  more  liberal,  held  that  what- 
ever endangered  life  made  the  Sabbath  law  void,  "  for  the  commands 
were  given  to  Israel  only  that  they  might  live  by  them."     One  who  was 


/> 

1  \ 


410  THE    LIFE    OF    CUEIST. 

Iniried  uudev  ruins  on  Sabbath,  iiiiglit  bo  dug  for  and  taken  out,  if  alive, 
but,  if  dead,  lio  was  to  be  left  wlicro  he  was,  till  the  Sabbath  was  over. 

The  holy  day  began  with  sunset  on  Friday,  and  ended  witli  Iho  suns<!t 
of  Saturday,  but  as  the  disa.p[)oaranec  of  tlio  nun  was  tlie  only  mark  of 
time,  its  commencement  was  different  on  a  hill-toiJ  and  in  a  valley.  If  it 
were  cloudy,  the  hens  going  to  roost  was  the  signal.  The  beginning  and 
close  of  the  Sabbath  were  announced  by  trumpet  blasts,  in  Jerusalem  and 
in  the  different  towns.  From  the  decline  of  the  sun  on  Fi-iday,  to  its  set- 
ting, was  Sabbath-eve,  and  no  work  wliiuh  would  continue  into  the  lioiirs 
of  Sabbath,  could  be  done  in  this  interval.  All  food  must  bo  prep<ared,  iill 
vessels  washed,  and  all  lights  kindled,  before  sunset.  Tlio  money  girdle 
must  betaken  off,  and  all  tools  laid  aside.  "  On  Friday,  before  the  bogiii- 
ning  of  tlie  Sabbath,"  said  one  law,  "no  one  must  go  out  of  his  houso  with 
a  needle  or  a  pen,  lest  ho  forget  to  lay  them  aside  before  the  Sabbath  opens. 
Every  one  must  also  search  his  pockets  at  that  time,  to  see  that  tliere  is 
nothing  left  in  them  with  which  it  is  forbidden  to  go  out  on  the  Sabbath." 
The  refinements  of  Rabbinical  casuistry  v/ere,  indeed,  endless.  To  wear 
one  kind  of  sandals  was  carrying  a  burden,  while  to  wear  another  kind 
Avas  not.  One  might  carry  a  burden  on  his  shoulder,  but  it  must  not  lie 
slung  between  two.  It  was  unlawful  to  go  out  with  wooden  sandals  or 
shoes  which  had  nails  in  the  soles,  or  with  a  shoo  and  a  sll2)i)cr,  unhiss  one 
foot  were  hurt.  It  was  unlawful  for  any  one  to  carry  a  loaf  on  tlio  public 
street,  but  if  two  cai'ried  it,  it  was  not  unlawful.  The  Sabbath  was  Ijclioved 
to  prevail  in  all  its  strictness,  from  eternity,  tlu'oughout  the  universe.  All 
the  Eabbinical  precepts  respecting  it  had  been  revealed  to  Jacob  from  the 
originals  on  the  tablets  of  heaven.  Even  in  hell  the  lost  had  rest  from 
their  torments  on  its  sacred  hours,  and  the  waters  of  Bothesda  might  be 
troubled  on  other  days,  but  were  still  and  unmoved  on  this. 

In  an  insincere  age  such  excessive  strictness  led  to  constant  evasions  by 
Pharisees  and  Sadducees  alike.  To  escape  the  restrictions  wliieh  limitiid  a 
journey  on  Sabljath  to  2,000  culjits  from  a  town  or  city,  they  eai'iied  food 
on  Friday  evening  to  a  spot  that  distance  beyond  the  walls,  and  assumed, 
hy  a  fiction,  that  tliis  made  that  spot  also  their  dwelling.  They  could 
thus,  on  the  Sabbath,  walk  the  full  distance  to  it,  and  an  equal  distance 
beyond  it,  this  journey  being  only  the  legal  distance  fi'om  tljo  fictitious 
place  of  residence  !  To  make  it  lawful  to  eat  together  on  the  Sabbath  the 
Eabbis  put  chiains  across  the  two  ends  of  a  sti'eet  in  which  the  members 
of  a  special  fraternity  lived,  and  called  it  a  single  dwelling,  whih;  to 
excuse  their  carrying  the  materials  of  their  Sabbath  repast  to  the  corrnr)f)n 
hall,  they  each  laid  some  food  in  it  on  Friday  evening,  to  create  tlie  fiction 
of  its  being  part  of  the  common  dwelling.  The  priestly  Sadducees,  on  the 
other  hand,  made  no  scruple  to  have  even  the  beasts  destined  for  their 
kitchen  driven  to  their  shambles  on  the  Sabbath,  on  the  pretext  that  tlflr 
common  meals  were  only  a  continuation  of  the  Temple  service,  by  which 
the  rest  of  the  Sabbath  was  not  legally  broken. 

Nor  were  such  equivocations  the  only  liberties  taken  with  the  sacred 
day,  for,  however  uncompromising  tov/ards  others,  the  Pharisees  v/ero 
themselves  disposed  to  violate  the  Sabbath  laws  when  occasion  demande'd. 


OPEN    CONFLTf'T.  1  I  I 

Tlioy  luul  ono  iimxiin,  tiinidly  npplifd  it,  is  Inic,  Iml,  slill  llhii's:  "'rim 
Suhltalh  is  lor  ^'oii,  buT  3011  nic  iioL  for  tlui  Sal)liiilli  ;  "  ami  aiml  luf,  .st  ill 
bolder,  "  Mako  a  coniiudu  day  ol'  yoiii-  Salilialii  raliici'  limn  j^o  Id  your 
iici<^lil)our  for  bcli)." 

Tlio  priests  and  Jvabbis,  Uiiis  sccrclly  iiidiilncnl,  to  I  licmsclvi'S,  bill,  uiis- 
tcrcly  sLricL  before  tin!  world,  found  iiii  oppoi'l  iiiiil y  in  I  \\('  cwn^  ill,  Hi'l liesiiii 
for  panidiiijj;  llnir  liollow  ruiilanism,  and  al,  IIk'  .^aim'  linn'  iaisin<(  11 
charge  against,  Jesus,  for  tlio  man  bad  bicn  bcalcd  mi  Iho  Salibal  li,  and 
had  l)eeii  told  to  carry  his  Hleeping-maL  willi  liini  In  bis  JMinic.  'J'bis  was 
enough.  Met  in  Iho  street,  cai'rying  his  ])al!el,  by  one  of  IIm'So  purists, 
ho  had  been  i'ei)riniandi(l  for  doing  so  as  contrary  lo  llic  Law,  and  bad 
sbii'ldrd  himself  Ity  tlio  ecjiiimand  of  ilini  wiio  liail  ininiculoiisly  healed 
liim.  It  was  not  till  some  time  aftei',  uiieii  Je.sii,;  bad  come  upon  bim  in 
tlio  Temple,  that  lio  know  tho  uanio  of  liia  beiiofactoi*,  for  Jchuh  iiad  bm  1  ii d 
away  from  tho  pool,  after  eniiii'^'  bim,  to  avoid  exeillng  lln'  inidlllndo 
round. 

It  seems  from  tbo  caution  given  bim  at  tbis  second  meilin/.';,  to  "  sin  no 
more,  lest  something  worso  should  befall  bim,"  as  if  the  man  bad  bi<Higli() 
liis  infirmity  on  liimself  by  misconduct.  Moi-  did  his  suliseqnent  bebiivioiir 
do  him  much  cix'dit.  He  had  no  sooner  discovered  Avlio  liad  iiealcd  bim, 
tlian  be  went  to  tbo  oflit'ials  and  told  them.  i''rom  tliat  moment  I  bo  doom 
of  Jesus  was  fixed.  J'barisee  and  Sadducco,  ltal)l)i  and  pric  ;(,,  foifil  t  iiig 
their  mutual  hatreds,  caballiMl,  heiKwd'orth,  to  faHt;Cii  such  aeeiisationH  upon 
Ilim  as  would  secure  His  death,  and  n(!V(!r  bdtf.'red  in  llieir  resolve  till 
they  cari'ied  it  out,  two  years  later,  on  Calvary. 

Jesus  seems  forthwitii  to  bave  bi'cn  for  tbe  lirst  timo  citetl  bol'ore  tlio 
antboi'ities,  on  the  formal  charge  of  Kabbal  b-breaUiiig  ;  but  liis  jiidg(!N 
were  little  prepared  for  tho  tone  of  His  defence,  heft  to  answer  for  liim- 
self, Ifo  threw  the  assembly  into  a  paroxysm  of  rcdigioiis  fury  by  (tlaimitig 
to  work  at  all  times  for  tho  good  (jf  men,  since  it  was  only  what  (bid,  His 
Father,  had  done  from  tho  beginning,  notwithstanding  the  Kabbatli  law. 
As  Ifis  (Son,  He  was  not  to  ];e  b.ttered  by  that  law,  oi'  Hiibject  to  it,  bill; 
was  JiOrd  of  the  Sabbath.  The  assernldy  saw  wliat  tbis  implied.  lie 
had  added  to  His  Sabbath  desecration  tbe  higher  crime  of  b!a:/pli(  niou;  ly 
"making  HiniH<;lf  cfpial  with  (Jod  by  calling  liim  H|»ecially  ilis  l'"atlier." 
The  excitement  must  liave  been  gJ'eat,  for  (Jrientals  give  free  vent  to  their 
feelings,  under  any  circumstances.  Some  years  aiicr,  tlio  same  iribuimJ, 
with  the  crowd  of  spectators,  gnaslied  tlieir  teeth  at  the  martyr  Sliplaii, 
in  their  infuriated  bigotry,  and  cried  out  v/itb  loud  v(iic<;s,  and  stopped 
their  ears  at  bis  words.  Jn  all  probability  a  similar  i-.torm  I'oso  around 
Jesus  now.  IJut  He  remained  peif'eetly  calm,  and  wlien  sile/mo  waH  in  a 
measure  restored,  procc-cded  with  His  defence  against  this  second  cliargo. 

He  did  not  for  a  moment  deny  that  they  were  right  in  tin;  meaning  tliey 
put  on  His  words,  l;ut  stated  more  fully  wliy  Jl<;  usr;*!  tiiem.  It  wan 
impossible  for  Him  to  act  independently  of  liis  I'atiier;  lle(;ould  only  do 
so  if  Ife  were  not  His  Son.  'i'liero  was  aiiHolutr;  onr;nesH  in  the  sfiirit  and 
aim  of  the  works  of  both,  as  in  tliose  of  a  son  who  lool<s  with  reverenee  at 
the  acts  of  a  father,  and  has  no  thouglit  Injt  to  reprt^duce  tlieni,     "  My 


412  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Father,  God,  in  His  love  for  me,  the  Son,  lays  ever  open  before  me  in 
direct  self-disclosure,  all  that  He  Himself  does,  that  I  may  do  the  same. 
You  marvel  at  my  healing  the  lame  man,  but  the  Father  "will  show  me 
greater  works  than  this,  that  I  may  repeat  them  here  on  earth,  and  that 
you  may  wonder,  not  in  curiosity  as  noAV,  but  in  shame  at  your  unbelief. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,"  He  continued,  "  what  these  greater  works  are.  In 
your  Law  it  is  the  special  prerogative  of  the  Father  to  awaken  and  quicken 
the  dead,  but  it  is  mine  also,  for  I,  the  Son,  quicken  whom  I  will.  And  as 
to  judging  men  here  (as  to  their  spiritual  state),  it  is  left  to  me  alone  by 
my  Father,  that  all  men  may. honour  me  as  His  representative,  as  they 
honour  Him.  He  who  does  not  honour  me,  the  Son,  does  not  honour  the 
Father  who  sent  me.  If  you  wish  to  know  whom  I  spiritually  quicken, 
they  are  those  who  hear  my  word,  and  believe  Plim  who  sent  me,  for  they 
have  cverlastiug  life  even  here,  and  are  not  under  condemnation,  but  have 
passed  from  death  to  life.  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  The  hour  is 
coming,  and  now  is,  when  the  (spiritually)  dead  will  hear  my  voice — the 
voice  of  the  Son  of  God — and  they  that  hear  it  shall  live.  I  thus  wake 
them  to  life,  because  the  Father  has  made  me  the  Divine  fountain  of  life, 
as  He  Himself,  the  living  God,  is.  He  has  also  given  me  authority  to 
judge  men,  because  I  am  the  Son  of  man. 

"  But  marvel  not  at  wha,t  I  have  said  of  waking  and  judging  the  spiri- 
tually dead,  for  I  will  do  yet  greater  works.  I  shall  one  day  wake  the 
actually  dead  from  their  graves,  and  will  judge  them  at  the  great  day, 
raising  those  that  did  good  in  this  world  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  and 
those  tliat  did  evil  to  a  resurrection  of  judgment.  Nor  is  there  a  fear  of 
error,  for  I  can  do  nothing  of  myself.  I  judge  as  I  hear  from  God,  who, 
in  His  abiding  communion  with  me,  makes  known  His  Divine  judgment, 
which,  alone,  I  utter.  Hence  my  judgment  cannot  err,  because  I  speak 
only  that  of  God. 

"  You  may  say  that  I  am  bearing  witness  respecting  myself,  and  that, 
therefore,  it  is  of  no  value  ;  but,  if  you  think  thus,  there  is  another  that 
bears  witness  to  me,  and  ye  know  that  His  testimony  is  true — I  mean  God 
Himself.  You  sent  to  John,  and  he  bore  witness  to  the  truth.  But  the 
testimony  I  receive  is  not  that  of  man.  I  only  say  these  things  that  joix 
may  be  saved,  by  taking  John's  testimony  to  heart,  and  being  waked  by  it 
to  faith  in  me,  and  a  share  in  the  salvation  which,  as  the  Messiah,  I  offer 
you.  What  a  wondrous  ap2:)earance  John  was  !  He  was  a  burning  and 
shining  lamp,  and  you  wished  for  a  time  to  rejoice  in  his  light ;  but  when 
you  foimd  that  he  called  you  to  repentance  rather  than  to  national  glory 
and  worldly  prosperitj^  you  forsook  him,  and  became  his  enemies.  The 
light  he  shed  was  not  of  the  kind  you  desired. 

"  But  I  have  a  witness  which  is  greater  than  that  of  John.  The  work 
which  the  Father  has  given  me  to  bring  to  completion — the  work  of  found- 
ing and  raising  the  new  kingdom  of  God,  as  His  Messiah— this,  in  all  that 
it  implies  of  outward  and  spiritual  wonders,  bears  witness  that  the 
Father  has  sent  me.  And  not  only  does  God  Himself  testify  of  me  in- 
directly by  my  work  as  His  Messiah  ;  He  does  so  directly,  in  your  Scrip- 
tures.   But  ye  have  not  recognised  the  voice  of  this  testimony,  nor  realized 


OPEN    CONFLICT.  413 

the  image  of  me  it  presents.  You  are  spiritually  deaf  to  the  one  and  blind 
to  the  other.  Ye  have  not  the  true  sense  of  God's  word  in  your  con- 
sciences, for  you  do  not  believe  in  His  Messiah,  whom  He  has  sent,  and  of 
whom  these  Scriptures  testify.  They  witness  to  me  as  the  mediator  of 
eternal  life,  and  therefore  every  one  who  humbly  studies  them  as  the 
guide  to  that  life,  will  be  pointed  b}^  them  to  me.  You  search  the  Scrip- 
tures, professing  to  wish  to  find  life,  and  yet  refuse  to  accejit  me  !  How 
self-contradictory  and  self-condemning ! 

"  I  do  not  reproach  you  thus,  from  ^any  feeling  of  wounded  pride,  for  I 
care  nothing  for  the  applause  of  men.  I  do  it  because  I  know  the  ground 
of  3"0ur  disbelief — you  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  your  hearts.  If  you 
had,  you  would  recognise  and  receive  His  Son  whom  He  has  sent.  I  have 
come  in  my  Father's  name,  as  His  commissioned  representative — the  true 
Messiah — and  you  have  rejected  me  with  unbelieving  contempt,  but  when 
a  false  Messiah  comes  in  his  own  name,  you  will  receive  him  !  It  is  no 
wonder  you  have  rejected  me,  for  how  is  it  possible  that  such  as  jou  could 
believe,  who  have  no  higher  craving  than  to  give  and  accept  empty 
earthly  honours,  and  are  indifferent  to  the  only  true  honour  that  comes 
from  being  acknowledged  and  praised  of  God.'' 

"  You  trust  in  Moses,  who,  you  think,  has  promised  you  favour  with 
God,  here  and  hereafter.  Beware  !  There  is  no  need  that  I  should  accuse 
you  before  my  Father,  for  your  unbelief  in  me.  Moses,  himself,  in  the 
books  in  which  ye  trust,  is  your  accuser,  for  if  ye  had  believed  his  writings 
ye  would  have  believed  me,  for  he  wrote  of  me.  But  if  ye  be  so  blinded 
as  neither  to  see,  nor  to  believe  his  writings,  how  will  ye  believe  my 
words  ?  " 

The  authorities  had  never  had  such  a  prisoner  before  them.  They  knew 
not  what]  to  do  with  Him,  and,  in  their  confusion  and  utter  defeat,  could 
only  let  Him  depart  unharmed.  They  had  not  yet  summoned  courage  to 
proceed  to  open  violence. 

This  was  the  turning  point  in  the  life  of  Jesus.  Till  now  He  had  en- 
joyed a  measure  of  toleration  and  even  of  acceptance  ;  but,  henceforth,  all 
was  chanstcd.  Jerusalem  was  no  longer  safe  for  Him,  and  even  in  Galilee 
He  was  dogged  by  determined  enmity.  The  shadow  of  the  Cross  darkened 
His  whole  future  career. 

Free  from  His  enemies,  Jesus  appears  to  have  returned  at  once  to 
Galilee,  in  the  hope,  perhaps,  that  there — far  from  Jerusalem,  with  its 
fierce  religious  fanaticism  and  malevolent  hypocrisy — He  could  breathe 
more  freely  in  the  still  and  clear  air  of  the  hills.  But  religious  hatred  is 
beyond  all  others  intense  and  persistent.  There  were  Eabbis  and  priests 
in  the  north  as  well  as  the  south,  and  they  watched  His  every  step. 

A  fresh  occasion  for  accusation  could  not  be  long  of  rising.  He  had  left 
Jerusalem  immediately  after  the  Passover,  and  on  the  Sabbath  after  the 
second  day  of  the  Feast— or,  it  may  be,  a  Sabbath  later — a  new  charge 
was  brought  against  Him.  In  the  short  distance  which  it  was  lawful  to 
walk  on  a  Sabbath — less  than  three-quarters  of  a  mile — the  path  lay  through 
ripening  fields  of  bai'ley — for  Nisan,  the  Passover  month,  was  the  ancient 
Abib,  or  month  of  caring,  and  the  first  early  sheaf  was  offered  on  the 


414  THE   LIFE   OF   CHlilST. 

second  day  of  tlie  Passover,  It  was,  by  tlie  Law  aiid  by  Eastern  custom, 
free  to  all  to  pluck  ears  cuough  in  a  corn  field,  or  grapes  enough  from  a 
vine,  to  supply  hunger,  and  the  disciples,  as  every  Oriental  still  does  in  the 
same  circumstances,  availed  themselves  of  this  liberty,  plucking  some  ears 
of  the  barley,  and  rubbing  them  in  their  hands  as  they  went  on.  The  field 
must  have  been  near  some  town,  most  likely  Capernaum,  for  a  number  of 
people  were  about,  and  among  others  some  spies.  It  was  no  wonder  both 
He  and  the  disciples  were  hungry,  for  no  Jew  could  break  his  fast  till  after 
the  morning  service  at  the  synagogue,  or  take  supper  till  after  the  evening 
service ;  but  He  had  sanctioned  two  offences  against'  the  Sabbath  laws. 
The  plucking'  the  ears  was  a  kind  of  reaping,  and  the  rubbing  was  a  kind 
of  grinding  or  threshing.  Besides,  it  was  required  that  all  food  should  be 
prejoared  on  Friday,  before  sunset,  and  the  rubbing  was  a  preparation.  On 
any  other  day  there  would  have  been  no  cause  of  blame ;  but  to  break  the 
Sabbath  rather  than  suffer  hunger  for  a  few  hours,  was  guilt  worthy  of 
stoning.  Was  it  not  their  boast  that  Jews  were  known  over  the  world  by 
their  readiness  to  die  rather  than  brealc  the  holy  day  ?  Every  one  had 
stories  of  grand  fidelity  to  it.  The  Jewish  sailor  had  refused,  even  when 
threatened  with  death,  to  touch  the  helm  a  moment  after  the  sun  had  set 
on  Friday,  though  a  storm  was  raging ;  and  had  not  thousands  allowed 
themselves  to  bo  butchered  rather  than  lift  a  weapon  in  self-defence  on  the 
Sabbath  ?  The  "  new  doctrine "  of  Jesus  would  turn  the  world  upside 
down  if  not  stopped.  ' 

The  spies  of  the  hierarchical  party,  who  had  seen  the  offence,  at  once  ac- 
cused Him  for  permitting  it,  but  His  answer  only  made  matters  worse.  Ho 
reminded  them  how  David,  when  pressed  by  hunger,  in  his  flight  from  Saul, 
had  eaten  the  holy  bread,  and  given  it  to  his  followers,  though  it  was  not 
lawful  for  any  but  priests  to  eat  it.  Did  that  not  show  that  the  claims  of 
nature  overrode  those  of  a  ceremonial  rule  ?  that  the  necessity  of  David 
and  his  followers  was  to  be  considered  before  the  observance  of  a  tradition  ? 
The  law  of  nature  came  from  God ;  the  theocratic  prohibition  was  of  man. 
"  And  have  yoxi  not  read  in  the  Law,"  added  He,  "  hoAV  the  priests  work  at 
their  duties  on  the  Sabbath,  and  yet  are  held  blameless,  though  they  are 
in  fact  breaking  the  holy  day,  if  your  traditions  and  rules  are  to  be  the 
unbending  standard  ?  What  is  lawful  for  the  servants  of  the  Temple  to 
do  on  Sal)bath  must,  much  more,  be  lawful  for  my  servants  to  do  on  that 
day,  for  I  am  greater  than  the  Temple.  You  condemn  my  disciples,  be- 
cause your  thoughts  are  so  fixed  on  outward  rites  tha,t  you  have  forgotten 
that  God  thinks  less  of  them  than  of  acts  of  mercy.  Does  He  not  say,, '  I 
will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice  '  ?  It  is  in  your  want  of  mercy  that  you 
accuse  my  followers.  They  have,  besides,  acted  under  my  authority.  The 
Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath,  as  even  the  Pharisees 
allow,  and  therefore,  in  any  case,  its  laws  must  give  way  befoi'e  human 
necessities.  But  I,  the  Son  of  man — the  representative  of  man  as  man — 
the  Messiah  of  God — am  still  higher  than  any  individual  man,  and  above 
all  your  Sabbath  laws." 

Such  a  retort  and  such  transcendent  claims  may  well  have  startled  His 
accusers,  but  they  only  deepened  their  liatred,  for  bigotry  is  blind  and 


OPEN   CONFLICT.  415 

deaf  to  reasou.  Charge  was  being  added  to  charge,  accusatiou  to  accusa- 
tion. He  had  claimed  the  jsower  to  forgive  sins;  He  had  associated  vrith 
publicans  and  sinners  ;  He  had  shown  no  zeal  for  washings  or  fasts,  and 
now  He  had,  a  second  time,  openly  desecrated  the  Sabbath. 

His  defence  had  only  made  His  position  towards  the  Pharisaic  laws 
more  antagonistic  than  ever,  for  it  had  denied  that  they  were  uncondi- 
tionally binding.  Their  authority  depended  on  circumstances  :  they  were 
not  owned  as  directly  Divine.  God  had  planted  a  higher  law  in  the  human 
breast,  and  the  system  of  the  Eabbis  must  yield  before  it.  He  had  virtu- 
ally alleged  that  the  time  was  come  to  free  Israel  from  the  yoke  of  tra- 
ditional observance,  and  to  raise  anew  spuntnal  kingdom  on  the  imperish- 
able basis  of  truly  Divine  law.  By  their  system  man  was  subordinated  to 
the  Sabbath ;  not  the  Sabbath  to  man.  This  harshness  was  not  the  design 
or  will  of  God.  The  Sabbath  had  been  given  by  Him  for  the  good  of  man, 
and  was  to  be  a  day  of  refreshment,  peace,  and  joy;  not  of  pain,  sorrow, 
and  terror.  Jesus,  therefore,  proclaimed  expressly  that  man  is  greater 
than  the  Sabbath,  in  du-ect  contradiction  to  the  Pharisaic  teaching,  which 
made  the  Sabbath  of  immeasurably  greater  worth  than  man.  Man,  and 
still  more  Himself,  as  the  representative  of  humanity,  in  its  abiding  dig- 
nity a,nd  rights — the  Son  of  man — is  the  Lord  of  the  Sabbath.  It  was  a 
proclamation  of  spiritual  freedom. 

By  such  teaching,  the  Eabbinical  and  the  priestly  party,  alike,  felt 
themselves  threatened  in  their  cherished  hopes,  wishes,  and  interests. 
Since  His  half-contemptuous  words  about  the  old  garment  and  the  old 
bottles,  the  breach  between  them  and  Jesus  had  been  final.  They  had 
marked  Him  definitely,  as  opposed  to  traditional  Eabbinism,  as  a  danger- 
ous agitator,  and  an  enemy  of  the  venerated  "  Hedge  of  the  Law," — the 
glory  of  successive  generations  of  Eabbis.  The  hierarchy  would  at  once 
have  indicted  him  publicly,  but  for  His  wide  popularity,  the  devotion  felt 
for  Him  by  the  multitudes  He  had  healed  or  comforted,  the  transparent 
singleness  of  His  aims  and  labours,  the  gentleness  aiad  dignity  of  His 
character,  which  enforced  reverence,  and  His  Divine  humility  and  lowliness 
of  heart,  which  made  Him  so  unassailable. 

The  synagogues  were,  as  yet,  open  to  Him,  and  He  still  frequented  them 
for  the  facilities  they  offered  of  teaching  the  people.  Another  violation 
of  the  Pharisaic  laws  of  the  Sabbath  soon  followed  in  one  of  the  services. 
He  had  gone  to  the  synagogue,  and  was  teaching  in  it,  Vi'hen  He  noticed 
a  man  whose  right  hand,  withered  by  long-standing  local  paralysis  and 
its  consequent  atrophy,  hung  helpless  by  his  side.  Meanwhile,  the  angry 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  now  constantly  on  the  watch  against  Him,  sat  with 
keen  eyes  to  see  if  He  would  venture  to  break  their  Sabbath  laws  once 
more,  by  healing  the  sufferer,  who  could  claim  no  help  till  the  sacred  day 
was  over,  as  he  was  in  no  immediate  danger  of  life.  Their  fine-spun 
casuistry  had  elaborated  endless  rules  for  the  treatment  of  all  maladies  on 
the  sacred  day.  A  person  in  health  was  not  to  take  medicine  on  the 
Sabbath.  For  the  toothache,  vinegar  might  bo  put  in  the  mouth,  if  it  were 
afterwards  swallowed,  but  it  must  not  be  spat  out  again.  A  sore  throat 
must  not  be  gargled  with  oil,  but  the  oil  might  be  swallowed.     It  was 


416  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

unlawful  to  rub  the  teeth  with  sweet  spice  for  a  cure,  but,  if  it  were  done 
to  sweeten  the  breath,  it  was  permitted.  No  fomentations,  etc.,  could  be 
put  to  affected  parts  of  the  body.  One  prohibition  I  must  give  in  Latin. 
"  Qui  pediculum  occidit  sabb.  idem  est  ac  si  occideret  camelum."  The 
school  of  Shammai  held  it  unhiwful  to  comfort  the  sick,  or  visit  the 
mourner  on  the  Sabbath,  but  the  school  of  Hillel  permitted  it. 

It  was  clear,  therefore,  that,  if  any  cure  of  the  withered  hand  were 
attempted,  there  would  be  ground  for  another  fornaal  charge  of  Sabbath- 
breaking,  which  brought  with  it  death  by  stoning. 

But  Jesus  never  feared  to  do  right.  No  thought  of  self  ever  came 
between  Him  and  His  witness  to  the  truth.  Looking  over  at  His  enemies, 
as  they  sat  on  the  chief  seats.  He  read  their  hearts,  and  felt  that  fidelity 
to  the  very  law  which  His  expected  action  would  be  held  to  have  broken, 
demanded  that  that  act  be  done. 

His  whole  soul  was  kindled  with  righteous  anger  and  sorrow  at  the 
hardness  which  forced  conscience  to  be  silent,  rather  than  confess  the 
truth.  It  was  needful  that  such  hollowness  and  wilful  perversity  should 
be  exposed.  As  the  Son  of  God — the  Messiah — sent  to  found  a  kingdom 
of  i^ure  spiritual  religion.  He  felt  that  the  wisdom  of  the  schools,  joriestly 
mediation,  sacrifices.  Temple  rites,  and  Sabbath  laws,  were  only  a 
glittering  veil,  which  shut  out  the  knowledge  of  eternal  truth,  alike 
towards  God  and  towards  man.  He  had  taught  and  healed,  announced  the 
kingdom  of  spirit  and  truth,  cheered  the  poor,  reproved  sinners,  lifted  the 
humble  from  the  dust,  and  gathered  the  godly  round  Himself.  Dull, 
mechanical  obedience  to  worthless  forms ;  or  love,  from  the  fulness  of  the 
heart,  was  now  the  cpiestion,  in  religion  and  morals.  Should  true  religion 
be  spread,  or  error  confirmed  ?  Should  He  silently  allow  blinded  men  to 
fancy  their  blind  leaders  right,  or  should  He  brave  all,  to  open  their  eyes 
and  lead  tlicm  into  the  true  ways  of  His  Father  ?  Looking  at  the  pai'alysed 
man.  He  bade  him  rise  from  the  floor — on  which,  with  the  rest  of  the  con- 
gregation, he  had  been  sitting — and  stand  forth  in  the  midst,  and,  on  his 
doing  so,  in  ready  obedience  to  one  so  famous,  turned  once  more  to  the 
scowling  Eabbis  on  the  dais.  "  Is  it  lawful  on  the  Sabbath  days,"  He 
asked  theiu,  "  to  do  good  or  to  do  evil,  to  save  life  or  to  destroy  it  ?  "  But 
they  held  their  peace,  fearing  they  might  commit  themselves  by  answer- 
ing without  careful  reflection.  "  It  is  allowable,  is  it  not,"  He  resumed, 
"  to  lay  hold  on  a  sheep  which  has  fallen  into  a  pit  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
and  help  it  out  p  How  much  then,  is  a  man  better  than  a  sheep  ?  Where- 
fore it  is  lawful  to  do  well  on  the  Sabbath."  "  Stretch  forth  thy  hand,"  said 
He,  to  the  sufferer; — and  the  hand  which,  till  then,  had  hung  wasted  and 
lifeless  at  his  side,  was  healthy  and  strong  as  the  other. 

Jesus  knew  the  significance  of  the  moment.  He  felt  that  the  silence  of 
His  accusers  was  not  from  conviction,  but  sullen  obstinacy,  which  had  shut 
its  ears  against  the  truth.  He  saw  that,  between  him  and  the  leaders  of 
the  nation,  there  was  henceforth  a  hopeless  separation.  They  had  finally 
rejected  Him,  and  would  henceforward  seek  His  destruction.  Their 
fanaticism,  now  fairly  roused,  forgot  all  minor  hatreds,  and  united  the  hos- 
tile factions  of  the  nation  in  common  eagerness  for  His  destruction.     No 


OPEN    CONFLICT.  417 

parties  could  be  more  opposed  than  the  nationalists  or  Pharisees,  and  the 
Friends  of  Rome  gathered  round  Herod  Antipas  at  Tiberias,  but  they  now 
joined  in  hunting  Jesus  to  the  death.  The  alliance  boded  the  greatest 
danger,  for  it  showed  that,  in  addition  to  religious  fanaticism.  He  had  now 
to  encounter  the  suspicion  of  designing  political  revolution.  The  Church 
and  the  State  had  banded  together  to  put  "  the  deceiver  of  the  people  "  out 
of  the  way  as  soon  as  possible. 

It  had  been  inevitable  from  the  first  that  it  should  be  so.  The  Jerusalem 
party  expected  the  "  Salvation  of  Israel "  from  the  unconditional  restora- 
tion of  the  theocracy,  with  themselves  at  its  head,  and  from  the  strictest 
enforcement  of  outward  legal  observances.  While  the  contrast  between 
Judaism  and  heathenism  was,  meanwhile,  intcusified  and  embittered  to  the 
utmost,  they  hoped  before  long  to  crush  Rome,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 
They  would  have  greeted  any  one  who  proved  able  to  impose  their  Law,  in 
all  its  strictness,  on  mankind, — as  a  deliverer,  as  the  stem  from  the  root 
of  David,  as  the  Saviour  and  Messiah.  In  Jesus,  on  the  contrary,  there 
appeared  one  who,  while  constraining  their  wonder  at  His  lofty  morality 
and  spiritual  greatness,  was  the  very  opposite  of  all  they  wished  and 
hoped.  He  claimed  to  be  the  Messiah,  but  His  ideal  of  the  Messiahship 
was  the  antithesis  of  that  of  the  Eabbis  and  priesthood.  He  had  an- 
nounced Himself  as  the  founder  of  a  new  theocracy  more  spiritual  and 
more  holy  than  that  of  Moses.  He  had  thrown  a  new  light  on  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  had  revealed  God  in  a  new  aspect  as  no  mere  national  deity,  but 
the  Father  of  all  mankind — and  He  had  taught  the  most  startling  novelties 
as  to  the  freedom  of  the  individual  conscience.  The  Rabbis  had  enjoyed, 
as  their  exclusive  prerogative,  the  exposition  of  Scripture,  but  they  now 
found  themselves  dethroned  by  the  religious  freedom  Jesus  had  proclaimed, 
and  He  had  even  spoken  of  them  as  a  hindrance  to  true  knowledge.  The 
spirit  of  His  teaching  compromised  the  whole  state  of  things  in  the 
religious  world.  He  announced  a  new  future  :  the  vested  rights  of  the  day 
clung  to  the  past,  with  which  their  interests  and  their  passions  were 
identified. 

The  new  wine  was  thus  already  bursting  the  old  bottles,  and  the  result 
could  not  be  doubtful.  Conservatism  felt  itself  imperilled,  for  it  had  been 
Aveighed  and  found  wanting.  The  priesthood  had  become  a  dividing  wall 
between  God  and  Israel.  Its  condition  was  a  fit  expression  of  the  reli- 
gious decay  of  the  nation.  The  sacrifices  were  mere  outward  forms  ;  the 
Temple,  notwithstanding  the  glory  with  which  Herod's  love  of  magnifi- 
cence and  hj^pocritical  piety  had  adorned  it,  Avas  a  symbol  of  exclusiveness, 
intolerance,  and  hatred  of  humanity  at  large ;  the  high  officialism  of  the 
day,  was  a  dam  against  every  reform,  every  breath  of  fresh  religious 
thought,  and  every  attempt  at  a  purer  spiritual  life. 


z  t 


418  TUB   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

OHAPTEE   XXXIX. 

gaAlee. 

THE  opposition  of  tlie  Eabbis  and  priests,  however  malignant  and  fixed, 
was  as  yet  confined  to  secret  plottings.  Witli  tlie  people  at  large. 
Jesus  continued  even  increasingly  popiilar.  It  was  advisable,  however,  to 
avoid  any  pretext  for  overt  hostility,  and  hence  He  withdrew  from  Caper- 
naum for  a  time,  on  another  mission  to  the  towns  and  villages  on  the  edge 
of  the  lake,  till  the  storm,  in  a  measure,  blew  over.  To  the  chagrin  of  His 
enemies,  the  multitudes  attracted  to  see  and  hear  Him  were  larger  than 
ever.  The  excitement  was  evidently  spreading  through  all  Palestine,  for 
numbers  still  continued  to  come  from  Jeriisalem  and  Idumea  on  the  south, 
from  Perea  and  Decapolis  and  other  parts  on  the  east,  and  even  from  the 
heathen  district  round  Tyre  and  Sidon  on  the  north.  There  were  many 
Jews  settled  in  every  part  of  the  land,  and  the  concourse  was  no  doubt  of 
such  almost  exclusively.  It  was  even  found  necessary  that  a  boat  should 
attend  Him,  as  He  journeyed  along  the  shore,  that  He  might  betake  Him- 
self to  it  when  the  throng  grew  oppressive.  Miraculous  cases  in  great 
number  increased  the  excitement,  many  who  crowded  round  Him  finding 
relief  by  touching  even  His  clothes,  and  unclean  sj^irits  falling  down 
before  Him  in  voluntary  confession  of  His  being  the  Son  of  God.  But 
though  His  pity  would  not  refuse  to  heal  any  who  came,  He  still  sought 
to  avoid  the  offence  of  too  great  notoriety,  by  requiring  secrecy.  His 
gentle  and  unostentatious  progress  was  in  such  vivid  contrast  to  the  noisy 
and  disputatious  ways  of  the  Rabbis,  that  St.  Matthew  saw  in  it  a  fulfil- 
ment of  the  Messianic  visions  of  Isaiah,  for  He  did  not  strive,  nor  cry 
alottd,  nor  was  His  voice  heard  in  the  streets,  and  in  His  tender  gentleness 
He  ATOuld  not  break  a  bruised  reed,  or  quench  even  the  smoking  flax. 

The  Gospels  do  not  enable  us,  in  the  incidents  recorded  by  them,  to 
follow  any  chronological  sequence  of  these  months  of  our  Lord's  ministry, 
but  it  must  have  been  about  this  time,  perhajjs  on  His  return  to  Cajier- 
naum,  from  this  mission,  that  we  miist  date  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
their  narratives.  He  had  scarcely  reached  home,  after  His  circuit,  when 
a  deputation  of  "the  elders  of  the  Jews"  waited  on  Him.  They  were  the 
foremost  men  in  the  Capernaum  community — the  governing  body  of  the 
synagogue,  and,  as  such,  the  Jewish  magistrates  of  the  town.  It  is  the 
habit  in  the  East  to  send  such  embassies  when  any  request  is  to  be  made 
or  invitation  given  with  circumstances  of  special  respect,  but  there  was 
a  feature  in  this  case  that  made  it  veiy  unusual.  The  members  of  the 
deputation,  though  Jewish  ecclesiastical  officials,  came  as  the  representa- 
tives of  a  heathen,  possibly  of  a  Samaritan.  Lying  on  the  edge  of  his 
territory,  Herod  Antipas  kept  a  small  garrison  in  Capernaum,  and  this,  at 
that  time,  was  imder  command  of  a  centurion,  who,  like  many  of  the  better 
heathen  of  the  day,  had  been  drawn  towards  Judaism  by  its  favourable 
contrast  with  idolatry.  He  had  shown  his  sympathy  with  the  nation  and 
his  generous  spirit,  in  a  way  then  not  uncommon  among  the  wealthy,  by 
building  a  synagogue  in  the  town — perhaps  that  of  Avhich  the  massive 


GALILEE.  419 

ruins  still  remain.  One  of  his  slaves  liaci  been  sti'uck  with  a  paralytic 
affection,  and  was  fast  sinking ;  and  with  a  tenderness  that  did  him  infinite 
honour  in  an  age  when  a  slave  was  treated  by  many  masters,  and  even 
in  the  eye  of  the  Eoman  laAv,  as  a  mere  chattel,  he  prayed  Jesus,  through 
the  Jewish  elders,  to  heal  the  sufferer.  Their  request  was  at  once  complied 
with,  and  Jesus  forthwith  set  out  with  them  to  the  centurion's  quarters. 

But  the  zeal  of  the  messengers  had  outrun  their  commission,  for,  as 
Jesus  ap25roached  the  house,  a  second  dej^utation  met  Him,  to  deprecate 
His  being  put  to  so  much  trouble,  and  to  apologise,  by  a  humble  expression 
of  the  centurion's  sense  of  his  unworthiness  of  the  honour  of  such  an  One 
coming  under  his  roof.  He,  himself,  appears  to  have  followed,  as  if  it  had 
been  too  great  a  liberty  to  approach  Jesus  except  at  the  distance  of  two 
mediations.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  trouble  not  Thyself  ;  for  I  am  not  worthy 
that  Thou  shoiildcst  enter  under  my  roof.  Wherefore,  neither  thought  I 
myself  worthj^  to  come  to  Thee  ;  but  say  in  a  word,  and  my  servant  shall 
be  healed.  For  I,  also,  am  a  man  set  under  authority  (and  render  obedi- 
ence to  my  superiors),  and  have  soldiers  under  me,  and  I  say  to  this  one, 
Go,  and  he  goes  ;  to  another.  Come,  and  he  comes  ;  and  to  my  servant,  Do 
this,  and  he  does  it.  If,  therefore.  You  indicate  your  pleasure  only  by  a 
word,  the  demons  who  cause  diseases  will  at  once  obey  You  and  leave  the 
sick  man,  for  they  are  under  your  authority,  as  my  servants  are  under 
mine." 

Faith  so  clear,  undoubting,  and  humble,  had  never  before  cheered  the 
heart  of  Jesus,  even  from  a  Jew,  and,  coming  as  it  did  from  the  lips  of  a 
heathen,  it  seemed  the  first-fruits  of  a  vast  harvest,  outside  the  limits  of 
the  Ancient  People.  He  had  found  a  welcome  in  Samaria  when  rejected 
in  Judea ;  and  now  it  was  from  a  heathen  He  received  this  lowly  homage. 
The  clouds  that  had  lain  over  the  world  through  the  past  seemed  to  break 
away,  and  a  new  earth  spread  itself  out  before  His  soul.  The  Kingdom 
of  God,  rejected  by  Israel,  would  be  welcomed  by  the  despised  Gentile 
nations.  "  Verily,"  said  He,  "  I  tell  you,  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith, 
no,  not  in  Israel.  And  I  say  unto  you,  that  many  shall  come  from  the 
east  and  the  west,  o.nd  lie  down  at  the  table  of  God  in  the  kingdom  of  the 
Messiah,  as  honoured  guests,  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  while  the 
Jew,  who  prided  himself  on  being,  by  birth,  the  child  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom,  and  despised  all  others,  as  doomed  to  sit  in  the  darkness  outside 
the  banquet  hall  of  the  Messiah,  will  have  to  change  places  with  them  !  " 
To  His  hearers  such  language  would  speak  with  a  force  to  be  measured 
only  by  their  fierce  pride  and  intolerance.  To  share  a  grand  banquet  with 
the  patriarchs  in  the  Messianic  kingdom,  was  a  favourite  mode  with  the 
Jews  of  picturing  the  blessedness  that  kingdom  would  bring.  "  In  the 
future  world,"  they  made  God  say,  in  one  of  their  Rabbinical  lessons,  "  I 
shall  spread  for  you  Jews  a  great  table,  which  the  Gentiles  will  see  and  be 
ashamed."  But  now  the  rejection  and  despair  are  to  be  theirs  !  The  con- 
trast between  Jesus  and  the  Eabbis  was  daily  becoming  more  marlajd,  for 
He  adds  to  all  else  a  grand  vision  of  a  universal  religion,  and  of  a  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah,  no  longer  national,  but  sending  a  welcome  to  all  humanity 
who  will  submit  to  its  laws. 


420  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

"  Go  thy  way,"  added  He,  to  the  centurion,  "  and  as  thou  hast  beheved, 
so  be  it  done  to  thee."     And  his  slave  was  healed  in  that  very  hour. 

He  had  apparently  left  Capernaum  the  same  day,  for  we  find  Him,  on 
the  next,  at  a  village  called  JSTain,  twenty-five  miles  to  the  south-west,  on 
the  northern  slope  of  "  Little  Hermon,"  a  clump  of  hills  at  the  eastern 
end  of  tlio  great  plain  of  Esdraelon.  It  was  still  the  early  and  popular 
time  of  His  ministry,  and  crowds  followed  Him  wherever  He  appeared. 
Nain,  which  is  now  a  poor  and  miserable  hamlet,  inhabited  only  by  a  few 
fanatical  Mahometans,  may  then  have  deserved  its  name,  "  the  beautiful." 
The  only  antiquities  about  it  are  some  tombs  hewn  in  the  hills,  seen,  as 
you  approach,  beside  the  road  which  winds  up  to  the  village.  The 
presence  of  the  Prince  of  Life,  with  a  throng  of  disciples  and  followers, 
might  well  have  banished  thoughts  of  sadness,  but  shadows  everywhere 
lie  side  by  side  with  the  light.  As  He  came  near,  another  jarocession  met 
Him,  descending  from  Nain,  the  dismal  sounds  rising  from  it,  even  at  a 
distance,  telling  too  plainly  what  it  was.  Death  had  been  busy  under 
those  blue  summer  skies,  and  its  prey  was  now  being  borne,  amidst  the 
wail  of  the  mourner,  to  its  last  resting-place.  A  colder  heart  than  that  of 
Jesus  would  have  been  touched,  for  it  was  a  case  so  sad  that  the  whole 
town  had  poured  forth  to  show  its  sympathy  with  the  broken  heart  that 
followed  next  the  bier.  It  was  the  funeral  of  a  young  man,  the  only  son 
of  a  widow,  now  left  in  that  saddest  of  all  positions  to  a  Jew — to  mourn 
alone,  in  the  desolated  home  in  which  he  had  died,  doubtless,  only  a  very 
few  hours  before.  Moved  with  the  pity  at  all  times  an  instinct  with  Him 
Jesus  could  not  let  the  train  sweep  on.  It  was  not  meet  that  death  should 
reap  its  triumph  in  His  presence.  Stejoping  towards  the  poor  mother,  He 
dried  up  the  fountain  of  her  tears  by  a  soft  appeal.  "  Weep  not,"  said  He, 
and  then — careless  of  the  defilement  which  would  have  made  a  Rabbi  jiass 
as  far  as  he  could  from  the  dead — moved  to  the  bier.  Touching  it,  those 
who  bore  the  body  at  once  stood  still.  It  was,  no  doubt,  a  mere  open 
frame,  like  that  still  used  for  such  purposes  in  Palestine,  "  Young  man," 
said  He,  "  I  say  unto  thee,  Ai-ise."  It  was  enough.  "  He  that  was  dead 
sat  up  and  began  to  speak.     And  He  delivered  him  to  his  mother  " 

It  was  at  Shuncm,  now  Solani,  a  village  on  the  other  side  of  the  very 
hill  on  which  Nain  stood,  that  Elisha  had  raised  the  only  son  of  the  lady 
who  had  hospitably  entertained  him ;  and  the  luxuriant  plain  of  Jezreel, 
stretching  out  beneath,  had  been  the  scene  of  the  greatest  events  in  the 
life  of  Elijah,  who  had  raised  to  life  the  son  of  the  widow,  in  the  Phenician 
village  of  Sarei:)ta,  on  the  far  northern  coast.  No  prouder  sign  of  their 
greatness  as  prophets  had  lingered  in  the  mind  of  the  nation  than  such 
triumphs  over  the  grave,  and  in  no  place  could  such  associations  have 
been  more  rife  than  in  the  very  scene  of  the  life  of  both.  At  the  sight  of 
the  young  man  once  more  alive,  the  memory  of  Elijah  and  Elisha  was  on 
every  lip,  and  cries  rose  on  all  sides  that  a  great  prophet  had  again  risen, 
and  that  God  had  visited  His  people.  Nor  did  the  report  confine  itself  to 
these  upland  regions.  It  flew  far  and  near,  to  Judea  in  the  south,  and 
even  to  the  remote  Perca. 

For  now  six  months  ;  it  may  be,  for  more  than  a  year,  the  Baptist— the 


GALILEE.  421 

one  man  hitherto  recognised,  in  those  days,  as  a  prophet — had  hiin  a 
prisoner  in  the  dungeons  of  Machaerus,  in  hourly  expectation  of  a  violent 
death — a  man,  young  in  years,  but  -wasted  Tvith  his  own  fiery  zeal,  and 
now  by  the  shadows  of  his  prison-house.  Eut  Antipas  had  not  yet  deter- 
mined on  his  ultimate  fate.  Shielding  him  from  the  fury  of  Herodias,  and 
yet  dreading  to  let  him  go  free,  he  still  suffered  him,  as  Felix  permitted 
Paul  long  afterwards,  at  Cassarea,  to  receive  visits  from  his  disciples, 
as  if  almost  ashamed  to  confine  one  so  blameless.  The  rumours  of  Cln-ist's 
doings  had  thus,  all  along,  reached  the  lofty  castle  where  he  lay,  and 
must  have  been  the  one  great  subject  of  his  thought  and  conversation. 
As  a  Jew,  he  had  clung  to  Jewish  ideas  of  the  Messiah,  expecting  appar- 
ently a  national  movement,  which  would  establish  a  pure  theocracy,  under 
Jesus.  Why  had  He  left  him  to  languish  in  prison  ?  Why  had  He  not 
used  His  supernatural  powers  to  advance  the  Kingdom  of  God.? 

To  solve  such  questions,  which  could  not  be  repressed,  two  of  his  dis- 
ciples were  deputed  to  visit  Jesus,  and  learn  from  Himself  whether  He 
Avas,  indeed,  the  Messiah,  or  whether  the  nation  should  still  look  for 
another?  From  first  to  last,  more  thansi^ty  claimants  of  the  title  were 
to  rise.  John  might  well  wonder  if  tHe  past  were  not  a  dream,  and  Jesus 
only  a  herald  like  himself.  He  had  everything  to  depress  him.  A  child 
of  the  desert,  accustomed  to  its  wild  freedom,  he  was  now  caged  in  a 
dismal  fortress,  with  no  outlook  except  black  lava-crags,  and  deep  gorges, 
yawning  in  seemingly  bottomless  depths.  Burning  with  zeal,  he  found 
himself  set  aside  as  if  'forsaken  by  God,  or  of  no  nse  in  His  Kingdom. 
Even  the  people  appeared  to  have  forgotten  him,  for  their  fickle  applause 
had  begun  to  lessen,  even  before  his  imprisonment.  His  work  seemed  t«, 
have  been  without  results ;  a  momentary  excitement  which  had  already 
died  away.  He  could  not  hope  for  visits  from  Jesus,  which  would  only 
have  given  a  second  prisoner  to  Machaerus — "  the  Black  Castle." 

The  reaction  from  the  sense  of  boundless  liberty  in  the  desert  and  the 
stir  and  enthusiasm  of  the  great  assemblies  at  the  fords  of  the  Jordan,  to 
the  forced  inaction  and  close  walls  of  a  prison,  affected  even  the  strong 
and  firm  soul  of  the  hero,  as  similar  influences  have  affected  the  bravest 
hearts  since  his  day.  Moses  and  Elijah  had  had  their  times  of  profound 
despondency,  and  it  was  no  wonder  that  a  passing  cloud  threw  its  shadow 
over  the  Baptist  in  his  lonely  dungeon. 

The  answer  of  Jesus  was  full  of  calm  dignity.  Isaiah,  the  special 
favourite  of  John,  had  given  the  marks,  ages  before,  by  which  the  Messiah 
should  be  known,  and  these  Jesus  proceeded  at  once  to  display  to  the  dis- 
ciples sent  from  Machaerus.  Among  the  crowds  around  Him,  there  were 
always  many  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  hope  of  a  miraculous  cure  of 
their  diseases  or  infirmities,  and  these  He  forthwith  summoned  to  His 
presence,  and  healed.  John  would  understand  the  significance  of  such  an 
answer,  and  it  left  undisturbed  the  delicacy  which  shrank  from  verbal 
self-assertion.  His  acts,  and  the  gracious  words  that  accompanied  them, 
were  left  to  speak  for  Him.  It  was  enough  that  He  should  refer  the 
envoys  to  Isaiah,  and  to  what  they  saw.  "  Go  your  way,  and  tell  John 
what  you  have  seen  and  heard.     The  blind  sec,  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers 


422  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear,  the  dead  are  raised,  and  the  poor  have  the 
Gospel  preached  to  them."  "  Tell  him,  moreover,  that  I  know  how  ho  is 
tempted ;  but  let  him  comfort  himself  with  the  thought  that  he  who  holds 
fast  his  faith  in  spite  of  all  fiery  trials,  and  does  not  reject  the  kingdom  of 
God  because  of  its  small  beginnings,  and  gentle  spirituality,  so  diil'ercnt 
from  the  worldly  poY»^er  and  glory  expected,  already  has  the  blessings  it  is 

sent  to  bring." 

The  messengers  had  hardly  departed,  when  His  full  heart  broke  out  into 
a  eulogy  on  John,  tender,  lofty,  and  fervent.  "It  was  no  weak  and  waver- 
ing man,"  said  He,  "  bending  this  way  and  that,  like  the  tall  waving  reeds, 
that  ye  went  out  in  bands  to  the  desert  banks  of  the  Jordan  to  see  !  ISTo 
soft  and  silken  man,  tricked  out  in  splendid  dress,  and  living  on  dainty 
fare,  like  the  glittering  courtiers  at  Tiberias  !  John  was  a  proj^het  of  God 
— aye,  the  last  and  the  greatest  of  prophets,  for  he  was  sent  as  the  herald 
to  prepare  the  way  for  me,  the  Messiah  !  I  tell  you,  among  all  that  have 
been  born  of  women,  a  greater  and  more  honoured  than  John  the  Baptist 
has  not  risen  !  " 

Passing  from  this  tender  tribute,  which  Ho  had  already  paid  to  His 
great  forerunner,  even  before  the  authorities  at  Jerusalem,  He  proceeded, 
as  was  meet,  to  point  out  the  greater  privileges  enjoyed  by  His  hearers,  than 
even  by  one  so  famous.  "  He  was  great  indeed  in  the  surpassing  dignity 
of  his  office,  as  the  herald  of  the  Kingdom ;  yet  one  far  less,  but  still  a 
member  of  that  Kingdom  which  is  now  set  up  among  you,  is  greater  in 
the  honour  of  his  citizenship  than  he,  for  he  stood  outside.  But  he  did  a 
mighty  work  ;  he  roused  the  land  to  a  grand  earnestness  for  the  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah,  and  they  who  were  thus  stirred  by  him,  are  those  now 
being  received  into  it.  The  Prophets  and  the  Law  only  prophesied  of 
my  coming :  John  announced  me  as  having  come.  Believe,  he  was  the 
Elias  who  was  to  appear." 

To  a  Jewish  audience,  no  honour  could  be  so  great  as  this,  for  Elijah 
was  the  greatest  of  all  the  prophets.  "  Elijah  appeared,"  says  the  son 
of  Sirach,  "  a  jorophet  like  fire,  and  his  words  burned  like  a  torch.  He 
brought  down  famine  on  Israel,  and  by  his  stormy  zeal,  he  took  it  away. 
Through  the  word  of  the  Lord  he  shut  up  the  heavens,  and  thrice  brought 
down  fire  from  them.  Oh  !  how  wert  thou  magnified,  0  Elijah,  by  thy 
mighty  deeds,  and  who  can  boast  that  he  is  thine  equal !  He  raised  the 
dead  to  life,  and  brought  them  from  the  underworld  by  the  word  of  the 
Highest.  He  cast  kings  to  destruction,  and  the  noble  from  their  seats. 
He  received  j^ower  to  punish  on  Sinai,  and  judgments  on  Horeb.  He 
anointed  kings  to  revenge  guilt,  and  prophets  to  be  his  successors.  He 
was  carried  up  in  a  flaming  storm,  in  a  chariot  with  horses  of  fire  ;  he  is 
appointed  for  the  correction  of  times  to  come,  to  abate  God's  wrath  before- 
judgment  be  let  loose,  to  turn  the  heart  of  the  father  to  the  sons,  and  to 
restore  the  tribes  of  Jacob.  It  is  well  for  those  Avho  shall  behold  thee  !  " 
All  the  majesty  of  the  prophetic  ofiice  seemed  incorporate  in  the  Tishbite, 
and  yet  this  did  not  appear  enough  to  Jesus  to  express  the  dignity  of 
John,  for  he  was  more  than  a  prophet,  and  no  greater  had  ever  risen 
among  all  the  sons  of  men. 


GALILEE.  423 

The  message  from  John  was  only  the  utterance  of  the  general  feeling 
which,  by  its  want  of  spiritual  elevation,  questioned  the  Messiahship  of 
Jesus,  because  He  had  not  realized  the  national  idea  of  a  Jewish  hero-king, 
at  the  head  of  a  great  revolt  from  Rome,  destroying  the  heathen,  and 
establishing  the  theocracy  by  wonders  like  the  dividing  of  the  Red  Sea,  or 
the  thunderings  of  Sinai.  It  struck  home  to  the  heart  of  the  Saviour, 
that  even  His  hei'ald  should  have  no  higher  or  worthier  conception  of  the 
true  nature  of  the  kingdom  of  God, — that  even  he,  so  near  the  light,^ 
should  have  caught  so  little  of  its  brightness.  No  wonder  the  people,  as 
a  mass,  rejected  Him.  How  long  had  He  taught  in  the  towns  of  Galilee, 
and  yet  how  disproportionately  small  was  the  niimber  He  had  really  won, 
in  spite  of  the  throngs  who  had  pressed  with  eager  curiosity  and  wonder 
round  Him,  and  the  respect  He  had  excited  by  His  teachings  !  His  heart 
was  bowed  with  sorrow.  He  had  come  to  His  own,  and  His  own  did  not 
receive  Him.  Infinite  love  and  pity  for  them  filled  His  soul,  for  He  was 
Himself  a  son  of  Israel,  and  would  fain  have  led  His  brethren  into  the 
New  Kingdom,  as  the  first-fruits  of  the  nations.  But  they  refused  to  let 
themselves  be  delivered  from  the  spiritual  and  moral  slavery  under  which 
they  had  long  sunk.  The  yoke  of  the  Romans  was  not  their  greatest 
misfortune.  That  of  the  dead  letter  and  of  frozen  forms  and  formulii?, 
which  chilled  every  nobler  aspiration,  and  shut  up  the  heart  against  true 
repentance  and  practical  holiness,  was  a  far  greater  calamity.  Even  their 
highest  ideal — the  conception  of  the  Messiah — had  become  a  heated  fan- 
tastic dream  of  universal  dominion,  apart  from  religious  reform.  A 
glimpse  of  other  fields,  which  promised  a  richer  harvest,  had,  however, 
lifted  His  sjairit  to  consoling  thoughts,  for  the  heathen  centurion  had  shown 
the  faith  which  was  wanting  in  Israel.  His  homage  had  been  like  the 
wave-offering  before  God  of  the  first  sheaf  of  the  Gentile  world !  Heathen- 
ism  might  be  sunk  in  error  and  sin,  crime  and  lust,  and  all  moral  confusion 
might  reign  widely  in  it ;  there  was  more  hope  of  repentance  and  a  return 
to  a  better  life,  from  heathen  indifference  or  guilt,  than  from  Jewish 
insane,  self-righteous  pride. 

The  crowd  of  despised  common  people  and  publicans,  to  whom  Jesus 
had  addressed  His  eulogy  of  John,  received  it  with  delight,  for  they  had 
themselves  been  baptized  by  the  now  imprisoned  prophet.  There  were 
not  wanting  others,  however,  whom  it  greatly  offended — the  Pharisees 
and  Scribes  present  for  no  friendly  purpose.  With  the  instinct  of  mono- 
poly, they  condemned  at  once  whatever  had  not  come  through  the  legiti- 
mate channels  of  authorized  teaching.  They  had  gone  out  to  John,  but 
with  the  foregone  conclusion  to  hear,  criticize,  and  reject  him  with  super- 
cilious contempt,  as  only  fit  for  the  vulgar.  Though  a  priest's  son,  he 
was  virtually  a  layman,  for  he  had  not  been  duly  ordained.  He  might 
be  good  enough  in  his  way,  but  he  was  not  a  Rabbi.  He  was  almost  guilty 
of  scliism,  like  Korali.  He  was  not  licensed  by  the  authorities,  and  yet 
preached,  as,  indeed,  for  that  matter,  was  the  case  with  Jesus  Himself.  A 
thought  of  the  bitter  hostility  John  and  He  had  met,  rose  in  the  Saviour's 
mind  at  the  sight  of  the  Rabbis  on  the  skirts  of  the  crowd,  and  the  sad- 
ness and  indignation  of  His  heart  broke  out  in  stern  denunciation.     "  To 


4'24  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Vv'liat  shall  I  liken  the  men  of  this  generation  ?  They  are  like  childi-en  in 
the  empty  market-places,  playing  at  marriages  and  mournings  ;  some  mak- 
ing music  on  the  flute  for  the  one,  some  acting  like  mourners  for  the  other ; 
but  neither  the  cheerful  jaiping,  nor  the  sad  beating  on  the  breast,  jileasing 
the  companion  audience.  John  the  Baptist  came  upholding  the  traditions 
and  customs  of  you  Rabbis ;  for  he  fasted,  and  paid  attention  to  washings 
and  set  prayers,  and  enjoined  these  on  his  disciples  ;  but  you  said  he  "was 
too  strict,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  and  that  he  spoke  in 
so  strange  a  way  because  he  had  a  devil.  I  came  eating  and  drinking — 
neither  a  Nazarite  like  John,  nor  requiring  fasts  like  him ;  nor  avoiding 
the  table  of  all  but  the  ceremonially  i^ure,  like  the  Pharisees ;  and  you 
say  I  am  too  fond  of  eating  and  of  wine,  and  still  worse,  am  a  friend  of 
the  ijublicans  and  sinners  you  despise.  But  the  true  Divine  Avisdom,  whicli 
both  he  and  I  have  proclaimed,  is  justified  by  those  who  honour  and  follow 
it,  for  they  know  its  surpassing  worth,  though  you  treat  it  as  folly  !  The 
Divine  wisdom  of  both  his  and  my  coming  as  we  have  come,  is  vindicated 
by  all  who  humbly  seek  to  be  wise,  and  the  folly  of  men  is  seen  in  their 
fancied  wisdom." 

He  would  fain  have  led  into  the  ways  of  peace  all  to  whom  He  had 
preached  in  His  frequent  journeys.  But  tender  though  He  was,  He  was 
also  stern  when  stolid  obduracy  shut  its  eyes  on  the  sacred  light  He  had 
brought  to  them.  Most  of  His  mighty  works  had  been  done,  and  most 
of  His  no  less  mighty  words  had  been  spoken,  in  Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  and 
Capernaum,  the  district  which  He  had  made  His  home.  But  they  had  led 
to  no  general  penitence.  With  a  voice  of  unspeakable  sadness,  mingled 
with  holy  wrath.  He  denounced  such  wilful  perversity.  "  Woe  unto  thee, 
Chorazin,  woe  unto  thee,  Bethsaida,  for  if  the  mighty  works  I  have  done  in 
you  had  been  done  even  in  Tyre  and  Sidon,  the  types  of  besotted  heathen- 
ism, they  would  have  repented  long  ago,  in  sackcloth  aiid  ashes.  But  I 
say  unto  you.  It  will  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon  in  the  Day  of 
Judgment  than  for  you.  And  thou,  Capernaum,  exalted  to  heaven  by  my 
dwelling  and  working  in  you,  slialt  be  thrust  down  to  Hades,  at  the  Day 
of  Judgment ;  for  if  the  mighty  works  I  have  done  in  thee  had  been  done 
in  Sodom,  it  would  have  remained  until  this  day.  But  I  say  unto  you,  It 
will  be  more  tolerable  for  the  land  of  Sodom,  in  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
than  for  thee  !  " 

It  would  seem  as  if,  at  this  point,  some  communication  that  pleased  Him 
had  been  made  to  Jesus.  Perhaps  His  disciples  had  told  Him  of  some 
success  obtained  among  the  sim^jle  crowds  to  whom  they  had  preached 
the  New  Kingdom.  Whatever  it  was.  He  broke  forth  on  hearing  it  into 
thanksgiving :  "  I  praise  Thee,  0  Father,  Lord  of  Heaven  and  earth,  that 
Thou  hast  hid  the  things  of  Thy  Kingdom  from  those  who  are  thought, 
and  who  think  themselves,  wise,  and  qualified  to  judge— the  Rabbis,  and 
priests,  and  Pharisees— and  hast  revealed  them  to  simple  souls,  unskilled 
in  the  wisdom  of  the  schools.  I  thank  Thee  that  what  is  well-pleasing  to 
Thee  has  happened  thus  !  "  The  New  Kingdom  was  not  to  rest  on  the 
theology  of  the  schoolmen  of  the  day,  or  on  official  authority,  or  on  the 
sanction  of  a  corrupt  Church,  or  on  the  support  of  privileged  classes,  but 


GALILEE.  425 

upon  childlike  faith  and  humble  love.  It  was  not  to  spread  downvrards, 
from  among  the  powerful  and  influential,  but  to  rise  from  amidst  the  weak 
and  ignoble,  the  poor  and  lowly,  who  would  receive  it  in  love  and  humility. 
It  -was  to  spread  upwards  by  no  artificial  aids,  but  by  the  attractions  of  its 
own  heavenly  worth  alone.  It  was  a  vital  condition  of  its  nature  that  it 
should,  for  it  can  only  be  received  in  sincerity,  where  its  unaided  spiritual 
beauty  wins  the  heart. 

Amono'  the  "babes  "  were  doubtless  included  the  confessors  to  be  won 
from  the  world  at  large,  and  not  from  Israel  alone,  for  the  law  of  growth 
from  below,  upwards,  is  that  of  religious  movements  in  every  age  and 
country.  All  reformations  begin  with  the  laity  and  with  the  obscure.  Jesus 
had  nothing  to  hope,  but  everything  to  fear,  from  the  privileged  orders, 
the  learned  guilds,  the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  the  officials  of  the 
Church  generally.  It  sounds  startling  to  read  of  His  thanking  God  that 
these  all-powerful  classes  showed  neither  sympathy  for  the  New  Kingdom 
founded  by  Him,  nor  even  the  power  of  comprehending  it,  and  that  it  was 
left  to  the  simple  and  childlike  minds  of  the  common  people,  in  their  free- 
dom from  prejudice,  to  embrace  it  with  eagerness.  It  was  because  He 
saw  in  the  fact,  the  Divine  law  of  all  moral  and  religious  progress.  New 
epochs  in  the  spiritual  history  of  the  world  always  spring,  like  seeds,  in 
darkness  and  obscurity,  and  only  show  themselves  when  they  have  already 
struck  root  in  the  soil.  The  moral  and  religious  life  finds  an  unnoticed 
welcome  in  the  mass  of  the  people,  when  the  higher  ranks  of  lay,  and  even 
of  ecclesiastical  society,  are  morally  and  spiritually  effete,  unfit  to  introduce 
a  reform,  and  bound  by  their  interests  to  things  as  they  are. 

The  overflowing  fulness  of  heart,  which  had  found  utterance  in  prayer, 
added  a  few  sentences  more,  of  undying  interest  and  beauty.  It  might 
be  feared  that,  if  old  guides  were  forsaken,  those  who  took  Him  for  their 
leader  might  find  Him  unequal  to  direct  them  aright.  To  dispel  any  such 
apprehension  He  draws  aside  the  veil  from  some  of  the  awful  mysteries  of 
His  nature  and  His  relation  to  the  Eternal,  in  words  which  must  have 
strangely  comforted  the  simple  souls  who  heard  them  first,  and  which 
still  cany  with  them  wondrous  spiritual  support,  intensified  by  their  awful 
sublimity  as  the  words  of  One,  in  outward  seeming,  a  man  like  ourselves. 

"All  things  concerning  the  New  Kingdom  are  delivered  unto  me  of  my 
Father— its  founding,  its  establishment,  its  spread.  I  am,  therefore,  the 
King  and  Leader  of  the  new  people  of  God— the  head  of  the  new  Theo- 
cracy, divinely  commissioned  to  rule  over  it.  All  that  I  teach  I  have 
received  from  my  Father.  I  speak,  in  all  things,  the  mind  of  God,  and 
thus  you  are  for  ever  safe.  No  one  but  the  Father,  who  has  commissioned 
and  sent  me  forth— me,  His  Son— knows  fully  what  I  am,  and  what  mea- 
sure of  gifts  I  have  received  as  Messiah.  Nor  does  any  man  know  the  Father, 
in  His  counsels  for  the  salvation  of  man,  as  I,  His  Son,  do,  and  those  to 
whom  I  make  Him  known.  I  am  the  true  Light,  who  alone  can  lighten 
men,  the  one  true  Teacher,  who  cannot  mislead. 

"  Come  unto  me,  therefore,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy-laden  with 
the  burdens  of  rites  and  traditions  of  men,  which  your  teachers  lay  on 
you— you,  who  can  find  no  deliverance  from  the  misery  of  your  souls  by 


426  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST 

all  tliese  observances— and  I  will  give  your  spirits  rest.  Cast  off  their 
heavy  yoke  and  take  mine,  and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  not  hard  and  haughty 
like  your  Eabbis,  but  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  for 
your  souls.  Tor  the  yoke  I  lay  on  you,  the  law  I  require  you  to  honour, 
is  not  like  that  which  you  have  hitherto  borne,  but  brings  health  to  the 
spirit,  and  my  burden  is  light,  for  it  is  the  law  of  love." 

Language  like  this,  briefly  expanded,  for  greater  clearness,  demands 
reverent  thought.  Who  does  not  feel  that  such  words  could  not  fall  from 
the  lips  of  a  siuful  man,  but  only  from  those  of  one  whose  nature  and  life 
lay  far  above  all  human  imperfection?  Who,  even  of  the  highest  or 
wisest,  or  best,  of  human  teachers,  could  invite  all,  without  exception  to 
come  to  him,  with  the  promise  that  he  would  give  them  true  rest  for  their 
souls  ?  And  who,  in  doing  so,  could  speak  of  it  as  a  thing  apparent  to  all 
who  heard  him,  that  he  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart  ?  Who  would  think 
of  claiming  the  stately  dignity  of  sole  representative  of  the  Unseen  God, 
and  who  could  speak  of  God  as  his  Father,  in  the  same  way  as  Jesus  ? 
And  who  would  dare  to  link  Himself  with  tlie  Eternal  in  a  communion  so 
awful  and  an  intor-rcvclation  so  absolute  ?  He  makes  us  feci  that,  as  we 
listen,  we  are  face  to  face  with  the  Incarnate  Divine. 


CHAPTER    XL. 

DARKENING    SHADOWS. — LIFE   IN   GALILEE. 

r  I  THE  rupture  with  the  hierarchical  party  was  not  as  yet  so  pronounced 
-*-  as  to  prevent  a  more  or  less  friendly  intercourse  between  Jesus  and 
some  of  its  members.  An  incident  connected  with  one  happened  about 
this  time. 

A  Pharisee  of  the  name  of  Simon,  who  seems  to  have  been  in  good 
social  position,  had  met  with  Jesus  in  some  of  the  Galila^an  towns,  and 
had  been  so  attracted  by  Him,  that  he  invited  Him  to  His  house,  to  eat 
with  him.  This  was  a  mark  of  high  consideration  from  one  of  a  party 
so  strict,  for  a  Pharisee  was  as  careful  with  whom  he  ate  as  a  Brahmin. 
Defilement  was  temporary  loss  of  caste,  and  neutralized  long-continued 
effort  to  attain  a  higher  grade  of  legal  purity,  and  it  lurked  in  a  thousand 
forms,  behind  the  simplest  acts  of  daily  life  and  intercourse.  To  invite 
one  who  was  neither  a  Pharisee,  nor  a  member  of  even  the  lowest  grade 
of  legal  guilds,  was  amazing  liberality  in  a  Jewish  precisian.  It  would 
seem  as  if,  when  Jesus  accepted  the  invitation,  the  courtesy  had  already 
excited  timid  fear  of  having  gone  too  far,  and  had  given  place  to  a  cold, 
patronizing  condescension,  which  fancied  it  had  conferred,  rather  than 
received,  an  honour  by  His  presence. 

In  the  earlier  ages  of  the  nation  it  had  been  the  habit  to  sit  on  mats  at 
meals,  with  the  feet  crossed  beneath  the  body,  as  at  present  in  the  East, 
round  a  low  table,  now  only  about  a  foot  in  height.  But  the  foreign  custom 
of  reclining  on  cushions,  long  in  use  among  the  Persians,  Greeks,  and 
Eomans,  had  been  introduced  into  Palestine  apparently  as  early  as  the 


DAEKENING   SHADOWS. — LIFE   IN   GALILEE.  427 

days  of  Amos,  and  had  become  general  in  those  of  Christ.  Kaised  divans 
or  table  couches,  provided  with  cushions  and  arranged  on  three  sides  of  a 
square,  supijlied  a  rest  for  gaiests,  and  on  these  they  lay  on  their  left  arm, 
"with  their  feet  at  ease  behind  them,  outside.  The  place  of  honour  was  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  right  side,  which  had  no  one  above  it,  while  all  below 
could  easily  lean  back  on  the  bosom  of  the  person  immediately  behind. 
Hospitality,  among  the  poor,  was  prefaced  by  various  courtesies  and  atten- 
tions to  the  guest,  more  or  less  peculiar  to  the  nation.  To  enter  a  house 
except  with  bare  feet  was  much  the  same  as  our  doing  so  without 
removing  the  hat,  and,  therefore,  all  shoes  and  sandals  were  taken  off  and 
left  at  the  threshold.  A  kiss  on  the  cheek,  from  the  master  of  the  house, 
with  the  invocation  "  The  Lord  be  with  you,"  conveyed  a  formal  welcome, 
and  was  followed,  when  the  guest  took  his  place  on  the  couch,  by  a  servant 
bringing  water  and  washing  the  feet,  to  cool  and  refresh  them,  as  well  as 
to  remove  the  dust  of  the  road  and  give  ceremonial  cleanness.  The  host 
himself,  or  one  of  his  servants,  next  anointed  the  head  and  beard  of  the 
guests  with  fragrant  oil,  attention  to  the  hair  being  a  great  point  with 
Orientals.  Before  and  after  eating,  water  was  again  brought  to  wash  the 
hands,  as  the  requirements  of  legal  purity  demanded,  and  from  the  fact 
that  the  food  was  taken  by  dipping  the  fingers,  or  a  piece  of  bread,  into  a 
common  dish.  "  To  wash  the  hands  before  a  meal,"  says  the  Talmud,  "is 
a  command ;  to  do  so  during  eating  is  left  matter  of  choice,  but,  to  wash 
them  after  it,  is  a  duty." 

With  all  Jews,  but  especially  with  scrupulous  formalists  like  the  Phari- 
sees, religious  observances  formed  a  marked  fea,ture  in  every  entertain- 
ment, however  humble,  and,  as  these  were  duly  prescribed  by  the  Eabbis, 
we  are  able  to  picture  a  meal  like  that  given  to  Jesus  by  Simon. 

Houses  in  the  East  are  far  from  enjoying  the  privacy  we  prize  so 
highly.  Even  at  the  present  day,  strangers  pass  in  and  out  at  pleasure, 
to  see  the  guests,  and  join  in  conversation  with  them  and  with  the  host. 
Among  those  who  did  so  in  Simon's  house,  was  one  at  whose  presence  in 
his  dwelling,  under  any  circumstances,  he  must  have  been  equally  aston- 
ished and  disturbed.  Silently  gliding  into  the  chamber,  ^^erhaps  to  the 
seat  round  the  wall,  came  a  woman,  though  women  could  not  with 
propriety  make  their  appearance  at  such  entertainments.  She  was,  more- 
over, unveiled,  which,  in  itself,  was  contrary  to  recognised  rules.  In  the 
little  town  every  one  was  known,  and  Simon  saw,  at  the  first  glance,  that 
she  was  no  other  than  one  familiar  to  the  community  as  a  j^oor  fallen 
woman.  She  was  evidently  in  distress,  but  he  had  no  eyes  or  heart  for 
such  a  consideration.  She  had  comjoromised  his  respectability,  and  his 
frigid  self-righteousness  could  think  only  of  itself.  To  eat  with  publicans 
or  sinners  was  the  sum  of  all  evils  to  a  Pharisee.  It  was  the  approach  of 
one  under  moral  quarantine,  whose  very  neighbourhood  was  disastrous, 
and  yet,  here  she  was,  in  his  own  house. 

A  tenderer  heart  than  his,  however,  knew  the  deeper  aspects  of  her  case, 
and  welcomed  her  ai^proach.  She  had  listened  to  the  words  of  Jesus, 
perhaps  to  His  invitation  to  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  to  come  to  Plim 
for  rest,  and  was  bowed  down  with  penitent  shame  and  contrition,  which 


428  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

were  tlie  promise  of  a  new  and  purer  life.  Lost,  till  now,  to  self-respect, 
an  outcast  for  whom  no  one  cared,  she  had  found  in  Him  that  there  was  a 
friend  of  sinners,  who  beckoned  even  the  most  hopeless  to  take  shelter  by 
His  side.  In  Him  and  His  words  hope  had  returned,  and  in  His  respect 
for  her  womanhood,  though  fallen,  quickening  self-respect  had  been  once 
more  awakened  in  her  bosom.  She  might  yet  be  saved  from  her  degra- 
dation ;  might  yet  retrace  her  steps  from  pollution  and  sorrow,  to  a  pure 
life  and  jDcace  of  mind.  What  could  she  do  but  seek  the  presence  of  One 
who  had  won  her  back  from  ruin  ?  What  could  she  do  but  express  her 
\owly  gratitude  for  the  sympathy  He  alone  had  shown ;  the  belief  in  the 
possiljility  of  her  restoration  that  had  been  revived  in  her  heart  ? 

The  object  of  her  visit,  however,  was  not  long  a  mystery.  Kneeling  down 
behind  Jesus,  she  proceeded  to  anoint  His  feet  with  fragrant  ointment,  but 
as  she  was  about  to  do  so,  her  tears  fell  on  them  so  fast  that  she  was  fain 
to  wipe  them  with  her  long  hair,  which,  in  her  distress,  had  escaped  its 
fastenings.  To  anoint  the  head  was  the  usual  course,  but  she  would  not 
venture  on  such  an  honour,  and  would  onl}^  make  bold  to  anoint  His  feet. 
Unmindful  of  her  disorder,  which  Simon  coldly  noted  as  an  additional  shame, 
she  could  think  only  of  her  benefactor.  Weeiaing,  and  wiping  away  the 
tears,  and  covering  the  feet  with  kisses,  her  heart  gave  itself  vent  till  it  was 
calmed  enough  to  let  her  anoint  them,  and,  meanwhile,  Jesus  left  her  to 
her  lowly  loving  will. 

The  Pharisee  was  horrified.  That  a  Rabbi  should  allow  such  a  woman, 
or,  indeed,  any  woman,  to  approach  hhn,  was  contrary  to  all  the  traditions, 
but  it  was  incredibly  worse  in  one  whom  the  people  regarded  as  a  prophet. 
He  would  not  speak  aloud,  but  his  looks  showed  his  thoughts.  "  This 
man,  if  He  were  a  prophet,  would  have  known  what  kind  of  woman  this 
is  that  touches  Him,  for  she  is  a  sinner." 

Jesus  saw  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  tui-ning  to  him,  requested 
an  answer  to  a  question.  "  There  was  a  certain  creditor,"  said  He,  "  who 
had  two  debtors.  The  one  owed  him  five  hundred  pence,  the  other  fifty. 
And  when  they  had  nothing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both.  Tell 
me,  therefore,  which  of  them  will  love  him  most?"  Utterly  nnconscious 
of  the  bearing  of  these  words  on  himself,  the  Pharisee  readily  answered, 
that  he  supposed  he  to  whom  the  creditor  forgave  most,  would  love  him 
most. 

"  Thovi  hast  rightly  judged,"  replied  Jesus.  Then,  like  IsTathan  with 
David,  He  proceeded  to  bring  the  parable  home  to  the  conscience  of  His 
host. 

Turning  to  the  weeping,  penitent  woman  at  His  feet,  and  pointing  to 
her,  He  continued,  "  Simon,  seest  thou  this  woman?  I  entered  into  thine 
house ;  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet  as  even  courtesy  demanded  ; 
but  she  has  washed  my  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair. 
Thou,  gavest  me  no  kiss ;  but  this  woman,  since  the  time  I  entered,  has 
not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet  tenderly.  Thou  didst  not  anoint  my  head  with 
oil ;  but  she  has  anointed  my  feet  with  ointment.  I  say  unto  thee,  there- 
fore, her  sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven,  for  she  loved  much ;  but  one 
to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  loves  little."      Then  addressing  the  sobbing 


DARKENING   SHADOWS. — LIFE    IN    GALILEE.  429 

woman  herself,  He  told  her,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven.  Thy  faith  has  saved 
thee  :  go  in  peace !  " 

That  He  should  claim  to  forgive  sins  bad  already  raised  a  charge  of 
blasphemy  against  Him,  and  it  did  not  pass  unnoticed  now.  13 ut  the 
time  had  not  yet  come  for  oj^en  hostility,  and  His  words,  in  the  meanwhile, 
were  only  treasixred  up  to  be  used  against  Him  hereafter. 

We  are  indebted  to  a  notice  in  St.  Luke  for  a  glimpse  of  the  mode  of 
life  of  Jesus  in  tbese  months.  He  seems  to  have  spent  them  in  successive 
circuits,  from  Capernaum  as  a  centre,  through  all  the  towns  and  villages 
of  Galilee,  very  much  as  tbe  Eabbis  were  accustomed  to  do  over  the  coun- 
try at  large.  In  these  journeys  He  was  attended  by  the  Twelve,  and  by 
a  group  of  loving  women,  attracted  to  Him  by  relationship,  or  by  His 
having  healed  them  of  various  diseases  ;  who  provided,  in  part  at  least, 
for  His  wants,  and  those  of  His  followers.  That  He  Avas  not  absolutely 
poor,  in  the  sense  of  suffering  from  want,  is  implied  in  His  recognition 
as  a  Eabbi,  and  even  as  a  prophet,  which  secured  Him  hospitality  and 
welcome,  as  an  act  of  supreme  religious  merit,  wherever  He  went.  To 
entertain  a  Eabbi  was  to  secure  the  favour  of  God,  and  it  was  coveted 
as  a  special  honour.  Thus,  though  he  had  no  home  He  could  call  His 
own.  He  would  never  want  ready  admission  to  the  homes  of  others  where- 
ever  He  went,  so  long  as  popular  prejudice  was  not  excited  against  Him. 
The  cottage  of  Lazarus  at  Bethany  was  only  one  of  many  that  opened  its 
doors  to  Him,  and  He  could  even  reckon  on  a  cheerful  reception  so  con. 
fidently,  as  to  invite  Himself  to  houses  like  that  of  Zaccheus,  or  that  of 
him  in  whose  upper  room  He  instituted  the  Last  Supper.  Many  disciples, 
or  persons  favourably  inclined  to  Him,  were  scattered  over  the  land.  The 
simplicity  of  Eastern  life  favoured  such  kindly  relations,  and  hence  His 
wants  would  be  freely  supplied,  except  in  desert  parts,  or  when  He  was 
journeying  througli  Samaria,  or  distant  places  on  the  frontiers  of  Galilee. 
The  willing  gifts  of  friends,  thrown  into  a  common  fund,  supplied  so  fully 
all  that  was  needed  in  such  cases,  that  there  was  always,  indeed,  a  surplus 
from  which  to  give  to  the  poor. 

The  names  of  some  of  the  group  of  women  who  thus  attended  Jesus 
have  been  handed  down  as  a  fitting  tribute  to  their  devotion,  while  those 
of  the  men  who  followed  Him,  with  the  exception  of  the  twelve  Apostles, 
are  lost.  The  religious  enthusiasm  of  the  age,  always  seen  most  in  the 
gentler  sex,  had  already  sjiread  among  all  Jewish  women,  for  the  Phari- 
sees found  them  their  most  earnest  supporters.  It  was  only  natui'al, 
therefore,  that  Jesus  should  attract  a  similar  devotion.  His  purity  of  soul. 
His  reverent  courtesy  to  the  sex.  His  championship  of  their  equal  dignity 
with  man,  before  God,  and  His  demand  for  supreme  zeal  from  both  sexes, 
in  the  spread  of  the  ISTgav  Kingdom,  dve^v  them  after  Him.  But  so  accus- 
tomed were  all  classes  to  such  attendance  on  their  own  Eabbis,  that  even 
the  enemies  of  Jesus  found  no  ground  for  censuring  it  in  His  case. 

Of  these  earliest  mothers  of  the  Church,  five  are  named.  Mary,  or 
Miriam,  of  the  town  of  Magdala,  from  whom  Jesus  had  cast  seven  devils  ; 
Johanna,  the  wife,  not  the  widow,  of  Chuza,  a  high  ofiicial  in  the  palace 
of  Herod  Antipas  at  Tiberias;  Susanna,  of  whom  only  the  name  is  known ; 


430  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

Mary,  the  mother  of  James  the  Less  and  of  Joscs,  and  wife  of  Clopas  ; 
and  Schelamith,  or  Salome,  mother  of  James  and  John,  and  wife  of  Zebcdco 
or  Zabdai,  perhaps  also  the  sister  of  Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus,  as  Mary 
the  Avife  of  Clopas  is  also  thought  by  many  to  have  been.  Of  this  little 
band,  so  slightly  yet  so  endearingly  mentioned,  a  surpassing  interest  at- 
taches to  Mary  Magdalene,  from  her  unfounded  identification  with  the 
fallen  penitent  who  did  Jesus  honour  in  the  house  of  the  Pharisee  Simon. 
There  is  nothing  whatever  to  connect  her  with  that  narrative,  for  to  think 
that  she  led  a  sinful  life,  from  the  fact  of  her  having  suffered  from  de- 
moniacal 250sscssion,  confounds  what  the  New  Testament  distinguishes  by 
the  clearest  language.  ISTever,  perhaps,  has  a  figment  so  utterly  baseless 
obtained  so  wide  an  acceptance,  as  that  which  we  connect  with  her  name. 
But  it  is  hopeless  to  try  to  explode  it,  for  the  word  has  passed  into  the 
vocabulai-ies  of  Europe  as  a  synonym  of  penitent  frailty. 

Mary  appears  to  have  belonged  to  the  village  of  Magdala,  or  Migdol, 
"  the  Tower,"  about  three  miles  north  of  Tiberias,  on  the  water's  edge,  at 
the  south-east  corner  of  the  plain  of  Gennesareth.  It  is  now  represented 
by  the  few  Avretched  hovels  which  form  the  Mahometan  village  of  El- 
Mejdcl,  with  a  solitary  thorn-bush  beside  it,  as  the  last  trace  of  the  rich 
groves  and  orchards,  amidst  which  it  was,  doubtless,  embowered  in  the 
days  of  our  Lord.  A  high  limestone  rock,  full  of  caves,  overhangs  it  on 
the  south-west,  and  beneath  this,  out  of  a  deep  ravine  at  the  back  of  the 
plain,  a  clear  stream  rushes  joast  to  the  lake,  which  it  enters  through  a 
tangled  thicket  of  thorn  and  willows  and  oleanders,  covered  in  their  season 
with  clouds  of  varied  blossoms.  "Who  Mary  was,  or  what,  no  one  can 
tell ;  but  legend,  with  a  cruel  injustice,  has  associated  her  name  for  ever 
with  the  spot,  now  sacred  to  her,  as  the  lost  one  reclaimed  by  Jesus. 

The  circle  which  thus  attended  Him  on  His  journeys  was  peculiar,  above 
all  things,  in  an  age  of  intense  ritualism,  by  its  slight  care  for  the  external 
observances  and  mortifications,  which  form  the  sum  of  religion  with  so 
many.  This  simplicity  was  made  the  great  accusation  against  Jesus,  as, 
in  after  times,  the  absence  of  sacrifices  and  temples  led  the  heathen  to 
charge  Christianity  with  atheism.  Even  the  initiatory  rite  of  baptism 
had  fallen  into  abeyance,  and  fasting  and  the  established  rules  for  prayer 
and  ceremonial  purifications  were  so  neglected,  as  to  cause  remark  and 
animadversion.  There  is,  indeed,  great  reason  for  the  belief  of  some,  that 
Jesus  and  His  followers  difi'ered,  alike  in  dress,  demeanour,  mode  of  life, 
and  customs,  from  the  teachers  of  the  day  and  their  followers.  Tlio 
simple  tunic  and  ujoper  garment  may  have  had  the  Tallith  worn  by  all 
other  Jews,  but  we  may  be  certain  that  the  tassels  at  its  corners  were  in 
contrast  to  the  huge,  ostentatious  size  affected  by  the  Eabbis.  Nor  can 
we  imagine  that  either  Jesus,  or  the  Twelve,  sanctioned  by  their  use  the 
superstitious  leathern  phylacteries  which  others  bound,  with  long  fillets, 
on  their  left  arm  and  their  forehead,  at  prayers.  The  countless  rules,  then 
as  now  in  force,  for  the  length  of  the  straps,  for  the  size  of  the  leather 
cells  to  hold  the  prescribed  texts  —for  their  shape,  manufacture,  etc.,  and 
even  for  the  exact  mode  of  winding  the  straps  round  the  arm,  or  tying 
them  on  the  forehead — marked  too  strongly  the  cold,  mechanical  concep- 


DAEKENING   SHADOWS. — LIFE   IN    GALILEE.  431 

tions  of  prayer  then  prevailing,  to  let  ns  imagine  tliat  our  Lord  or  the 
disciples  wore  them.  There  was  no  such  neglect  of  the  person  as  many 
of  His  contemporaries  thought  identical  with  holiness,  for  He  did  not  de- 
cline the  anointing  of  His  head  or  beard,  or  the  washing  of  His  feet,  at 
each  resting-place.  Iv'or  did  He  require  ascetic  restrictions  at  table,  for 
Avc  find  Him  permitting  the  use  of  wine,  bread,  and  honey,  and  of  fish, 
flesh,  and  fowl.  In  Peter's  hoiise  He  invited  others  to  eat  v."ith  Him  ;  and 
He  readily  accepted  invitations,  with  all  the  customary  refinements  of  the 
kiss  of  salutation,  and  foot-washing,  and  anointing  even  with  the  costliest 
perfume.  The  Pharisee  atoned  for  his  occasional  entertainments  by  fast-  j 
ing  on  Mondays  and  Thursdays,  but  Jesus  exposed  Himself  to  the  charge  ' 
of  indulgence,  because  He  never  practised  even  such  intermittent  austeri-  . 
ties.  Expense  was,  however,  the  exception  and  not  the  rule,  for  He  praised 
the  Baptist  for  having  nothing  costly  or  effeminate  in  his  dress,  and  He 
enjoined  the  strictest  moderation,  both  in  appearaiice  and  living,  on  His 
disciples. 

It  is  the  great  characteristic  of  Jesus  that  He  elevated  the  common 
details  of  life  to  the  loftiest  uses,  and  ennobled  even  the  familiar  and 
simple.  In  His  company,  the  evening  meal,  when  not  forgotten  in  the 
press  of  overwhelming  labours,  was  an  opportunity  always  gladly  embraced 
for  informal  instruction,  not  only  to  the  Twelve,  but  to  the  many  strangers 
whom  the  easy  manners  of  the  East  permitted  to  gather  in  the  apartment. 
After  evening  devotions,  the  family  group  invited  the  familiar  and  un-  i 
constrained  exchange  of  thought,  in  which  Jesus  so  much  delighted.  As  j 
the  Father  and  Head  of  the  circle,  He  would,  doubtless,  use  the  form  of 
thanks  and  blessing  hallowed  by  the  custom  of  His  nation,  opening  the 
meal  by  the  bread  and  wine  passed  round  to  be  tasted  by  each,  after 
acknowledgment  of  the  bounty  of  God  in  His  gifts.  Then  would  follow 
a  word  to  all,  in  turn :  the  story  of  the  day,  and  each  one's  share  in  it, 
would  be  reviewed  with  tender  blame,  or  praise,  or  counsel:  and  the  faith, 
and  hope,  and  love  of  all  would  be  refreshed  by  their  very  meeting  round 
the  table.  How  dear  these  hours  of  quiet  home  life  were  to  Jesus  Himself, 
is  seen  in  the  tenderness  with  which  He  saw  His  "  children  "  in  the  group 
they  brought  around  Him, — as  if  they  replaced  in  His  heart  the  hovisehold 
affections  of  the  family ;  and  in  the  pain  and  almost  v/omanly  fondness, 
with  which  He  hesitated  to  pronounce  His  last  farewell  to  thera.  To  the 
disciples  themselves,  they  grew  to  be  an  imperishable  memory,  which  they 
were  fain,  in  compliance  with  their  Master's  wish,  to  perpetuate  daily,  in 
their  breaking  of  bread.  His  greatness  and  condescension,  the  loving 
familiarity  and  fond  endearments  of  close  intercourse,  the  peace  and  quiet 
after  the  strife  of  the  day,  the  feeling  of  security  mider  His  eye  and  care, 
made  these  hours  a  recollection  that  grew  bi'ightcr  and  more  sacred  Vv'ith 
the  lapse  of  years,  and  deepened  the  longing  for  His  return,  or  for  their 
departure  to  be  with  Him. 

In  this  delightful  family  life  there  was,  hov/ever,  nothing  like  com-  J 
miuiism,  for  there  is  not  a  trace  of  the  property'  of  each  being  thrown  into  i 
a  common  fund.  His  disciples  had,  indeed,  left  all ;  but  they  had  not  sold  • 
it  to  help  the  general  treasury.     Some  of  them  still  retained  funds  of  their 


432  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

own,  and  the  women  who  accompanied  them  still  kept  their  property. 
When  Jesus  paid  the  Temple  tax  for  Himself  and  Peter,  He  did  not  think 
of  doing  so  for  all  His  disciples.  It  was  left  to  them  to  pay  for  themselves. 
The  simple  wants  of  each  day  were  provided  by  free  contributions,  when 
not  proffered  by  hospitality,  nor  did  He  receive  even  these  from  His 
disciples,  though  Eabbis  were  permitted  to  accept  a  honorarium  from 
their  scholars.  "Ye  have  received  for  nothing,"  said  He,  "give  for 
nothing."  He  took  no  gifts  of  money  from  the  people,  nor  did  He  let  His 
disciples  collect  alms,  as  the  Eabbis  did  their  scholars.  The  only  bounty 
He  accepted  was  the  entertainment  and  shelter  always  ready  for  Him  in 
friendly  Galilee.  From  the  generous  women  who  followed  Him,  He,  in- 
deed, accepted  passing  su]:)port,  but,  in  contrast  to  the  greed  of  the  Eabbis 
He  only  used  their  liberality  for  the  need  of  the  moment.  His  little  circle 
was  never  allowed  to  suffer  want,  but  was  always  able  to  distribute 
charity,  and,  though  He  seems  to  have  carried  no  money.  He  expressly 
distinguishes  both  Himself  and  His  disciples  from  the  poor. 

His  presence  among  His  disciples  was  seldom'  interrupted,  even  for  a 
brief  interval.  He  might  be  summoned  to  heal  some  sick  person,  or 
invited  to  some  meal :  or  He  might  wish  to  be  alone,  for  a  time,  in  His 
chamber  or  among  the  hills,  while  He  prayed;  but  these  Avere  only 
absences  of  a  few  hours.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  kiss  of  salutation  in 
such  cases  greeted  His  return.  He  gave  tlie  word  for  setting  out  on  a 
journey,  or  for  going  by  boat,  and  the  disciples  procured  what  was  needed 
by  the  way,  if  by  land,  and  plied  the  oar,  if  on  the  lake. 

He  always  travelled  on  foot,  and  was  often  thankful  for  a  draught  of 
water,  as  He  toiled  along  the  hot  sides  of  the  white  hills,  or  for  a  piece  of 
bread,  procured  in  some  village  through  which  He  passed.  Sometimes 
He  went  with  His  disciples,  sometimes  before  them  :  leaving  them  to  their 
own  conversation,  but  noting  and  reproving,  at  once,  their  misunderstand- 
ings, or  momentary  misconceptions. 

When  a  resting-place  had  to  be  found  for  the  night.  He  was  wont  to 
send  on  some  of  His  disciples  before,  or  He  awaited  an  invitation  on  His 
arrival ;  His  disciples  sharing  the  friendly  welcome,  or  distributing  them- 
selves in  other  houses.  The  entertainment  must  have  varied  in  different 
dwellings,  from  the  simplicity  of  the  prophet's  chamber  where  the 
Shunammite  had  provided  a  bed,  a  table,  a  stool,  and  a  lamp,  to  the 
friendship,  and  busy  womanly  ministrations,  and  homage  of  lowly  disciple- 
ship,  of  homes  like  the  cottage  of  Bethany.  Where  He  was  received.  He 
entered  with  the  invocation,  "  Peace  be  to  this  house  " — but,  unlike  the 
Pharisees,  without  asking  any  questions  as  to  the  Levitical  cleanness  of 
the  house,  or  its  tables,  or  benches,  or  vessels.  It  was  very  rarely,  one 
would  suppose,  that  He  was  not  gladly  enteitained,  biit  when  at  any  time 
He  met  inhospitality.  He  only  went  on  to  the  next  village.  Sometimes 
He  bore  His  rejection  silently,  but  at  others,  moved  at  the  sjiirit  evinced, 
He  shook  the  very  dust  of  the  town  from  His  feet  on  leaving  it,  as  a  pro- 
test. When  meekness  could  be  shown  He  showed  it,  but  where  circum- 
stances demanded.  He  was  as  stern  as  commonly  He  was  gentle. 

It  is  not  easy  to  realize  the  dailv  life  of  one  so  different  from  ourselves 


DARKENING   SHADOWS. — LIFE    IN    GALILEE.  433 

as  Jesus,  but  a  delicately  iioetical  mind  lias  imagined  the  scene  of  tlie 
healing  of  Mai-y  Magdalene,  and  the  appearance  and  acts  of  Christ  so 
finely,  that  I  borrow  some  passages  from  His  pen. 

The  landing-place  at  Capernaum  was  at  the  south  side  of  the  town. 
Thither  the  boats  came  that  brought  over  wood  from  the  forests  of 
Gaulonitis,  and  thither  the  boat  steered  that  bore  Jesus,  His  four  earliest 
disci2:)les  acting  as  boatmen.  He  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake, 
and  had  returned  now,  in  the  evening.  The  sun  was  just  setting,  but  a 
few  beams  seemed  to  have  lingered,  to  die  away  on  His  face,  and  the  full 
moon  rose,  from  behind  the  brown  hills  still  bathed  in  purple,  as  if  to  see 
Him.  The  soft  evening  wind  had  risen  to  cool  His  brow,  and  the  waters, 
sjaarkling  in  the  moonlight,  heaved  and  sank  round  the  boat,  rocking  it 
gently.  As  it  touched  the  shore  there  were  few  people  about,  but  a  boat 
from  Magdala  lay  near,  with  a  sick  person  in  it,  whom  it  had  taken  her 
mother's  utmost  strength  to  hold,  and  keep  from  uttering  loud  cries  of 
distress.  She  had  been  brought  in  the  hope  of  finding  Jesus,  that  He 
might  cure  her. 

"Master,"  said  John,  "there  is  work  yonder  for  you  already."  "I  must 
always  be  doing  the  work  of  Him  that  sent  me,"  replied  Jesus ;  "  the  night 
Cometh  when  no  man  can  work."  The  mother  of  the  sick  woman  had 
recognised  Him  at  the  first  glance,  for  no  one  could  mistake  Him,  and 
forthwith  cried  out  with  a  heart-rending  voice,  "  O  Jesus,  our  helper  and 
teacher.  Thou  Messenger  of  the  All-Merciful,  help  my  poor  child, — for  the 
Holy  One,  blessed  be  His  name,  has  heard  my  prayer  that  we  should  find 
Thee,  and  Thou  us."  Peter  forthwith,  with  the  helj)  of  the  other  three, 
who  had  let  their  oars  rest  idly  on  the  water,  turned  the  boat,  so  that  it 
lay  alongside  the  one  from  Magdala.  Jesus  now  rose  ;  the  mother  sank  on 
her  knees ;  but  the  sick  woman  tried  with  all  her  might  to  break  away, 
and  to  throw  herself  into  the  water,  on  the  far  side  of  the  boat.  The 
steersman,  however,  and  John,  who  had  sprung  over,  held  her  Ijy  the  arms, 
while  her  mother  buried  her  face  in  the  long  plaited  hair  of  her  child. 
Her  tears  had  ceased  to  flow ;  she  was  lost  in  silent  prayer.  "  Where  are 
these  people  from  ?  "  asked  Jesus  of  the  boatman,  and  added,  to  His  dis- 
ciples, when  He  heard  that  she  came  from  Magdala,  "  Woe  to  this  Magdala, 
for  it  will  become  a  ruin  for  its  wickedness !  The  rich  gifts  it  sends  to 
Jerusalem  will  not  help  it,  for,  as  the  prophet  says,  '  They  are  bought  with 
the  wages  of  uucleanness,  and  to  that  they  will  again  return.'  Turn  her 
face  to  me,  that  I  may  see  her,"  added  He.  It  was  not  easy  to  do  this,  for 
the  sick  one  held  her  face  bent  over  towards  the  water,  as  far  as  possible. 
John  managed  it,  however,  by  kind  words.  "  Mary,"  said  he,  for  he  had 
asked  her  mother  her  name,  "  do  you  wish  to  be  for  ever  under  the  power 
of  demons  ?  See,  the  Conqueror  of  demons  is  before  thee  ;  look  on  Him, 
that  you  may  be  healed.  We  are  all  praying  for  you,  as  Moses,  peace  be 
to  him,  once  prayed  for  his  sister, — '  0  God,  heal  her.'  Do  not  put  our 
prayer  to  shame ;  now  is  the  moment  when  you  can  make  yourself  and 
your  mother  happy."  These  words  told ;  and  no  longer  opposing  strength 
to  strength,  she  allowed  them  to  raise  her  head,  and  turn  her  face  to  Jesus. 
But  when  she  saw  Him,  her  whole  body  was  so  violently  convulsed,  that 


434  THE   LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

the  boat  swayed  to  and  fro,  and  she  shrieked  out  the  most  piercing  wails, 
which  sounded  far  over  the  lake. 

Jesus,  however,  fixing  His  eyes  on  hers,  kept  them  from  turning  away, 
and  as  He  gazed,  His  look  seemed  to  enter  her  soul,  and  break  the  seven- 
fold chain  in  which  it  lay  bound.  The  poor  raving  creature  now  became 
quiet,  and  did  not  need  to  be  held ;  her  convulsions  ceased,  the  contortions 
of  her  features  and  the  wildness  of  her  eyes  passed  off,  and  profuse  sweat 
burst  from  her  brow  and  mingled  with  her  tears.  Her  mother  stepped 
back,  and  the  healed  one  sank  down  on  the  sjDot  where  her  mother  had 
been  praying,  and  muttered,  with  subdued  treinbling  words,  to  Jesus, — 
"  O  Lord,  I  am  a  great  sinner ;  is  the  door  of  repentance  still  open  for 
me  ?  "  "  Be  comforted,  my  daughter,"  answered  He,  "  God  has  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  thou  hast  been  a  habitation  of  evil  spirits, 
become  now  a  temple  of  the  living  God."  The  mother,  unable  to  restrain 
herself,  broke  out — "  Thanks  to  Thee,  Thou  Consolation  of  Israel,"  but  He 
went  on, — "  Eeturn  now,  quickly,  to  Magdala,  and  be  calm,  and  give  thanks 
to  God  in  silence."  John  stepped  back  into  the  boat  to  Jesus,  and  the 
other  boat  shot  out  into  the  lake,  on  the  way  home.  The  two  women  sat 
on  the  middle  seat.  Mary  held  her  mother  in  her  arms  in  grateful  thanks, 
and  neither  spoke,  but  both  kept  their  eyes  fixed  on  Jesus,  till  the  shore, 
jutting  out  westwards,  hid  Him  from  their  sight. 

When  the  boat  with  the  women  was  gone,  Peter  bound  his  to  the  post 
to  which  the  other  had  been  tied,  but  Jesus  sat  still  in  deep  thought  with- 
out looking  round,  and  the  disciples  remained  motionless  beside  Him,  for 
reverence  forbade  them  to  ask  Him  to  go  ashore.  Meanwhile,  the  people 
of  Capernaum,  men,  women,  and  children,  streamed  down  in  bands  ;  some 
soldiers  of  the  Roman-Herodian  garrison,  and  some  strange  faces  from 
Perea,  Decapolis,  and  Syria,  among  them. 

The  open  space  had  filled,  and  now  Peter  ventured  to  whisper,  in  a  low 
voice  which  concealed  his  impatience,  "  Maranu  we  Eabbinu — Our  Lord 
and  Master — the  people  have  assembled  and  wait  for  Thee."  On  this 
Jesus  rose.  Peter  made  a  bridge  from  the  boat  to  the  shore  with  a  plank, 
hastening  across  to  make  it  secure,  and  to  open  the  way ;  for  the  crowd 
was  very  dense  at  the  edge  of  the  water.  Christ  now  left  the  boat  fol- 
lowed by  the  three  other  disciples,  and,  when  He  had  stepped  ashore,  said 
to  Peter, — "  Schim'on  Kefa  " — for  thus  He  addressed  him  Avhen  He  had 
need  of  his  faithful  and  zealous  service  in  the  thins-s  of  the  kingdom  of 
God — "  I  shall  take  my  stand  under  the  palm-tree  yonder."  It  was  hard, 
however,  to  make  way  through  the  crowd,  for  those  who  had  set  them- 
selves nearest  the  water  were  mostly  sick  people,  to  whom  the  others,  from 
compassion,  had  given  the  front  place.  Indeed,  Jesus  had  scarcely  landed, 
before  cries  for  help  rose,  in  different  dialects,  and  in  every  form  of  appeal. 
"  Rabbi,  Eabboni,"  "  Holy  One  of  the  Most  High  ! "  "  Son  of  David  ! ' 
"  Son  of  God !  "  mingled  one  with  the  other.  Jesus,  however,  waving  them 
back  with  His  hand,  said,  "  Let  me  pass  !  to-night  is  not  to  be  for  the 
healing  of  your  bodily  troubles,  but  that  you  may  hear  the  word  of  life, 
for  the  good  of  your  souls."  On  hearing  this  they  pi'essed  towards  Him 
that  they  might  at  least  touch  Him.     Wlien,  at  last,  with  the  help  of  His 


DAEIiENING    SHADOWS, — LIFE    IN    GALILEE.  435 

disciples,  He  made  His  way  to  the  palm,  He  motioned  to  tlie  people  to  sit 
down  on  tlie  grass.  The  knoll  from  which  the  palm  rose  was  only  a  slight 
one,  but  when  the  crowd  had  arranged  themselves  in  rows,  it  sufficed  to 
lift  Him  sufficiently  above  them.  The  men  stood  in  the  background,  leav- 
ing the  front  for  the  women  and  children. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  think  of  Jesus  standing  while  He  taught.  He  stood 
in  the  synagogue  at  Nazareth  while  the  Prophets  were  being  read,  but  He 
sat  down  to  teach.  He  sat  as  He  taught  in  the  Temple,  and  when  He  ad- 
dressed the  multitude  whom  He  had  miraculously  fed ;  and  when  He  spoke 
from  Simon  Peter's  boat.  He  did  so  sitting. 

Under  the  palm  lay  a  large  stone,  on  which  many  had  sat  before,  to 
enjoy  the  view  over  the  lake,  or  the  shade  of  the  branches  above.  The 
Eabbis  often  chose  such  open  air  spots  for  their  addresses.  There  Avas 
nothing  extraordinary,  therefore,  when  Jesus  sat  down  on  it,  and  made  it 
His  pulpit.  His  dress  was  clean  and  carefully  chosen,  but  simple.  On 
His  head,  held  in  its  place  by  a  cord.  He  wore  a  white  sudar,  the  ends  of 
which  hung  down  His  shoulders.  Over  His  tunic,  which  reached  to  the 
hands  and  feet,  was  a  blue  Tallith,  with  the  prescribed  tassels  at  the  four 
corners,  but  only  as  large  as  Moses  required.  It  was  so  thrown  over  Him, 
and  so  held  together,  that  the  grey  red-striped  under-garment  was  little 
seen,  and  His  feet,  which  had  sandals,  not  shoes,  were  only  noticed  occa- 
sionally, when  He  moved.  When  He  had  sat  down  and  looked  over  the 
people,  they  became  stiller  and  stiller,  till  nothing  was  heard  but  the  soft 
plash  of  the  ripple  on  the  beach. 

As  Pie  sat  on  the  stone,  Simon  and  Andrew,  the  sons  of  Jonas,  stood  on 
His  right  and  left  hand,  with  James  and  John,  the  sons  of  Zaljdai.  The 
people  stood  around  the  slope,  for  as  yet  Rabbis  were  heard,  standing. 
"  Sickness  came  into  the  world,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  when  Rabban  Gama- 
liel died,  and  it  became  the  rule  to  hear  the  Law  sitting."  "  Sons  of  Israel, 
men  of  Galilee,"  He  began,  "  the  time  is  fulfilled,  and  the  kingdom  of  God 
has  come  ;  repent,  and  believe  the  Gospel.  Moses,  your  Teacher,  peace  be 
to  him,  has  said — '  A  prophet  will  the  Lord  your  God  raise  unto  you  from 
your  brethren,  like  unto  me.  Him  shall  ye  hear.  But  he  who  will  not 
hear  this  larophct  shall  die  ! '  Amen,  I  say  unto  you  :  he  who  believes  on 
me  has  everlasting  life.  No  man  knows  the  Father  but  the  Son,  and  no 
man  knows  the  Son  biit  the  Father,  and  he  to  whom  the  Son  reveals 
Him."  Then,  with  a  louder  voice.  He  continued,  "  Come  to  me,  all  ye 
that  labour  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you  and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall 
find  rest  for  your  souls.  For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light." 
Then,  drawing  to  a  close,  He  added,  "Take  on  you  the  yoke  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law  and 
the  Prophets.  Give  up  that  which  is  worth  little,  that  you  may  have 
what  is  of  great  price.  Become  wise  changers  who  value  holy  money 
above  all  other,  and  the  pearl  of  price  above  all.  lie  tliat  has  cars  to  hear, 
let  him  hear," 


436  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE    BURSTING    OF   THE    STOKM. 

THE  summer  passed  in  a  succession  of  excitements  and  an  unbroken 
recurrence  of  exhausting  toil.  Wherever  Jesus  appeared  He  "vvas 
surroimded  by  crowds,  anxious  to  see  and  to  hear.  The  sick  everywhere 
pressed  in  His  way,  and  friends  brought  the  bed-ridden  and  helpless  to 
Him,  from  all  quarters.  From  early  morning  till  night,  day  by  day,  with- 
out respite,  there  was  a  strain  on  mind,  heart,  and  body,  alike.  Even  the 
retirement  of  the  house  in  which  He  might  be  resting,  could  not  save  Him 
from  intruding  crowds,  and  time  or  free  space  for  meals  was  hardly  to  be 
had.  Such  tension  of  His  whole  nature  must  have  told  on  Him,  and  must 
have  affected  His  whole  nervous  and  physical  system.  To  be  continually 
surrounded  by  misery  in  every  form,  is  itself  distressing;  but,  in  addition 
to  this,  to  be  kept  on  the  strain  by  the  higher  spiritual  excitement  of  a 
great  religious  crisis  and  to  be  overtaxed  in  mere  physical  demands,  could 
not  fail  to  show  results,  in  careworn  features,  feverishness  of  the  brain, 
and  the  need  of  temporary  quiet  and  rest.  Yet  sympathy  was  felt  for  Him 
only  by  a  few.  The  thoughtless  crowds  did  not  realize  that  they  were 
consuming  in  the  fires  of  its  own  devotion,  the  nature  they  intended  to 
honour,  and  His  enemies,  seeing  everything  only  through  the  disturb- 
ing light  of  their  hatred,  invented  a  theory  for  it  all  that  was  sinister 
enough. 

The  continued  and  increasing  support  Jesus  received  from  the  people, 
was  a  daily  growing  evil,  in  the  eyes  of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities. 
They  were  in  danger  of  losing  their  influence,  which  they  identified  with 
the  interests  of  orthodoxy,  and  national  favour  with  God.  They  had  let 
Him  gather  four  or  five  disciples,  without  feeling  alarmed,  for  a  move- 
ment as  yet  so  insignificant  was  almost  beneath  their  notice.  The  choice 
of  a  publican  as  one  of  this  handful  had,  indeed,  apparently  neutralized 
any  possible  danger,  by  the  shock  it  gave  to  public  feeling.  The  further 
selection  of  the  Twelve  was,  however,  more  serious.  It  seemed  like  con- 
solidation, and  progress  towards  open  schism.  There  were,  already,  parties 
in  Judaism,  but  there  were  no  sects,  for  all  were  alike  fanatically  loyal  to 
the  Law,  the  Temple,  and  the  scribes,  and  ready  to  unite  against  any  one 
who  did  not  identify  himself  with  them,  in  every  sense.  Criticism  was 
utterly  proscribed :  blind  worship  of  things  as  they  were  was  iiuperatively 
required,  and  hence,  Jesus,  with  His  free  examination  of  received  opinions, 
provoked  the  bitterest  hostility.  As  long,  however,  as  He  had  no  fol- 
lowing He  was  little  dreaded,  but  signs  of  organization  and  permanence, 
such  as  the  choice  of  the  Twelve,  and  the  growing  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  towards  Him,  determined  the  authorities  on  vigorous  action. 
Information  was  laid  against  Him  at  Jerusalem,  where  He  had  already 
been  challenged,  and  Eabbis  were  sent  down  to  investigate  the  whole 
question. 

Every  movement  which  did  not  rise  in  the  Rabbinical  schools  was 
suspected  by  the  Rabbis  and  their  disciples,  and  there  Avere  circumstances 


THE    BURSTING   OF    THE    STORM.  437 

hi  that  of  Jesus,  which  were  especially  formidable.  The  superhuman 
powers  He  displayed  could  not  be  questioned,  and  the  Rabbis  could  boast 
of  nothing  as  imposing.  They  were  falling  into  the  shade.  Eespect  for 
Jesus  was  growing  among  the  people,  in  spite  of  them.  His  claims  were 
daily  urged  more  frankly,  and  the  masses  were  disposed  to  assent  to 
them.  On  His  return  to  Capernaum  He  had  cured  a  man  who  was  blind, 
dumb,  and  mad,  and  possessed,  besides,  with  a  devil;  and  so  astounding  a 
miracle  had  raised  the  question,  far  and  wide,  whether,  in  spite  of  their 
former  ideas.  He  were  not  the  Son  of  David — the  Messiah,  after  all.  ]Mcn 
had,  indeed,  expected  an  outward  political  kingdom,  with  ablaze  of  miracle 
wrought  on  behalf  of  the  nation  at  large,  but  they  began  to  ask  each  other, 
"  When  the  Christ  cometh  will  He  do  more  miracles  than  this  man  has 
done?"  It  could  not  be  endured.  The  movement  of  John  had  just  been 
crushed,  and  now,  in  restless  Galilee,  one  far  more  dangerous  to  the  Jeru- 
salem dignitaries  was  rapidly  taking  shape  and  consistence.  It  must  be 
put  down  at  any  cost. 

The  Rabbis  from  the  capital,  reverend  and  grey,  did  not  know  whether 
to  be  more  bitter  at  the  discredit  thrown  on  their  own  claims  to  super- 
natural powers,  or  at  the  popular  favour  shown  to  Jesus.  He  cast  out 
devils,  indeed,  but  so  did  they,  and  their  disciples,  the  exorcists.  It  was 
enough  for  Him,  however,  to  speak,  and  the  sufferer  was  cured  of  all 
ailments  alike,  while  they  used  adjurations,  spells,  and  magic  formulsB, 
Avhich  were  dangerously  like  the  superstitions  of  the  despised  heathen. 
They  laid  stress  on  their  knowledge  of  the  secret  names  of  God  and  the 
angels.  To  utter  the  cipher  which  stood  for  these,  was,  in  their  belief, 
to  set  in  motion  the  Divine  and  angelic  powers  themselves,  and  a  whole 
science  of  the  black  art  had  been  invented,  defining  how  and  for  what  ends 
they  could  be  pressed  into  the  service  of  their  invoker,  like  the  genii  of 
the  Arabian  Nights  into  that  of  a  magician. 

The  calm  dignity  and  simplicity  of  Jesus,  contrasted  with  their  doubtful 
rites,  was,  indeed,  humiliating  to  them.  The  mightiest  of  all  agencies  at 
their  command  was  the  unutterable  name  of  "  Jehovah  " — called  in  the 
Book  of  Enoch,  in  the  jargon  of  the  Rabbinical  exorcists— the  oath  Akal 
and  "  the  number  of  Kesbeel."  By  this  number,  or  oath,  it  was  held,  all 
that  is  has  its  being.  It  had  also  a  secret  magical  power.  It  was  made 
known  to  men  by  the  wicked  angels — "the  sons  of  God" — who  allied 
themselves  with  women,  and  brought  on  the  flood.  "  It  was  revealed  by 
the  Head  of  the  Oath  to  the  holy  ones  who  dwell  above  in  majesty ;  and 
his  name  is  Beqa.  And  He  said  to  the  holy  Michael  that  He  should  reveal 
to  them  that  seci-et  name,  that  they  might  see  it,  and  that  they  might  use 
it  for  an  oath,  that  they  Avho  reveal  to  the  sons  of  men  all  that  is  hidden, 
may  shrink  away  before  that  name  and  that  oath.  And  this  is  the  power 
of  that  oath,  and  these  are  its  secret  works,  and  these  things  were  estab- 
lished by  the  swearing  of  it.  The  heaven  was  hung  up  for  ever  and  ever 
(by  it),  before  the  world  was  created.  By  it  the  earth  was  foimded  above 
the  water,  and  the  fair  streams  come  by  it  for  the  use  of  the  living,  from 
the  hidden  places  of  the  hills,  from  the  foundation  of  the  earth,  for  ever. 
And  by  that  oath  was  the  sea  made,  and  underneath  it  He  spread  the  sand, 


438  THE   LIFE   OF   CHIIIST. 

to  restrain  it  in  the  time  of  its  rage,  and  it  dare  not  overstep  this  bound 
from  the  creation  of  the  world  to  eternity.  And  through  that  oath  tho 
abysses  are  confirmed,  and  stand,  and  move  not  from  their  i:)Lace,  from 
eternity  to  eternity.  And  through  that  oath  the  sun  and  the  moon  fulfil 
their  course,  and  turn  not  aside  from  the  path  assigi\ed  them,  for  ever  and 
ever.  And  through  that  oath  the  stars  fulfil  their  course,  and  He  calls 
their  names,  and  they  answer,  from  eternity  to  eternity.  And  even  so  the 
spirits  of  the  waters,  of  the  winds,  of  all  airs,  and  their  ways,  according 
to  all  the  combinations  of  the  sj^irits.  And  by  that  oath  are  the  treasuries 
of  the  voice  of  the  thunder  and  of  the  brightness  of  the  lightning  main- 
tained, and  the  treasui-ies  of  the  rain,  and  of  the  hoar  frost,  and  of  the 
clouds,  and  of  the  rain,  and  of  the  dew.  And  over  them  all  this  oath  is 
mighty." 

Possessing  spells  so  mighty  as  they  believed  the  secret  names  of  the 
higher  jDowers  thus  to  be,  the  Eabbis  had  created  a  vast  science  of  magic, 
as  fantastic  as  that  of  mediaeval  superstition,  to  bring  these  awful  powers 
to  bear  on  the  mysteries  of  the  future,  and  the  diseases  and  troubles  of  tho 
present.  Combinations  of  numbers  of  lines,  or  of  letters  based  on  thcni) 
were  believed  to  i:)ut  these  powers  at  the  service  of  the  seer,  or  the  exorcist- 
Eesistless  talismans,  protecting  amulets,  frightful  curses,  by  which  miracles 
could  be  wrought,  the  sick  healed,  and  demons  put  to  flight,  were  thus 
formed.  Armed  with  a  mystic  text  from  the  opening  -of  Genesis,  or  the 
visions  of  Ezekiel,  or  the  secret  name  of  God,  or  of  some  of  the  angels,  or 
with  secret  mysterious  unions  of  letters,  the  Eabbis  who  dealt  in  the  dark 
arts  had  the  power  to  draw  the  moon  from  heaven,  or  to  open  the  abysses 
of  the  earth  !  The  uninitiated  saw  only  unmeaning  signs  in  their  most 
awful  formula),  but  he  who  could  reckon  their  mystic  value  aright  was 
master  of  angelic  or  even  Divine  attributes. 

The  appearance  of  Jesus  as  a  miraclc-AVorker  so  different  from  them- 
selves, must  have  excited  the  Rabbinical  schools  greatly.  They  made  no 
little  gain  from  their  exorcisms,  and  now  they  were  in  danger  of  being 
wholly  discredited.  At  a  loss  what  to  do,  they  determined  to  slander  what 
they  could  not  deny,  and  attribute  the  miracles  of  Jesus  to  a  league  with 
the  devil.  They  had  indeed,  for  some  time  back  been  whispering  this 
insinuation  about,  to  poison  the  minds  of  the  people  against  Him,  as  an 
emissary  of  Satan,  and  thus,  necessarily,  a  disguised  enemy  of  Israel,  and 
of  man.  It  would  raise  superstitious  terror,  if  they  could  brand  Him  as  a 
mere  instrument  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness. 

The  cure  of  a  man,  blind,  dumb,  and  possessed,  was  so  astounding,  that 
the  Eabbis  ventured  to  spread  their  malignant  slanders  more  widely  than 
heretofore.  Jesus  had  retired  to  Peter's  house,  wearied  and  faint,  after 
the  miracle,  but  the  multitude  were  so  greatly  excited  that  they  crowded 
into  the  room,  till  He  could  not  even  eat,  and  among  them  the  Jerusalem 
scribes,  in  their  bitterness  against  Him,  took  care  to  find  a  place.  He  read 
their  faces,  and  knew  their  words.  "  This  fellow,  uuauthorized  and  un- 
educated as  He  is,  casts  out  devils  through  Beelzebub  their  prince."  They 
believed  that  the  world  of  evil  spirits,  like  that  of  the  angels,  formed  a 
great  army,  in  various  divisions,  each  with  its  head  and  subordinates,  its 


THE   BDESTING   OF   THE    STOEM.  439 

rank  and  file;  the  whole  undei'  the  command  of  Satan.  Beelzebub — the 
"  filth  god," — was  the  name  given  by  Jewish  wit  and  contempt  to  Beelze- 
bul,— "  the  lord  of  the  (royal)  habitation  " — a  god  of  the  Phcnicians.  To 
him  was  assigned  the  control  of  that  division  which  inflicted  disease  of  all 
kinds  on  man,  and  Jesus,  they  hinted,  was  playing  a  part  under  him,  in 
pretending  to  drive  out  devils  from  the  sick,  that  He  might  win  the  people 
to  listen  to  His  pestiferous  teaching.  They  would  not  admit  that  His 
power  was  Divine,  and  the  ideas  of  the  times  necessarily  assumed  that  it 
must  be  the  opposite.  It  was  of  no  avail  that  light  streamed  in  on  them ; 
for  bigotry,  like  the  pupil  of  the  eye,  contracts  in  proportion  to  the  out- 
ward brightness.  He  was,  with  them,  an  emissary  and  champion  of  the 
kingdom  of  the  devil,  and  an  enemy  of  God. 

They  even  went  further.  Not  only  was  He  in  league  with  the  devil ; 
He  Himself  was  possessed  with  an  unclean  spirit,  and  the  demon  in  Him 
had  turned  His  brain  :  "  He  had  a  devil,  and  was  mad."  They  had  spread 
this  far  and  wide,  and  yet  ventured  now  into  His  presence. 

Jesus  at  once  challenged  them  for  their  slanders,  and  brought  them,  in 
the  presence  of  the  multitude,  to  an  account.  "  His  whole  life  was  before 
the  world.  The  aim  and  spirit  of  it  were  transparent.  Wa,3  it  not  ex- 
pressly to  fight  against  the  evil  and  confused  spirit  of  the  day ;  to  over- 
throw all  wickedness  and  all  evil ;  to  restore  moral  and  spiritual  soundness 
in  the  people  ;  did  iHe  not  strive  after  all  this,  with  the  fulness  of  His 
power  ?  Who  could  deny  that  He  only  sought  good,  and  spent  all  His 
energy  to  advance  it  ?  And  could  He  league  Himself  with  the  prince  of 
darkness  to  do  good  ?  What  a  ridiculous,  sclf-contradictoiy  charge  !  To 
think  of  Him  overcoming  evil  by  evil,  fighting  against  the  kingdom  of 
darkness,  with  the  weapons  of  darkness,  was  almost  too  foolish  to  repeat ! 
No  kingdom  is  willingly  in  conflict  with  itself,  for  if  there  be  division  in 
it,  already  it  is  in  process  of  dissolution,  since  nothing  more  is  needed  to 
bring  it  quickly  to  ruin."  Thei'e  was  no  answering  such  an  argument. 
But  Jesus  had  still  more  to  say. 

"  If  I,"  said  He,  "  cast  out  devils  by  the  power  of  Beelzebub,  by  whom 
do  your  disciples  cast  them  out  ?  You  do  not  attribute  their  works  to  the 
I^rince  of  devils,  why  speak  of  mine  as  from  him  ?  But  if  I  do  these 
things  by  the  power  of  God,  I  prove  mj^self  to  be  sent  from  Him,  and  to 
be  His  Messiah,  and  where  the  Messiah  is,  there  is  His  kingdom.  Do  you 
still  hesitate  to  draw  this  conclusion  ?  Ask  yourselves,  then,  how  I  can 
invade  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  and  take  from  his  servants,  instruments, 
and  victims — the  sick,  and  the  possessed — without  having  first  overcome 
himself  ?  The  strong  man's  joalace  can  only  be  spoiled  when  he,  himself, 
is  first  bound.  It  is  no  light  matter  to  put  yourselves  in  the  position  you 
take  towards  me.  He  who  is  not  with  me,  is,  as  may  be  seen  in  your  case^ 
my  enemy.  No  neutrality  between  the  Messiah  and  the  devil  is  possible. 
If  you  do  not  help,  with  me,  to  gather  in  the  harvest,  you  scatter  it,  and 
hinder  its  being  gathered !  " 

The  arguments  of  Jesus  were  so  irresistible  that  the  Kabbis,  taken  in 
the  snares  they  had  set  for  Him,  could  say  nothing,  and  now,  while  they 
were  silenced  before  the  people  they  had  striven  to  pervert,  He  advanced 


440  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

from  defence  to  attack.  They  claimed  to  be  the  righteous  of  the  land,  T)Ut 
had  no  idea  of  what  true  righteousness  meant.  Jesus  had  come  to  offer 
forgiveness  to  sinners,  not  to  judge  them.  He  desired  rather  to  deliver 
them  from  their  guilt.  But  He  saw  that  His  enemies,  the  theologians  and 
clergy  of  the  day,  and  the  privileged  classes  generally,  had  determined 
to  reject  Him,  whatever  proofs  of  His  Divine  mission  He  might  advance. 
Their  prejudices  and  self-interest  had  blinded  them  till  their  religious 
faculty  was  destroyed.  They  had  deliberately  refused  to  be  convinced,  and 
conscience  grows  dead  if  its  convictions  are  slighted.  The  heart  becomes 
incapable  of  seeing  the  truth  against  which  it  has  closed  itself.  They 
dared  to  denounce  as  a  spirit  of  evil  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  who  inspired 
the  New  Kingdom,  and  in  whose  fulness  Jesus  wrestled  against  selfishness 
and  ambition,  soothed  the  woes  of  the  people,  opened  a  pure  and  heavenly 
future,  and  sought  to  win  men  to  eternal  life.  Light  was  to  them  dark- 
ness, and  darkness  light.  They  even  sought  to  quench  the  light  in  its 
source  by  plotting  against  His  life.  This  he  told  them,  was  blasphemy 
against  the  Divine  Spirit.  They  had  wilfully  rejected  the  clear  revelation 
of  His  presence  and  power,  and  had  shown  deliberate  and  conscious  enmity 
against  Him.  "  This  awful  sin,"  said  He,  "  cannot  be  forgiven,  because 
when  it  occurs,  the  religious  faculty  has  been  voluntarily  destroyed,  and 
wilful,  declared  opposition  to  heavenly  truth  has  possessed  the  soul  as 
with  a  devil."  "  To  speak  against  me  as  a  man,"  He  continued,  "  and  not 
recognise  me  as  the  Messiah,  is  not  a  hopeless  sin,  for  better  knowledge,  a 
change  of  heart  and  faith,  may  come,  and  I  may  be  acknowledged.  But  it 
is  different  when  the  truth  itself  is  blasphemed ;  when  the  Holy  Spirit  by 
whom  alone  the  heart  can  be  changed,  is  contemned  as  evil.  The  soul 
has  then  shut  out  the  light,  and  has  chosen  darkness  as  its  portion. 

"  I  warn  you  to  beware  of  speaking  thus  any  longer.  Either  decide  tliat 
the  tree  is  good  and  its  fruit  consequently  good,  or  that  it  is  bad  and  its 
fruit  bad,  but  do  not  act  so  foolishly  as  you  have  done  in  your  judgment 
on  me,  by  calling  the  tree  bad — that  is,  calling  me  a  tool  of  the  devil,  and 
yet  ascribing  good  fruit  to  me — such,  I  mean,  as  the  casting  out  devils. 
Do  not  think  what  you  say  is  mere  words,  for  words  rise  from  the  heart,  as 
if  from  the  root  of  the  man  :  as  the  tree  and  the  stem,  such  is  the  fruit. 
See  that  you  do  your  duty  by  yourselves,  that  the  tree  of  your  own 
spiritual  being  be  good  and  bear  good  fruit.  The  tree  is  known  by  its 
fruits.  It  is  no  wonder  you  blaspheme  as  you  have  done  ;  a  generation  of 
vipers,  your  hearts  are  evil,  and  you  are  morally  incaj)able  of  acknowledg- 
ing the  truth,  for  the  lips  speak  as  the  heart  feels.  Witness  to  the  truth 
flows  from  the  lips  of  the  good ;  such  language  as  yours,  from  the  lips  of 
the  evil.  But,  beware ;  for  I  tell  you  that,  as  such  words  are  the  utter- 
ance of  the  heart,  and  show  how  you  are  affected  towards  God  and  His 
Spirit,  you  Avill  have  to  give  account  of  them  wdien  I  come  as  the  Messiah, 
to  judgment.  Your  words  respecting  me  and  my  Kingdom  will  then 
justify  or  condemn  you." 

At  this  point,  as  was  common  in  the  most  solemn  Jewish  assemblies,  He 
was  interrupted  by  some  of  the  Rabbis  present.  They  demanded,  in 
strange  contradiction  to  the  theory  that  He  was  a  secret  agent  of  Beel« 


THE    BURSTING   OF    THE    STORM.  441 

zebub,  some  a.siouudiug  minicle,  as  a  sign  i'roiu  heaven  in  support  of  his 
claims  as  the  Messiah :  as  hereafter  they  did,  in  every  part  of  the  world, 
from  the  Apostles.  The  masses,  and  even  their  leaders,  expected  the 
repetition  of  all  the  great  deeds  of  Moses  and  Joshua,  to  inaugurate  the 
coming  of  the  Messiah,  and  other  claimants  did  not  venture  to  resist 
the  demand.  Under  the  Procurator  Fadus,  a  certain  Thendas  drew  out 
the  people  to  the  Jordan  to  see  Israel  walk  through,  once  more,  on  dry 
ground.  Under  Felix,  a  prophet  promised  to  throw  down  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  as  Joshiia  did  those  of  Jericho,  and  gathered  thirty  thousand 
men  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  see  them  fall.  Others  invited  the  nation 
to  follow  them  into  the  wilderness,  where  they  promised  to  show  them 
stupendous  signs  of  the  kingdom  of  God  having  come.  It  might  have 
seemed  a  temptation  to  One  possessing  supernatural  jiower,  to  silence  all 
cavil  by  a  miracle  of  irresistible  grandeur.  But  outward  acknowledg- 
ment of  His  claims  was  of  no  worth  in  a  kingdom  like  that  of  Christ, 
resting  on  love,  and  homage  to  holiness.  He  cared  nothing  for  popularity 
or  fame,  and  lived  in  unbroken  self-restraint,  using  His  mighty  power  only 
to  further  spiritual  ends.  It  was  easy,  therefore,  to  repel  the  seduction, 
which  He  had  already  overcome  in  His  first  great  wilderness  struggle. 
"  An  evil  and  adulterous  generation,"  said  He — "  unfaithful  to  God,  who 
chose  Israel  for  His  bride — asks  for  a  sign,  grand  beyond  all  I  have  given, 
that  I  am  the  Messiah."  Then,  predicting  His  violent  death.  He  went  on 
• — "  There  shall  be  no  sign  given  it,  but  that  of  the  prophet  Jonah.  For, 
as  he  was  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the  belly  of  the  fish,  so  shall  the 
Son  of  man  be  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the  kingdom  of  the  dead." 
The  spiritual  mii-acle  of  His  life  and  words  were  the  only  signs  He  could 
vouchsafe  w^hile  He  lived,  for  at  no  time  did  He  lay  stress  on  miracles 
alone  as  a  means  of  gaining  disciples,  but  subordinated  them  to  His  pro- 
clamation of  the  Truth.  His  preaching  would  itself  be  a  sign  like  that  of 
the  preaching  of  Jonah  to  the  Ninevites.  "  The  men  of  that  city,"  said 
He,  "  would  rise  in  the  judgment  day,  to  witness  against  this  generation, 
for  they  repented  at  the  preaching  of  Jonah,  and  Ho  was  greater  than  that 
prophet.  The  Queen  of  the  South,  who  came  from  Sheba  to  hear  the 
wisdom  of  Solomon,  would  then  condemn  them ;  for  she  came  from  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  and  great  as  they  thought  the  glory  of  Solo- 
mon, they  had  One  greater  than  he  before  them,  in  Himself.  Vast  mul- 
titudes had  gone  out  to  hear  John,  and  had  professed  repentance ;  vast 
multitudes  had  followed  Himself,  and,  yet,  the  result  had  been  only  tem- 
porary and  superficial.  It  would  prove  with  this  generation  as  with  a  man 
from  whom  an  unclean  spirit  has  for  a  time  gone  out.  Meeting  no  suitable 
rest  elsewhere,  it  returns,  and  finding  its  former  dwelling  in  the  man's 
soul  ready  for  it,  allies  itself  with  seven  demons  still  worse  than  itself, 
and  with  their  help  enters  the  man  once  more.  The  Reformation  under 
John,  and  under  Himself,  was  Ijut  for  a  time;  the  nation  would  fall  back 
again  to  its  old  sinful  ways,  and  become  ivorse  than  ever."  He  foresaw 
His  rejection,  and  thus  foretold  it. 

He  had  silenced  the  Rabbis,  and  no  doubt  by  doing  so  had  intensified 
their  hatred;  but  a  new  trial  awaited  Him.     The  insinuation  that  His 


442  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

brain  was  affected  had  reached  His  family,  Avho  still  lived  at  ITazareth. 
The  effects  of  the  exhausting  toil  and  constant  excitement  of  these  months, 
had,  apparently,  led  even  His  friends  to  fear  that  He  would  give  way 
under  such  tension,  and  now  the  hints  of  the  Rabbis  that  He  was  possessed, 
and  spoke  and  acted  as  He  did  under  demoniacal  influence,  raised  the  fear 
that  judicial  action  would  be  begun,  against  Him,  on  the  part  of  the  Jerusa- 
lem authorities.  Yeiy  possibly  the  simple  household  at  Nazareth,  who,  like 
other  Jews,  must  have  looked  on  the  Raljbis  with  superstitious  reverence, 
and  have  shrunk  from  questioning  anything  they  said,  had  innocently 
accepted  the  insinuation  that  He  was  really  out  of  His  mind,  as  a  result 
of  being  j^ossessed.  Prejudiced  in  favour  of  the  common  idea  of  the 
Messiah  as  a  national  hero,  at  the  head  of  the  Jewish  armies,  they  had  not 
risen  to  any  higher  conception,  and  felt  impelled  by  every  motive  to  inter- 
fere, and,  if  possible,  put  a  stop  to  what  seemed  to  them  an  unaccountable 
course  of  action  on  His  part.  It  was  only  about  seven  hours'  distance 
from  Nazareth  to  Capernaum,  over  the  hills  ;  they  would  go  and  see  for 
themselves  ;  and  so  Mary  and  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  Jesus— the  whole 
household,  for  Joseph  was  dead — set  out  for  Peter's  house. 

They  arrived  while  the  crowd,  excited  by  the  miracle  they  had  just  seen, 
and  half  believing  that  Jesus  must  be  the  expected  Messiah,  still  filled  the 
house  and  thronged  the  courtyard,  so  that  the  Rabbis,  overawed,  could 
do  nothing  against  Him.  Anxious  to  withdraw  Him  from  His  dangerous 
course,  and  unable  as  yet  to  understand  Him,  they  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, perhaps  at  the  instigation  of  the  Rabbis,  that  the  best  plan  would 
be  to  lay  hold  on  Him,  and  take  Him  home  by  force,  as  one  beside  Himself. 
n  they  could  keep  Him  for  a  time  at  Nazareth,  under  restraint,  if  neces- 
sary, the  quiet,  they  hoped,  would  calm  His  mind  and  free  Him  from  His 
hallucinations.  It  is  wonderful  that  they  could  argue  with  themselves  in 
such  a  way;  especially  that  Mary  could  have  fancied  it  madness  that  He 
acted  as  He  did,  and  called  Himself  the  Messiah ;  but  vision,  in  spiritual 
things  as  in  nature,  depends,  not  on  the  flood  of  light  around  us,  but  on 
the  eye  on  which  it  falls. 

On  coming  near,  however,  they  found  they  could  not  make  their  way 
through  the  press,  and  had  to  request  those  near  to  let  Him  know  their 
presence,  and  that  they  wished  to  speak  with  Him.  At  any  moment,  when 
busy  with  the  work  of  the  Kingdom,  all  lower  relations,  bonds,  and  cares 
of  His  eaidier  life  ceased  to  engage  Him,  but  much  more  was  it  so  at 
a  time  like  this,  when  engrossed  with  its  supreme  interests,  and  with 
the  victory  over  its  enemies  which  He  had  hardly  as  yet  completed. 
The  most  sacred  of  earthly  ties  lost  its  greatness  before  the  grandeur 
of  spiritual  kinship  in  the  new  deathless  communion  He  was  founding. 
"  Who  is  my  mother  ?  "  asked  He,  "  and  who  are  my  brethren  ?  "  Then 
stretching  His  hands  towards  those  around  Him,  "  Behold,"  said  He,  "  my 
mother  and  my  brethren  !  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father 
in  Heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother."  It  was  the 
same  answer,  in  effect,  as  He  had,  perhaps  before  this,  given  when  a 
woman  in  the  crowd,  unable  to  restrain  herself,  had  expressed  aloud,  her 
sense  of  the  surpassing  honour  of  her  who  had  borne  and  nursed  Him. 


THE   BUBSTING   OF   THE    STOEM.  443 

"  Yea,"  replied  He,  "  rather,  blessed  are  they  that  hear  the  Word  of  God 
and  keep  it." 

It  was  from  no  want  of  tenderness  Jesus  thus  spoke.  A  holy  duty  to 
Himself,  His  honour,  and  His  calling,  demanded  His  acting  as  He  did. 
It  was  imperative  that  He  should  keep  Himself  from  the  hands  even  of 
His  nearest  friends,  to  prevent  their  unconsciously  carrying  out  the  plans 
of  His  enemies  by  violently  restraining  Him.  He  had,  moreover,  founded 
a  new  family  of  which  He  was  the  Spiritual  Head,  and  this,  henceforth, 
as  it  spread  among  men,  was  to  be  His  supreme  earthly  relationship.  The 
ready  faith  of  the  Samaritans,  and  the  surpassing  example  of  the  heathen 
centurion,  had  foreshadowed  the  extension  of  the  New  Kingdom,  beyond 
Israel,  to  all  nations.  To  do  the  will  of  mere  men,  whether  priests  or 
Rabbis,  was  no  longer  the  condition  of  heavenly  favour.  Henceforth,  over 
the  earth,  to  do  the  will  of  God  was  the  one  condition  required  to  open  the 
gates  of  the  way  of  life. 

Foiled  in  their  attempt  to  brand  Jesus  publicly  as  in  league  with  the 
devil,  the  Pharisees  resolved  to  try  the  subtler  plan  of  pretending  friend- 
liness, and  inviting  Him  to  pai'take  of  their  hospitality,  that  they  might 
watch  what  He  said,  and,  if  possible,  provoke  Him  to  commit  Himself  in 
some  way  that  would  bring  Him  within  the  reach  of  the  law.  It  was  yet 
early,  and  one  of  them  asked  Him,  with  this  treacherous  object,  to  join 
the  light  morning  meal,  then  lately  introduced  into  Palestine  by  the 
Romans.  He  accepted  the  invitation,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  spirit 
in  which  it  had  been  given.  It  had  been  expected,  perhaps,  that  the 
honour  of  entertainment  in  a  circle  of  Rabbis  would  awe  a  layman  of 
humble  standing  like  Jesus,  but  He  took  care  to  show  His  true  bearing 
towards  them  from  the  moment  He  reclined  at  table.  "Washing  the  hands 
before  eating  was  in  all  cases  a  vital  requirement  of  Pharisaic  duty.  A 
Rabbi  would  rather  have  suffered  death  than  eat  before  he  had  done  so. 
"  It  is  better,"  said  Rabbi  Akiba,  "  in  a  time  of  persecution,  to  die  of 
thirst  than  to  break  the  commandment,  and  thus  die  eternally,"  and  pro- 
ceeded, before  touching  food,  to  wash  his  hands,  with  the  allowance  of 
drinking  water  brought  him  by  his  jailer.  But  observance  of  Pharisaic 
rules  required  much  more.  Christ  had  jusb  come  from  among  a  crowd, 
and  had,  besides,  cast  out  a  devil,  and  thus  doubly  defiled,  ought  to  have 
purified  himself  by  a  bath  before  coming  to  table  with  those  who  were 
Levitically  clean.  A  Pharisee  always  bathed  himself  before  eating,  on 
coming  from  the  market-place,  to  wash  away  the  defilement  of  contact 
with  the  unclean  multitude,  and  it  was  naturally  expected  that  Jesus 
would  have  been  equally  scrupiilous.  He  had  committed  Himself,  how- 
ever, to  uncompromising  opposition  to  a  system  which  substituted  forms 
for  true  spiritual  religion,  and  took  His  place  on  the  couch  without  any 
ceremonial  purification.  The  host  and  his  guests  were  astonished,  and 
betrayed,  at  least  in  their  looks,  their  real  feelings  towards  Him ;  bitter 
enough  before,  but  now  fiercer  than  ever,  at  this  defiant  affront  to  their 
cherished  usages. 

Roused  by  their  uncourteous  hostility,  He  instantly  took  His  position  of 
calm  independence  and  superiority,  for  He  feared  no  human  face,  nor  any 


444  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

combination  of  human  violence.  Knowing  perfectly  that  He  was  alone 
against  the  world,  He  felt  that  the  truth  required  Him  to  witness  for  it, 
come  what  might  to  Himself. 

"I  see,"  said  He,  "what  you  are  thinking.  You  Pharisees  clean  the 
outside  of  the  cup  and  the  platter,  but  you  fill  both,  witliin,  with  the  gains 
of  hypocritical  robbery  and  wickedness  ;  you  cleanse  the  outside  of  a  cup, 
and  think  nothing  of  your  own  souls  being  full  of  all  evil.  Fools'!  did  not 
He  who  made  the  outside  of  a  cup  make  the  inside  as  well  ?  As  He  made 
all  outward  and  visible  things,  has  He  not  also  made  all  inward  and 
spiritual  P  How  absurd  to  take  so  much  care  of  the  one  and  to  neglect 
the  other  !  Let  me  tell  you  how  you  may  attain  true  purification.  Give 
with  willing,  loving  hearts,  what  you  have  in  your  cups  and  platters,  as  alms, 
and  this  will  make  all  your  ceremonial  washings  of  the  outside  superfluous, 
and  cleanse  both  the  vessels  and  your  hearts.  The  Rabbis  have  told  you 
that  '  charity  is  worth  all  other  virtues  together,'  but  your  covetousness  is 
a  proverb,  for  you  devour  widows'  houses,  and  have  invented  excuses  for 
a  son  robbing  even  his  father  for  your  good.  But  woe  to  you,  Pharisees  ! 
for  it  is  vain  to  expect  this  of  you,  who  know  nothing  of  true  love.  You 
lay  stress  on  external  trifles,  and  neglect  the  principles  and  duties  of  the 
inner  life  ;  you  tithe  petty  garden  herbs,  like  mint  and  rue,  and  all  kinds 
besides,  and  are  indifferent  to  right  and  wrong,  and  to  the  love  of  God. 
If  you  wish  to  tithe  the  garden  herbs  it  is  well  to  do  so,  but  you  should  be 
as  zealous  for  what  is  much  more  important.  Your  vanity  is  as  great  as 
your  grasping  hypocrisy !  Woe  to  you,  Pharisees !  for  ye  love  the  chief 
seats  in  the  synagogues,  and  to  be  flattered  by  men  rising  up  as  you  pass 
in  the  crowded  market-place,  and  greeting  you  with  reverent  salutations 
of  Eabbi,  Rabbi,  your  reverence,  your  reverence.  Woe  to  you !  you  are 
like  graves  sunk  in  the  earth,  over  which  men  walk,  thinking  the  ground 
clean,  and  are  defiled  when  they  least  suspect  it.  Men  think  themselves 
with  saints  if  in  your  company,  but  to  be  near  you  is  to  be  near 
pollution  ! " 

A  Rabbi  among  the  guests  here  interrupted  Him.  "  Teacher,"  said  he, 
"you  are  condemning  not  only  the  common  lay  Pharisees,  but  us,  the 
Rabbis."  The  interruption  only  turned  Jesus  against  the  "  lawyers " 
specially.  "  Woe  to  you,  lawyers,  also  !  "  said  He,  "  for  ye  load  men  with 
burdens  grievous  to  be  borne,  while  ye,  yourselves,  touch  not  these 
burdens  with  one  of  your  fingers  to  help  the  shoulders  to  bear  them.  ■  Ye 
sit  in  your  chambers  and  schools,  and  create  legal  rules,  endless,  harassing? 
intolerable,  for  the  people,  but  not  afi'ecting  yourselves — shut  out  as  you  are 
from  busy  life.  Woe  to  you !  for  ye  build  the  tombs  of  the  prophets,  but 
your  fathers,  in  whose  acts  ye  glory,  killed  them.  Shame  for  their  having 
done  so  might  make  you  wish  those  sacred  tombs  forgotten ;  but  you  have 
no  shame,  and  rebuild  these  tombs  to  win  favour  with  the  people,  while  in 
your  hearts  you  are  ready  to  repeat  to  the  prophets  of  to-day  the  deeds  of 
your  fathers  towards  those  of  old  !  Your  pretended  reverence  for  these 
martyrs,  shown  in  restoring  their  sepulchres,  while  you  are  ready  to  repeat 
the  wickedness  of  their  murderers,  makes  these  tombs  a  witness  against 
you.     The  Holy  Spirit  had  this  in  view,  when  He  said  by  me,  some  time 


THE    BURSTING    OF   THE    STORM.  445 

since,  '  I  will  send  them  prophets  and  apostles,  and  some  of  them  they  will 
persecute  and  kill,  that  the  blood  of  all  the  prophets,  shed  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  may  be  required  of  this  generation — from  the 
blood  of  Abel  to  that  of  Zachariah,  who  perished  between  the  altar  and 
the  Temple.'  Yes,  I  say  unto  you,  it  will  be  required  of  this  generation. 
Under  the  guidance  of  you  lawyers  it  was  that  the  people  treated  them 
as  they  did !  Woe  to  j-ou  !  you  have  taken  away  from  the  nation  the  key 
to  the  temple  of  heavenly  knowledge,  and  have  made  them  incapable  of 
recognising  the  truth,  by  your  teaching.  You  yourselves  have  not  entered 
and  you  have  hindered  those  from  entering  who  were  on  the  point  of 
doing  so  ! " 

The  die  was  finally  cast.  Henceforth  Jesus  stood  consciously  alone,  the 
rejected  of  the  leaders  of  His  nation.  There  was  before  Him  only  a  weary 
path  of  persecution,  and,  at  its  end,  the  Cross.  An  incident  recorded  by 
St.  Luke,  seems  to  belong  to  this  period.  The  multitudes  thronging  to 
hear  the  new  teaching  v,^ere  daily  greater,  in  sj^ite  of  the  hostility  of  the 
Rabbis  ;  for  their  calumnies  and  insinuations  had  not  yet  abated  the 
general  excitement.  "  An  innumerable  multitude  "  waited  for  the  re- 
appearance of  Jesus,  and  hung  on  His  lips  to  catch  every  word.  He  might 
be  attacked  and  slandered  in  the  house  of  the  Pharisee,  but  as  yet,  the 
crowd  looked  on  Him  with  astonishment  and  respect.  Opinions  differed 
only  as  to  the  scope  of  His  action :  that  He  was  a  great  Rabin,  was  felt 
by  all. 

It  was  the  custom  to  refer  questions  of  all  kinds  to  the  Rabbis  for  their 
counsel  and  decision,  which  carried  great  weight,  though  it  might  be 
informal  and  extra-judicial.  Their  words  were  virtually  law,  for  to  dis- 
pute or  oppose  them  was  well-nigh  criminal.  To  get  the  support  of  one  so 
great  as  Jesus,  therefore,  in  any  matter,  would,  as  it  seemed,  decide  a 
point  at  once  in  favour  of  any  one  He  supported. 

One  of  the  crowd,  reasoning  thus,  chose  an  opportunity  to  solicit  His 
weighty  interference  in  a  question  of  inheritance,  in  which  there  was  a 
strife  with  a  brother.  "  Teacher,"  said  he,  "  speak  to  my  brother,  that  he 
divide  the  inheritance  with  me."  But  he  had  utterly  misconceived  Christ's 
spirit  and  sphere.  In  the  briefest  and  most  direct  words,  the  idea  that  He 
had  anything  to  do  with  "judging"  or  "  dividing"  in  worldly  affairs  was 
repudiated.     It  was  not  His  province. 

The  question,  however,  gave  an  occasion  for  solemn  warning  against  the 
unworthy  greed  and  selfishness  which  lie  at  the  bottom  of  all  such  strife, 
on  one  side  or  the  other.  Addressing  the  crowd,  wdio  had  hoard  the 
request,  He  gave  them,  in  the  following  parable,  a  caution  against  all 
forms  of  covetousness,  or  excessive  desire  of  worldly  possessions. 

"  Watch,"  said  He,  "  and  keep  yourselves  from  all  covetousness.  For 
though  a  man  may  abound  in  riches,  his  life  does  not  depend  on  his 
wealth,  but  on  the  will  of  God,  who  can  lengthen  or  shorten  his  existence, 
and  make  it  happy  or  sad,  at  His  pleasure.  Let  me  show  you  what  I 
mean. 

"  The  ground  of  a  certain  rich  man  brought  forth  plentifully.  And  he 
reasoned  within  himself,  saying,  '  What  shall  I  do,  because  I  have  no  room 


446  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

to  stow  awiiy  my  crops  ?  '  And  he  said,  '  This  will  I  do.  I  Vvdll  pull  down 
my  barns  and  build  greater,  and  I  will  gather  together  into  them  all  my 
crops  and  my  property,  and  will  say  to  my  soul,  Soul,  thou  hast  much 
l^roperty  laid  iip  for  many  years  ;  take  thine  case,  eat,  drink,  and  bo 
merry.' 

"  But  God  said  unto  him,  '  Fool,  this  night  thy  soul  is  required  of  thee, 
and  whose  will  those  things  be  which  thou  hast  prepared  ?  ' 

"So,"  added  Jesus,  "is  he  who  heaps  up  treasures  for  himself,  and  is 
not  rich  towards  God.  Death,  coming  unexpectedly,  even  v/hen  latest, 
strips  him  of  all,  if  he  has  only  thought  of  himself  and  of  this  world.  The 
true  wisdom  is  to  use  what  we  have  so  as  to  hiy  up  treasures,  by  its  right 
employment,  in  heaven,  that  God  may  give  us  these,  after  death,  in  the 
kingdom  of  the  Messiah." 


<      Ak' 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

AFTER   THE    STOrxM. 

THE  meal  in  the  house  of  the  Pharisee  was  a  momentous  event  in  the 
life  of  Jesus.  The  fierceness  of  His  enemies  had  broken  out  into  open 
rage,  so  that,  as  He  left,  He  was  followed  by  the  infuriated  Eabbis,  ges- 
ticulating, as  they  pressed  round  Him,  and  provoking  Him  to  commit 
Himself  by  words  of  which  they  might  lay  hold.  A  great  crowd  had 
meanwhile  gathered,  partly  on  His  side,  partly  turned  against  Him  by  the 
arts  of  His  accusers.     The  excitement  had  reached  its  highest. 

With  such  a  multitude  before  Him,  it  was  certain  that  He  would  not  let 
the  opportunity  pass  of  proclaiming  afresh  the  New  Kingdom  of  God.  It 
had  been  called  a  kingdom  of  the  devil,  and  it  was  meet  that  He  should 
turn  aside  the  calumny.  His  past  mode  of  teaching  did  not,  however, 
seem  suited  for  the  new  circumstances.  It  had  left  but  small  permanent 
results ;  and  a  new  and  simpler  style  of  instruction,  specially  adapted  to 
their  dulness  and  untrained  minds  and  hearts,  would  at  least  arrest  their 
attention  more  surely,  and  force  them  to  a  measure  of  reflection.  Pressing 
through  the  vast  throng,  to  the  shore  of  the  lake.  He  entered  a  fishing  boat, 
and,  sitting  down  at  its  prow,  the  highest  part  of  it,  began,  from  this  con- 
venient pulpit,  as  it  lightly  rocked  on  the  waters,  the  first  of  those  won- 
drous parables,  in  which  He  henceforth  so  frequently  embodied  His 
teachings. 

The  Parable  or  Mashal  was  a  mode  of  instruction  already  familiar  to 
Israel  since  the  days  of  the  Judges,  and  was  in  familiar  and  constant  use 
among  the  Rabbis.  Its  characteristic  is  the  presentation  of  moral  and 
religious  truth  in  a  more  vivid  form  than  is  possible  by  mere  precept  or 
abstract  statement,  use  being  made  for  this  end  of  some  incident  drawn 
from  life  or  nature,  by  which  the  lesson  sought  to  be  given  is  pictured  to 
the  eye,  and  thus  imprinted  on  the  memory,  and  made  more  emphatic. 
Analogies,  hitherto  unsusjjected,  between  familiar  natural  facts  and 
spiritual  phenomena  ;  lessons  of  duty  enforced  by  some  simple  imaginary 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  447 

narrative  or  incident ;  striking  parallels  and  comparisons,  wliicli  made  the 
homeliest  trifles  symbols  of  the  highest  truths,  abound  in  all  the  discourses 
of  Jesus,  but  are  still  more  frequent  from  this  time.  Notliing  was  hence- 
forth left  unused.  The  light,  the  darkness,  the  houses  around,  the  games 
of  childhood,  the  sightless  wayside  beggar,  the  foxes  of  the  hills,  the 
leathern  bottles  hung  up  from  every  rafter,  the  patched  or  new  garment, 
and  even  the  noisy  hen  amidst  her  chickens,  served,  in  turn,  to  illustrate 
some  lofty  truth.  The  sower  on  the  hill-side  at  hand,  the  gaudy  weeds 
among  the  corn,  the  common  mustard  plant,  the  leaven  in  the  woman's 
dough,  the  treasure  disclosed  by  the  passing  ploughshare,  the  pearl 
brought  by  the  travelling  merchant  from  distant  lauds  for  sale  at  Beth- 
saida  or  Tiberias — at  Philip's  court  or  that  of  Antipas, — the  draw-net  seen 
daily  on  the  lake,  the  pitiless  servant,  the  labourers  in  the  vineyards 
around — any  detail  of  every-day  life,  was  elevated,  as  occasion  demanded, 
to  be  the  vehicle  of  the  sublimest  lessons.  Others  have  uttered  parables  ; 
but  Jesus  so  far  transcends  them,  that  He  may  justly  be  called  the  creator 
of  this  mode  of  instruction. 

The  first  of  the  wondrous  series  was,  fitly,  that  of  the  Sower,  for  the 
planting  of  the  New  Kingdom  must  needs  be  the  first  stage  towards 
further  truths  respecting  it.  In  a  country  like  Galilee  no  illustration 
could  be  more  easily  intelligible,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  Jesus  often  uses 
it.  As  He  sat  in  the  Ijoat,  with  the  multitude  standing  on  the  shore,  each 
feature  of  the  parable  would  be  before  Him — the  sower  going  out  from  the 
neighbouring  town  or  village  to  sow  his  patch  on  the  unenclosed  hill-side, 
with  its  varied  soil,  here  warm  and  deep,  there  a  mere  skin  over  the  lime- 
stone rock,  invaded  at  some  spots  by  thorns,  then,  as  now,  so  plentiful  in 
Palestine,  and  crossed  by  the  bridle  path,  along  which  men  and  beasts 
were  passing  constantly.  The  seed  was  good,  and  the  sower  faithfully  did 
his  work,  but  it  depended  on  the  soil  itself  what  would  be  the  result,  for 
the  rain,  and  the  light,  and  the  heat  came  equally  on  all.  Part  fell  on  the 
trodden  path — which,  itself,  though  now  beaten  hard,  was  once  as  soft  and 
yielding  as  any  part  of  the  field — and  was  crushed  under  foot,  or  picked 
up  by  the  birds  hovering  near.  Some  fell  on  spots  in  which  the  spring- 
ing thistles  had  already  taken  root,  and  were  about  to  shoot  up  in  rank 
visour :  some  on  the  shallow  skin  of  earth  over  the  rock,  where  the  hot 
sun  hastened  the  growth,  while  the  hard  rock  hindered  the  root  from 
striking  down ;  and  only  a  part  fell  on  good  soil,  and  yielded  a  return  for 
the  sower's  toil. 

This  parable,  apparently  so  self-illustrative,  troubled,  alike,  the  minds 
of  the  Twelve,  and  of  the  wider  circle  of  hearers  who  had  any  interest  in 
Christ's  words.  The  mode  of  teaching  was  new  to  them  from  Him,  and 
the  conceptions  embodied  in  what  they  had  heard  were  directly  opposite 
to  all  they  had  been  accustomed,  as  Jews,  to  associate  with  the  Messianic 
kingdom.  The  careless  multitude,  drawn  together  only  by  curiosity,  had 
scattered  when  Jesus,  having  finished  His  address,  had  returned  to  Peter's 
house.  Thither,  however,  a  number  of  graver  spirits  followed,  with  the 
Twelve,  to  seek  the  explanation  they  felt  assured  would  be  vouchsafed.  It 
was,  indeed,  precisely  what  Jesus  desired,  for  it  afforded  an  opportunity 


448  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

for  the  fuller  instruction  of  all  whose  state  of  heart  fitted  them  to  receive 
it,  and  it  drew  them  into  closer  personal  intercourse  Avith  Himself.  He 
received  them  with  frank  delight.  "  Unto  you,  who  thus  show  your  in- 
terest in  tlie  mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  God,"  said  He,  "  it  is  given  to 
know  them,  but  to  the  indifferent  outside  multitude,  they  are  designedly 
left  veiled  in  jjarable."  To  understand  spiritual  truth,  the  heart  must  be 
in  sympathy  with  it ;  otherwise,  to  try  to  explain  it,  would  be  as  idle  as  to 
speak  of  colours  to  the  blind,  or  of  music  to  the  deaf.  Where  the  religious 
faculty  was  dead  or  dormant,  religious  truth  was  necessarily  incompre- 
hensible and  undesircd.  "  He  came  to  be  a  Light  to  men,  and  to  reveal 
the  truth,  not  to  hide  it ;  but  men  mnst  have  willing  ears,  and  take  heed 
to  what  they  hear,  pondering  over  it  in  their  hearts.  To  listen  only  with 
the  outward  ear,  like  the  careless  multitude,  is  to  draw  down  the  punish- 
ment of  God.  In  natures  thus  wilfully  indifferent,  stolid  insensibility  only 
increases,  the  more  they  hear.  To  such,  the  very  word  of  life  becomes  a 
word  of  death.  Eejecting  me,  the  Light,  they  are  given  up  by  God  to  the 
darkness  they  have  chosen,  and  lose,  erelong,  even  the  superficial  interest 
in  higher  things  they  may  have  had. 

"  Ye,  on  the  other  hand,"  He  continued,  "  who  really  have  received  the 
truth  into  a  willing  heart,  have  thereby  proved  j^our  fitness  for  higher 
disclosures,  and  shall  have  them.  The  honest  interest  you  show  deter- 
mines the  measure  of  knowledge  you  are  able  to  receive,  and  it  will  be 
given  you.  He  who  has  opened  his  soul  to  me  will  receive  continually 
richer  insight  into  the  truth.  Alas  for  those  who  shut  their  eyes  and  stop 
their  ears  !  But  blessed  are  your  eyes,  into  which  you  have  let  the  truth 
enter,  and  blessed  are  j-our  ears,  into  which  you  have  let  it  sink.  Amen ! 
I  say  to  you,  many  prophets  and  righteous  men  longed  to  see  those  things 
which  ye  see,  and  did  not  see  them ;  and  to  hear  those  things  which  je 
hear,  and  did  not  hear  them." 

Such,  in  brief  explanatory  paraphrase,  was  the  welcome  to  those  really 
anxious  to  understand  the  parable,  which  Jesus  forthwith  expounded  to 
them ;  disclosing,  as  He  did  so,  conceptions  and  principles  which  required 
a  complete  revolution  in  their  rainds  to  understand  and  api^ropriate.  He 
announced  that  the  ancient  kingdom  of  God  was,  henceforth,  spiritualized, 
go  that  the  only  relation  of  man  to  it,  from  this  time,  was  a  moral  one ;  not, 
as  heretofore,  in  part  a  political.  So  entirely,  indeed,  was  this  the  case,  that 
He  did  not  even  speak  of  the  external  agencies  or  organization  by  which 
men  should  be  outwardly  received  as  citizens,  but  assumed  that  accejatance 
depended  on  the  man  himself :  on  his  will  and  his  sympathy  with  what  the 
New  Kingdom  offered.  "  The  Word  is  the  living  Seed  of  the  Gospel.  As 
the  embodiment  of  all  truth,  it  is  by  follovfing  it  that  the  Will  of  God  is 
realized  by  men,  and  the  one  grand  law  of  the  kingdom  thus  obeyed.  It 
is  given  to  men,  as  the  seed  to  the  ground,  and  they  can  hear  and  under- 
stand it  if  they  choose,  biit  all  depends  on  their  doing  so.  As  the  strewn 
seed  neither  sjirings  nor  bears  fruit  on  much  of  the  ground,  and  fails 
except  where  it  sinks  into  good  soil,  so  the  relations  of  men  to  the  Word 
of  God  are  very  various.  Few,  it  may  be,  receive  it  aright,  but  it  is  always 
the  fault   of  men  themselves  if   it   be   not   living  seed   in  their  hearts. 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  449 

Worldly  indifference  may  have  made  tlio  soil  impenetrable  as  the  trodden 
path,  or  have  left  only  a  skin  of  sentiment  over  hidden  callousness ;  or 
worldly  cares  or  pleasures  may  spring  uji  rankly,  and  choke  the  better 
growth;  in  all  cases  it  is  the  man,  not  the  seed  or  the  sower,  on  whom  the 
result  turns.  Before  all  things,  this  is  to  be  felt,  so  that  no  one  may 
imagine  that  entrance  into  the  New  Kingdom  depends  on  any  but  moral 
conditions.  Every  merely  outward  claim  to  citizenship  must  be  laid 
aside  ;  it  is  a  matter  strictly  between  God  and  the  soul.  The  more  corn- 
])letely  this  is  done,  the  greater  the  fitness  for  entrance.  We  must  be 
willing  simply  to  receive,  without  a  thought  of  merit  or  right,  what  God 
is  pleased  to  give  of  His  free  bounty.  The  New  Kingdom  is,  in  truth, 
altogether  spiritual.  It  works  directly  on  the  soul,  by  spiritual  truth.  It 
advances  in  the  individual  and  the  world,  not  by  outward  power,  or 
political  glory,  or  by  miracles,  but  by  the  Word  sown  in  the  heart,  and  its 
aim,  like  its  nature,  is  sjoiritual ;  to  make  the  heart  and  life  visibly  fruitful 
in  all  heavenly  grace." 

As  the  parable  of  the  sower  described  the  planting  of  the  New  Kingdom 
in  tlie  heart,  others  set  forth  the  secret  invisible  energy  of  the  Word,  by 
the  indestructible  vigour  of  which  the  New  Kingdom  unfolds  itself  in  the 
individual  and  in  the  world.  It  was  compared  to  the  silent  and  mysterious 
growth  of  seed,  which  springs  up  by  unperceived  development,  first  into 
the  blade,  then  into  the  ear,  and  finally  into  the  ripened  corn.  The 
triumjihant  future  found  an  analogy  in  the  growth  of  a  grain  of  mustard- 
seed— which,  though  at  first  a  mere  speck,  grows  to  be  greater  than  the 
herbs,  shooting  out  wide  branches,  and  becoming  a  tree,  in  the  shade  of 
which  the  birds  of  the  air  come  and  lodge.  It  found  another  in  the  silent 
leavening  of  three  measures  of  meal  by  a  spot  of  yeast  hidden  in  them. 
As  surely  as  the  seed  will  spring,  or  the  mustard-seed  become  a  tree,  or 
the  yeast  spread  through  all  the  three  measures  of  meal,  as  certainly  as 
the  spark  kindles  to  a  flame,  the  New  Kingdom  will  grow  and  expand  to 
world-wide  glory.  It  needs  no  battles  to  be  won,  as  the  hearers  fancied ; 
no  violent  revolutions.  Jesus  knew  that  the  living  force  of  truth  in  each 
single  heart  must  diffuse  itself,  and  that,  as  soul  after  soul  was  won,  it 
would  silently  revolutionize  the  world,  and  leaven  all  humanity. 

That  there  should  be  hindrances  was  only  natural,  and  these  He 
shadowed  out  in  the  pai-able  of  the  tares  secretly  sown  by  an  enemy  in  a 
man's  field,  and  undistinguishable  from  the  gi'ain  till  both  had  come  to 
fruit.  For  the  sake  of  the  wheat,  both  were  left,  by  the  householder,  till 
the  harvest,  but  in  the  end,  the  tares  would  be  gathered  for  burning,  and 
the  wheat  for  the  barn.  The  full  meaning  of  this  parable  was  given  after- 
wards by  Jesus  Himself.  The  visible  Church  would  include  in  it,  till 
the  last  day,  many  who  were  not  true  members.  To  separate  them  is 
not  the  part  of  man,  but  of  the  Judge.  But  this  is,  and  could  be,  meant 
only  in  a  general  sense ;  for  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Gospels  implies  the 
rejection  of  the  openly  unworthy,  and  their  reception  again  on  their 
repentance.  "Those  who  to-day  are  thorns,"  says  Augustine,  "may  be 
wheat  to-morrow." 

"  So,"  said  He,  also,  "  my  kingdom  may  be  likened  to  a  net  cast  into  tho 

G   G 


450  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

lake ;  wliich  encloses  good  fish  and  bad,  and,  when  full,  is  drawn  to  shore, 
and  the  good  gathered  into  vessels,  while  the  bad  are  cast  away." 

The  supreme  worth  of  citizenship  in  His  kingdom  He  set  forth  in 
separate  parables.  It  was  like  a  treasure  hidden  in  a  field,  which,  when 
fonnd,  so  filled  the  heart  of  the  discoverer,  that  for  joy,  he  Avent  a\Yay  and 
sold  all  he  had,  and  bought  the  field,  that  the  treasure  might  be  his.  Or, 
it  was  like  a  priceless  pearl  met  with  by  a  merchant  seeking  such  a 
treasure,  and  secured  by  him  at  the  cost  of  all  he  had.  The  kingdom 
might  be  found  by  some  without  their  seeking  it,  as  the  treasure  by  the 
peasant  in  the  field;  or  it  might  be  met  by  one  in  earnest  search  for  it,  like 
him  who  found  the  costly  pearl.  In  either  case,  it  could  only  be  obtained 
by  joyful  self-sacrifice  of  all  things  else  for  its  sake,  and  by  the  realization 
of  the  worthlessness  of  all  human  possessions  in  comjiarison  with  it. 

It  is  not  certain  that  all  these  parables  were  spoken  the  same  day, 
though  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  supposition  that  Jesus  should 
have  given  such  a  free  utterance  to  the  wealth  of  imagery  and  illustration 
which  flowed  from  His  lips  with  no  mental  effort.  But  the  evening  came 
at  last,  and  found  Him  wearied  out  with  the  work  and  agitations  of  such 
an  eventful  day.  Capernaum  could,  however,  no  longer  be  the  quiet  homo 
for  Him  which  it  had  been.  The  fierce  rage  of  the  priests  and  Rabbis  in 
the  morning,  and  their  intrigue  with  the  household  of  Nazareth,  to  lay 
hold  on  Him  as  a  madman,  possessed  with  a  devil,  showed  that  they  would 
stop  at  no  wickedness  to  get  Him  into  their  power.  The  controversy 
respecting  Him  had  penetrated  every  humble  cottage,  and  quiet  work  was 
no  longer  possible.  Moreover,  it  was  necessary  to  introduce  His  disci})] es 
to  a  wider  sphere  of  life  and  work  than  Capernaum  and  the  little  districts 
round  it,  in  prejoaration  for  their  independent  action,  and  to  form  and 
strengthen  their  character  and  power  of  self-reliance  by  putting  it  to  the 
proof,  and  revealing  to  them  the  weaknesses  yet  to  be  overcome. 

The  walls  of  lonely  hills  on  the  east  side  of  the  lake,  seamed  by  deep 
gorges  through  which  the  path  led  to  the  vast  upland  plains  of  the  eastern 
Jordan — a  region  little  known  to  the  busy  population  of  Galilee,  and  in 
bad  reputation  with  most,  as  more  heathen  than  Jewish — offered  Him  a 
secure  retreat.  Instead  of  returning  to  Peter's  house,  where  new  troubles 
might  have  awaited  Him,  He  ordered  His  disciples  to  carry  Him  to  the 
opposite  shore,  that  He  might  escape  from  all  painful  scenes,  and  enjoy 
peace  and  rest  for  a  time.  His  enemies  would  not  be  likely  to  seek  a 
Eabbi  like  Him  in  such  an  unclean  district ;  least  of  all  in  the  neighbour- 
hood He  first  visited — that  of  the  heathen  city,  Gadara. 

But  the  incidents  of  the  day  were  not  jet  over.  The  streets  on  the  way 
to  the  boat  were  full  of  the  evening  gossips,  glad  to  talk  with  their 
neighbours  in  the  browning  twilight,  now  their  day's  work  was  done ;  and, 
with  others  lingering  about,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the  great  Rabbi.  A 
number  of  these  soon  gathered  round  Christ  and  His  disciples  as  they 
made  towards  the  shore,  and  at  last  the  silence  was  broken  by  one  of  them, 
strange  to  say,  himself  a  Rabbi,  offering  to  follow  Him  as  His  scholar. 
"  Teacher,"  said  he,  "  I  will  follow  thee  wherever  you  go."  It  might  have 
seemed  a  great  thing  for  one  in  the  position  of  Jesus  to  have  a  Rablrl 


AFTER   THE    STOEM.  451 

among  His  discijjles,  but  He  never  courted  human  aid,  or  acted  on  mere 
expediency.  Tlie  highest,  no  less  than  the  humblest,  could  only  be  re- 
ceived on  the  condition  of  absolute  self-sacrifice  and  sincerity,  Nor  did 
He  readily  accept  those  who  offered  themselves,  but  chose  rather  to 
summon  such  as  He  wished,  to  His  immediate  circle.  "  Ye  have  not 
chosen  me,"  He  said,  on  a  future  occasion,  "  but  I  have  chosen  you."  He 
returned,  therefore,  only  an  answer  whicli  should  test  the  applicant's 
motives  to  the  uttermost.  "  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air 
nests,  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His  head."  Virtually 
driven  from  the  one  dwelling  at  Capernaum  He  could  regard  as  His  home, 
and  rejected  from  ISTazareth,  He  was,  henceforth,  a  wanderer,  with  no  fixed 
dwelling.  From  this  time  He  was  almost  a  fugitive  from  His  enemieSf 
never  remaining  long  in  any  one  place — a  homeless  and  houseless  man. 

To  a  second  applicant,  who  professed  himself  willing  to  follow  Him  as 
soon  as  he  had  discharged  the  laious  duty  of  burying  his  father,  the  start- 
ling answer  was  returned,  "  Let  the  (spiritually)  dead  bury  their  dead,  but 
go  thou  and  preach  the  kingdom  of  God."  Under  other  circumstances 
Christ  would  have  commended  such  filial  love  ;  but  it  was  necessary  now 
to  show,  by  a  supreme  example,  that  those  who  sought  to  follow  Him  must 
deny  natural  feelings,  otherwise  entirely  sacred,  when  the  interests  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  required  it.  He  had  in  mind,  doubtless,  the  thirty  days' 
mourning  that  were  virtually  implied,  and  knew  the  results  of  indecision 
in  a  matter  so  paramount.  It  was,  moreover,  a  requirement  of  the  Eabbis, 
in  similar  cases,  that  if  any  one  who  wished  to  be  a  scholar  of  the  Law, 
had  to  choose  between  burying  even  his  nearest  relation — his  parent,  or 
his  brother,  or  sister — and  devoting  himself  at  once  to  his  sacred  calling, 
he  should  leave  the  burial  to  others,  as  the  less  important  duty,  and  give 
himself  up  on  the  moment,  undividedly  to  the  Law.  The  words  of  Jesus 
were  the  familiar  and  well-known  expression  of  this  recognised  condition 
of  even  Rabbinical  discipleship.  The  applicant  would  have  been  recjuired 
to  act  thus  had  he  chosen  to  follow  a  Ealjbi,  and  less  devotion  and  sincerity 
could  not  be  demanded  in  the  service  of  the  New  Kingdom. 

A  third,  who  asked  leave  before  finally  following  Christ,  to  go  home  and 
bid  his  family  circle  farewell,  received  a  similar  answer, — "No  one  having 
put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of 
God ;  he  who  gives  himself  up  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  must  do  so  with 
an  undivided  heart,  suffering  no  earthly  cares  to  distract  him." 

He  had  set  out  for  the  lake  side  as  soon  as  the  multitudes  had  scattered 
sufficiently  to  open  the  way  :  and  now,  having  reached  it,  He  went  into  a 
fishing-boat,  just  as  He  was,  and  they  pushed  off  in  company  with  some 
other  boats.  It  was  already  late  for  Orientals  to  be  abroad,  and  the  rest 
in  the  open  air,  after  such  coiitinuous  mental  and  bodily  excitement,  soon 
brought  the  sweet  relief  of  deep  refresliing  sleep.  We  never  hear  of  Jesus 
being  ill :  and,  indeed,  such  a  life  as  His,  utterly  free  from  all  disturbing 
causes  which  might  induce  disease,  may  well  have  been  exceptionally 
healthy.  The  coarse  leather  boss  of  the  steersman's  seat,  at  the  end  of 
the  boat,  suSiced  for  a  pillow,  and  presently  He  forgot,  in  deep  slumber, 
the  cares  and  labours  of  the  day. 


452  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

The  sail  across,  however,  though  usually  so  refreshing  and  delightful, 
was  destined  to  be  rudely  disturbed.  The  lake  lies  in  its  deep  bed  among 
the  hills,  ordinarily,  smooth  as  a  mirror,  but  sudden  storms  at  times  rush 
down  every  wady  on  the  north-east  and  east,  and  lash  the  waters  into 
furious  roughness.  The  winds  sweeping  over  the  vast  bare  table-land  of 
Gaulonitis  and  the  Hauran  and  the  boundless  desert  beyond,  pour  down 
the  deep  ravines  and  gorges,  cut  in  the  course  of  ages  by  streams  and 
torrents,  on  their  way  to  the  lake,  and  lash  it  into  incredible  commotion. 
Its  position,  about  six  hundred  feet  below  the  Mediterranean,  induces  such 
sudden  hurricanes,  the  lower  level  heating  the  air  over  the  waters  till  the 
colder  atmosphere  of  the  hills  rushes  down  to  fill  the  vacuum  caused  by 
the  rarefaction. 

Such  a  storm  now  burst  on  the  calm  bosom  of  the  lake,  and  jiresently 
raised  the  waves  to  such  a  height,  that  the  unprotected  boat  was  all  but 
swamped.  In  the  wild  roaring  of  the  wind — amidst  blinding  torrents  of 
rain,  and  the  thick  darkness  of  the  hurricane  cloud,  which  blotted  out  the 
stars  ;  and  the  dashing  of  the  sea,  which  broke  over  them  each  moment — 
even  bronzed  sailors  like  the  Twelve  lost  their  presence  of  mind,  and  were 
filled  with  dismay.  Driven  before  the  wind,  they  were  fast  filling,  and,  as 
it  seemed,  must  presently  go  down.  Through  all  the  wild  tumult  of  wind, 
darkness,  rain,  and  sea,  however,  Jesus  lay  peacefully  asleep,  so  profoundly 
had  He  been  exhausted.  It  seemed  as  if  He  were  indifferent  to  their  fate. 
In  their  natural  reverence  they  long  hesitated  to  rouse  Him,  but  at  last 
did  so,  and  ajipealed  to  Him  to  save  them.  Amidst  the  terror  around.  He 
was  entirely  self-jiosscssed.  Rising,  He  gently  rebuked  the  fear  that  had 
so  unnerved  them,  and  then,  with  an  awful  sublimity,  rebuked  the  wind  as 
if  it  had  been  a  living  power,  and  bade  the  angry  sea  be  still ;  and  both 
wind  and  sea  at  once  obeyed  Him.  A  great  calm  sjoread  over  the  lake. 
"Why  are  ye  fearful,"  said  He,  "  0  ye  of  little  faith?"  They  had  seen 
Him  control  disease,  cast  out  devils,  and  even  raise  the  dead ;  could  they 
not  have  felt  assured  that  neither  winds  nor  waves  could  harm  them  when 
He  was  there  ?  What  manner  of  man  is  this  ?"  muttered  the  awe-struck 
Apostles,  "  for  He  commands  even  the  winds  and  water,  and  they  obey 
Him ! " 

The  boat  had  been  driven  to  the  southern  end  of  the  lake,  and  Christ 
consequently  landed  in  the  territory  of  the  city  of  Gadara,  a  half -heathen 
town  on  the  table-land,  twelve  hundred  feet  above  the  shore,  and  at  some 
distance  from  it.  It  was  then  in  its  glory,  and  lay  round  the  top  of  the 
hill,  looking  far  over  the  country.  Long  avenues  of  marble  pillars  lined 
its  streets ;  fine  buildings  of  squared  stones  abounded.  Two  great  amjjhi- 
theatres  of  black  basalt  adorned  the  west  and  north  sides,  and  there  was 
a  third  theatre  near  its  splendid  public  baths.  It  was  the  proud  home  of 
a  great  trading  community,  to  whom  life  was  bright  and  warm  when 
Jesus  landed  that  morning,  on  the  shore  beneath,  and  looked  up  towards 
its  walls. 

The  hill  on  which  Gadara  stands  is  of  soft  limestone,  full,  like  the  lime- 
stone of  Palestine  generally,  of  larger  and  smaller  caves,  many  of  which 
had  been  enlarged  by  the  poorer  classes  and  turned  into  dwelling-places, 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  453 

for  which  they  are  used  even  now,  while  others  had  been  converted  into 
tombs,  with  massive  stone  doors.  The  roadside  is  still  strewn  with  a 
number  of  sarcophagi  of  basalt,  sculptiTred  with  low  reliefs  of  genii,  gar- 
lands, wreaths  of  flowers,  and  human  faces,  in  good  preservation,  though 
long  emptied  of  their  dead. 

Madness  in  every  form  has,  in  all  ages,  been  treated  by  the  rude  thera- 
peutics of  the  East,  as  a  supernatural  visitation,  with  which  it  is  unsafe 
to  interfere  more  than  is  needed,  and  hence,  even  at  this  day,  furious  and 
dangerous  maniacs  may,  from  time  to  time,  be  seen  in  the  towns  of  Pales- 
tine, in  some  cases,  absolutely  naked.  Others,  equally  furious,  often 
betake  themselves  to  the  mountains,  and  sleep  in  tombs  and  caves.  In 
their  jiaroxysms  they  become  terribly  dangerous,  for  their  mental  excite- 
ment gives  them  prodigious  strength,  and  hence,  one  is  sometimes  a  terror 
to  a  whole  neighbourhood. 

Two  such  madmen,  it  seems,  had  taken  up  their  abode  in  the  caves  and 
tombs  by  the  side  of  the  road  from  the  lake  to  Gadara,  and  had  made  it 
almost  impassable,  from  their  fierceness.  Jesus  had  hardly  set  His  foot 
on  shore  before  they  sallied  out  towards  Him,  shrieking  amidst  the  wild 
howls  of  their  frenzy,  as  they  approached,  in  deprecation  of  His  inter- 
ference with  them.  From  some  reason,  now  unknown,  St.  ]\rark  and  St. 
Luke  speak  only  of  one  of  these  two  sufferers,  and  as  their  account  is  the 
fuller,  it  is  better  to  keep  to  it.  Both  were  more  than  merely  insane : 
they  Avere  possessed  with  devils,  and  conscious  that  they  were  so.  As  in 
similar  cases,  the  demoniac  jDresence  controlled  the  human  will,  and  spoke 
in  its  own  name.  Both  had  already  shown  their  terror  at  the  coming  of 
One  whom  they  recognised  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  adjured  Him  not  to 
torment  them  before  the  time.  But  now  the  one  of  whom  especially  St. 
Mark  and  St.  Luke  speak,  ran  and  fell  down  before  Jesus,  in  the  manner 
of  Eastern  reverence.  He  had  been  a  terror  to  the  whole  country  side, 
for  he  would  wear  no  clothes,  but  roamed  the  hills,  naked,  and  would  live 
only  in  the  tombs.  Efforts  had  been  made  to  jiut  him  in  restraint,  but 
neither  the  ropes  nor  chains  used  had  sufliced  to  hold  him.  Night  and 
day  he  wandered  the  mountains,  driven  hither  and  thither  by  the  myste- 
rious possession  that  had  him  in  its  power,  filling  the  air  with  his  howls 
and  shrieks,  and  cutting  himself  with  sharp  stones  in  his  frenzy.  But  a 
greater  than  the  strong  man  by  whom  he  was  enslaved  was  now  here. 
Though  dreading  His  presence,  the  demon  could  not  keep  away  from  it. 
It  may  be  that,  in  the  confused  human  consciousness,  there  was  yet  a 
glimmer  of  reason  and  moral  health  which  drove  him  to  the  Saviour ;  but, 
if  so,  the  spirit  took  the  word  from  him,  and  spoke  in  his  stead.  "  What 
is  thy  name  ?  "  said  Jesus  to  the  demon,  and  the  mysterious  answer  was, 
"  Legion,  for  we  are  many."  Forthwith  came  the  command  to  depart  out 
of  the  man.  But,  true  to  diabolical  instinct,  the  spirits  Avould  fain  injure, 
even  in  leaving.  On  the  slopes  of  the  hill,  a  great  herd  of  swine,  the  un- 
clean and  hateful  abomination  of  the  Jew,  were  feeding.  They  were,  doubt- 
less, owned  by  some  of  the  heathen  citizens  of  Gadara,  for  swine  were  in 
great  demand  among  the  foreign  population,  as  sacrifices  and  food.  "  Send 
us  into  the  swine,"  cried  the  devils,  "  and  do  not  drive  us  into  the  abyss," 


\ 


454  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

and  the  request  was  granted,  to  the  destruction  of  the  whole  herd,  which 
ran  violently  down  the  slojie  into  the  lake  and  were  drowned.  Jesus,  as  _ 
Son  of  God,  was  free  to  act  at  His  will  with  all  things,  for  they  were  all ' 
His  by  the  supreme  right  of  creation,  and  this  right  is  continually  used 
in  the  moral  government  of  the  world.  There  is  no  ground  for  a  moment's 
discussion  respecting  an  act  of  One  to  wliom  all  things  were  committed, 
as  Head  of  the  New  Kingdom,  by  the  Father. 

It  is  idle,  in  our  utter  ignorance  of  the  spirit  world,  to  raise  difficulties, 
as  some  have  done,  at  this  incident.  It  is  recorded  in  three  of  the  four 
Gospels,  and  cannot  be  explained  away  except  by  doing  violence  to  the 
concurrent  language  of  the  three  Evangelists.  However  mysterious,  it  is 
no  more  so  than  many  facts  in  the  life  of  Jesus,  and  must  be  taken  simply 
as  it  stands. 

The  terror  of  the  Apostles  in  the  storm  had  shown  how  little  Jesus 
could  rely  on  them  in  the  far  worse  trials  of  f utiu-e  years ;  but  the  mighty 
power  He  had  shown  in  stilling  the  tumult  of  the  elements,  had  been  a 
lesson  of  confidence  in  Him,  which  they  could  hardly  forget.  It  was  a 
further  step  in  their  training  to  trust  in  Him,  wlicu  they  now  saw  Him 
perform  the  still  more  wonderful  miracle  of  calming  the  inward  tempest 
of  a  human  soul.  In  neither  case  could  they  say  a  word.  They  stood 
silent  and  ashamed.  They  were  far,  as  yet,  from  having  grown  to  the 
spiritual  manhood  of  their  great  office. 

The  new  teaching  of  Jesus  had  excited,  for  a  time,  a  wide  popularity 
that  had  even  besieged  His  dwelling  and  thronged  His  person.  The  people 
had  given  Him  their  unhesitating  confidence.  But  His  collisions  with  the 
priests  and  Kabbis,  and  His  disturbed  relations  to  His  family — with  the 
whisperings  of  calumny  on  all  sides— had  chilled  the  enthusiasm  of  many. 
Distrust  and  suspicion  had  been  sown  in  hitherto  trustfid  minds,  and  these 
reports  had  penetrated  even  to  the  east  of  Jordan.  Their  earliest  open 
results  were  seen  at  Gadara,  for  it  was  here  He  first  met  with  open  want 
of  sympathy  with  His  person  and  work.  The  incident  of  the  destruction 
of  the  swine,  infuriating  the  owners,  was  enough,  with  what  they  had 
heard  before,  to  turn  the  people  against  Him.  The  insinuation  that  He 
cast  out  devils  by  a  league  with  their  chief,  filled  weak  minds  with  terror. 
He  had  hardly  landed,  and  was  in  sore  need  of  rest,  yet  was  at  once 
forced  to  leave.  For  the  first  time,  the  disciples  had  an  example  of  that 
invincible  unbelief  they  were,  hereafter,  to  meet  so  often.  But,  if  Jesus 
were  hindered  from  preaching  in  Decapolis,  He  had  the  satisfaction  of 
leaving  behind  Him  the  former  maniac,  now  clothed  and  in  his  right 
mind,  to  spread  the  fact  of  his  deliverance.  The  poor  man  would  fain  have 
followed  his  Benefactor,  but  Jesus  had  other  Avork  for  him.  Contrary  to 
His  rule  hitherto.  He  dismissed  him,  with  directions  to  go  home  to  his- 
friends,  and  tell  them  the  great  things  the  Lord  had  done  for  him,  and 
how  He  had  had  compassion  on  him.  His  preacliing,  however  simple,  was 
a  seed  of  future  good  in  these  regions. 

Forced  to  return  to  Capernaum,  Jesus  had  scarcely  landed,  when  a  de- 
mand was  made  on  His  sympathy  which  He  could  not  resist.  One  of  the 
rulers,  or  chief  men   of  the  synagogue,  a  local  dignitary,  named  Jairus, 


AFTEE   THE    STORM.  455 

Iiad  an  only  daughter,  a  rising  girl  of  about  twelve,  at  the  point  of  death. 
After  all  that  had  passed  between  Jesus  and  the  Rabbis  in  the  town,  it 
must  have  been  a  great  effort  for  one  in  the  position,  and  with  the  inevit- 
able prejudices  of  Jairus,  to  seek  His  aid ;  but  distress  humbles  pi-ide, 
and  often  quickens  faith.  Pressing  towards  Him,  he  fell  at  His  feet, — as 
inferiors  then  did,  and  still  do,  in  the  East,  before  those  greatly  above 
them, — regardless  of  the  crowd  around,  and  besought  Him  to  come  and 
lay  His  hand  on  his  child,  and  restore  her  to  health.  A  heart  that  sympa- 
thized with  all  sorrow  could  not  withstand  such  an  appeal,  and,  forthwith) 
He  set  out  to  the  ruler's  house,  through  the  throng  that  attended  all  His 
movements.  Before  arriving  there,  however,  a  message  came  that  the 
sufferer  was  dead,  and  that  there  was  no  need  of  further  trouble.  They 
little  knew  who  was  on  His  way  to  them.  "Be  not  afraid,"  said  He  to 
the  ruler,  "  only  believe."  The  crowd  of  relatives  and  friends  that  always 
throng  the  chamber  of  death  in  Palestine,  had  already  begun  the  pitiful 
wails  and  cries  of  Eastern  lamentations,  and  dirge-flutes  had  commenced 
to  add  their  sad  burden  to  the  tumrJt.  Jesus  had  perhaps  been  delayed 
before  starting,  and,  as  preparations  for  burial  commence  as  soon  as  breath 
leaves  the  body,  the  corpse  had  probably  been  washed,  and  laid  out  in  the 
customary  way  for  the  grave,  before  He  came. 

The  noise  and  confusion  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  work  Jesus  de- 
signed. "  Why  make  ye  this  ado  and  weep  P  "  said  He,  as  He  entered ; 
"  the  damsel  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  He  used  the  word,  doubtless, 
just  as  He  afterwards  did  in  the  case  of  Lazarus,  but  they  mocked  at  His 
pretended  knowledge,  which  seemed  to  impute  error  to  themselves ;  for 
they  knew  that  she  was  dead.  He  was  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  would 
have  no  such  disturbing  excitement,  and  therefore  caused  the  crowd  to 
leave  the  chamber  of  death.  Only  the  father  and  mother  of  the  girl,  and 
the  three  disciples,  Peter,  James,  and  John,  were  allowed  to  see  His 
triumph  over  the  King  of  Terrors.  Taking  the  damsel  by  the  hand,  and 
using  words  of  the  language  of  His  people, — "  Talitha  cumi — Damsel,  I  say 
unto  thee,  arise,"— the  spirit  returned  to  the  pale  form,  and  she  rose  and 
walked.  But  in  Capernaum,  at  a  time  when  His  enemies  were  so  keenly 
watchful,  cautious  obscurity  was  needed,  and  He  therefore  enjoined  silence 
as  to  the  miracle. 

On  the  way  a  touching  incident  had  happened.  A  woman,  troubled  for 
many  years  with  an  internal  ailment,  after  "  having  suffered  many  things 
of  many  physicians,  and  having  spent  her  all "  in  the  vain  hope  of  cure, 
resolved  to  seek  help  froin  Jesus.  It  is  no  wonder  that  she  had  given  up 
the  faculty  of  the  day,  for  their  practice  was  in  keeping  with  tlie  scientific 
ignorance  of  the  times.  Lightfoot  cpiotes  from  the  Talmud  the  Jewish 
medical  treatment  of  such  a  complaint.  It  was  as  follows  :  "  Take  of  the 
gum  of  Alexandria  the  weight  of  a  zuzee  (a  fractional  silver  coin) ;  of 
alum  the  same ;  of  crocus  the  same.  Let  them  be  bruised  together,  and 
given  in  wine  to  the  woman  that  has  an  issue  of  blood.  If  this  does  not 
benefit,  take  of  Persian  onions  three  logs  (pints) ;  boil  them  in  wine  and 
give  her  to  rbink,  and  say,  '  Arise  from  thy  flux.'  If  this  docs  not  cure 
her,  set  her  in  a  place  where  two  ways  meet,  and  let  her  hold  a  cup  of  wine 


456  THE   LIFE   OF   CHIIIST. 

in  her  right  hand,  and  let  some  one  come  behind  and  frighten  her,  and  say, 
'Arise  from  thy  flux.'  But  if  that  do  no  good,  take  a  handful  of  cummin 
(a  kind  of  fennel),  a  handful  of  crocus,  and  a  handful  of  fenugreek  (another 
kind  of  fennel).  Let  these  be  boiled  in  wine,  and  give  them  her  to  drink, 
and  say,  '  Arise  from  thy  flux.' "  If  these  do  no  good,  other  cures,  over 
ten  in  number,  are  prescribed ;  among  them,  this — "  Let  them  dig  seven 
ditches,  in  which  let  them  burn  some  cuttings  of  vines,  not  yet  four  years 
old.  Let  her  take  in  her  hand  a  cup  of  wine,  and  let  them  lead  her  away 
from  this  ditch,  atid  make  her  sit  down  over  that.  And  let  them  remove 
her  from  that,  and  make  her  sit  down  over  another,  saying  to  her  at  each 
remove,— 'Arise  from  thy  flux.'" 

But  these  were  only  a  few  of  the  more  harmless  prescriptions  in  vogue. 
The  condition  of  medical  science  in  the  East  may  be  judged  from  its 
character  at  the  centre  of  civilization  and  progress  in  the  West.  Pliny's 
Natural  History  gives  us  some  curious  glimpses  of  this.  Ashes  of  burnt 
wolf's  skull,  stags'  horns,  the  heads  of  mice,  the  eyes  of  crabs,  owls'  brains, 
the  livers  of  frogs,  vipers'  fat,  grasshoppers,  bats,  etc.,  supplied  the  alkalis 
which  were  prescribed.  Physicians  were  wont  to  order  doses  of  the  gall 
of  wild  swine,  of  horses'  foam,  of  woman's  milk ;  the  laying  a  piece  of  ser- 
pent's skin  on  an  afi^eeted  part,  mixtures  of  the  urine  of  cows  that  had  not 
been  sucked,  the  fat  of  bears,  the  juice  of  boiled  bucks'  horns,  and  other 
similar  abominations.  For  colic,  they  prescribed  the  dung  of  swine  or 
hares,  for  dysentery  powdered  horses'  teeth,  for  affections  of  the  bladder 
the  urine  of  wild  swine,  or  asses'  kidneys,  or  plasters  of  mice-dung.  It 
was  a  great  assistance  in  childbirth  if  the  mother,  or  any  of  her  circle,  ate 
wolf's  flesh.  Cold  in  the  head  was  cured  by  kissing  a  mule's  nose.  Sore 
throat  was  removed  by  embrocations  of  snails'  slime,  and  the  inhalation  of 
the  fumes  of  snails  slowly  burnt.  Quinsy  was  cured  with  the  brain  of  the 
marsh  owl;  diseases  of  the  lungs,  with  mouse-flesh;  disorders  of  the 
stomach  with  boiled  snails,  of  which,  however,  only  an  odd  number  must 
be  taken ;  weakness  of  the  bowels,  with  powdered  bats  ;  miscarriages  were 
prevented  by  carrying  about  with  one  a  liviiig  ami^hisbeena,  a  small  snake 
which  was  believed  to  be  able  to  go  either  backwards  or  forwards  ;  frogs' 
eyes  were  useful  for  contusions,  if  the  eyes  were  taken  out  at  the  conjunc- 
tion of  the  moon,  and  kept  in  an  egg-shelL  Frogs  boiled  in  vinegar  were 
sovereign  for  tooth-ache ;  for  cough,  the  slime  of  frogs  which  had  been 
hung  up  by  the  feet ;  for  rupture,  sea  hedgehogs — the  echinus— dissolved 
in  asses'  milk ;  for  diseases  of  the  glands,  scorpions  boiled  in  wine ;  for 
ague  or  intermittent  fever,  the  stone  from  the  head  of  sea-eels,  but  it  must 
be  taken  out  at  the  full  moon. 

The  poor  woman  who  now  determined  to  seek  help  from  Jesus  had  en- 
dured all  the  tortures  of  such  medical  treatment  for  twelve  years,  and,  of 
course,  was  hurt  rather  than  healed.  She  could  not,  however,  venture  to 
spoak  to  Jesus  ;  perhajDS  womanly  shame  to  tell  her  disease  in  public  kept 
her  back ;  perhaps  reverence  for  One  so  mysteriously  above  other  men. 
Besides,  she  was  unclean,  and  had  to  stand  aloof  from  society.  Joining 
the  crowd  following  Him  to  the  house  of  Jairus,  she  could  only  dare  to 
touch  the  zizith,  or  tassel,  that  hung  on  the  corner  of  His  outer  garment, 


AFTER   THE    STORM.  457 

as  on  those  of  all  othei'  Jews.  The  touch  at  once  healed  her,  but  it  did  nob 
pass  unnoticed.  To  have  let  it  do  so,  might  have  seemed  to  give  counte- 
nance to  a  superstitious  fancy  that  His  clothes  had  virtue  in  themselves. 
Turning  round,  He  at  once  asked  who  touched  Him.  She  could  no  longer 
hide  her  act,  and,  alarmed  lest  her  boldness  should  be  punished  by  the 
renewal  of  the  trouljle  she  now  felt  to  have  been  healed,  fell  down  before 
Him,  and  told  Him  all  the  truth.  It  was  enough.  "  Daughter,"  said  He, 
"tliy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole;  go  in  peace,  and  be  whole  of  thy 
plague." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

DAKK   AND   BRIGHT. 

AMONG-  the  crowd  that  had  gathered  round  the  house  of  Jairus,  the 
supernatural  powers  of  Jesus  found  renewed  exercise.  No  sooner 
had  He  reappeared  than  two  blind  men  followed  Him  to  Peter's  house, 
appealing  to  Him  as  the  long-expected  Messiah — "  Have  mercy  upon  us, 
Son  of  David."  It  was  an  invariable  condition  of  His  granting  His  mira- 
culous aid  that  those  who  sought  it  should  come  with  sincere  and  trustful 
hearts,  for  to  such  alone  could  any  higher  good  be  gained  by  mere  outward 
relief.  The  poor  men  eagerly  assured  Him  that  they  believed  He  could  do 
what  they  asked,  and  with  a  touch  of  His  hand  their  eyes  were  opened. 
•'  According  to  your  faith,"  said  He,  "  be  it  unto  you."  The  prudent 
charge  not  to  speak  of  their  restored  sight,  so  necessary  after  all  that  had 
lately  passed,  was  heard  only  to  be  forgotten,  for,  in  their  joy,  they  could 
not  refrain  from  publishing  it  wherever  they  went.  Another  miracle  of 
these  days  is  recorded — the  casting  out  a  devil  from  one  who  was  dumb, 
so  that  the  sufferer,  henceforth,  spoke  freely.  The  multitudes  were 
greatly  moved  by  such  repeated  demonstrations  of  transcendent  power, 
which  seemed  to  surpass  all  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  Israel,  but 
this  popularity  embittered  His  enemies  the  more.  Repeating  their  old 
blasphemy,  they  could  only  mutter,  "He  casts  out  devils  by  being  in 
league  with  their  prince."  That  He  should  thus  recognise  classes  whom 
they  represented  as  accursed,  and  from  whom  they  withdrew  themselves 
as  unclean,  seemed  a  reflection  on  their  teaching  and  conduct.  The  blind, 
the  leper,  the  poor,  and  the  childless,  were  alike  accounted  stricken  of 
God,  and  "  dead,"  by  the  hard  Judaism  of  the  day,  and  yet  He  associated 
freely  with  all  who  sought  Him.  Either  He  or  they  must  be  vitally 
wrong. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  year,  and  the  Twelve  had  not  yet  gone  out  on  any 
independent  mission.  He  had  taken  them  with  Him  on  His  circuits  round 
Capernaum,  to  train  them  for  wider  fields.  They  had  seen  Him  scatter- 
ing the  first  seed,  and  caring  for  it  in  its  growth ;  preserving  what  had 
been  won,  strengthening  the  weak,  and  calling  the  cai^eless  to  repentance. 
Their  experience,  though  gained  in  this  narrow  sphere,  had  been  widely 
varied.  More  lately  they  had  seen  unbelief  in  the  Gadarenes,  weak  faith 
in  themselves,  and  loving  trust  in  the  woman  who  had  touched  Jesus,  and 


458  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

even  in  the  two  blind  men  at  Peter's  house.  Another  lesson,  however,  was 
needed— that  of  fierce  opposition— which  they  were  destined  to  meet  so 
often  hereafter. 

Jesus  had  never  visited  Nazareth  since  His  leaving  it,  and  His  heart 
must  have  yearned  to  proclaim  the  New  Khigdom  to  the  population  among 
whom  He  had  lived  so  long.  The  visit  of  Mary  and  of  His  sisters  and 
brothers,  to  Capernaum,  to  take  Him  away  with  them,  however  mistaken, 
had,  doubtless,  been  prompted  by  the  tenderest  motives.  Simple  country 
people,  they  had  heard  from  their  holy  Eal)bis  that  He  whom  they  so 
loved  had  overstrained  His  mind  and  body  till  His  reason  had  failed,  and 
that  there  was  ground  to  fear  that  the  Evil  One  had  secretly  taken  ad- 
vantage of  His  enthusiasm  to  work  miracles  by  His  hands.  What  could 
it  be,  indeed,  but  serving  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  to  slight  the  sacred 
traditions  by  acts  like  mixing  with  the  common  people  witliout  bathing 
afterwards,  or  breaking  the  Sabbath  by  healing  on  it,  or  by  allowing  the 
disciples  to  pluck  corn  and  rub  it  in  their  hands  on  the  holy  day,  or  letting 
a  leper  come  near  Him,  or  eating  v/ith  unclean  publicans  and  sinners  ?  He 
was  a  revolutionist ;  He  was  turning  the  world  ujiside  down ;  He  was 
questioning  the  wisdom  and  authority  of  the  Eabbis  ;  and  who  but  the  devil 
or  his  emissary  could  do  that  ? 

It  was  a  grave  matter,  however,  to  revisit  Nazareth.  If  His  nearest 
relatives  had  given  way  to  such  fears  respecting  Him,  what  could  He 
expect  from  the  multitude,  who  had  known  Him  only  in  His  humble  ob- 
scurity P  He  must  seem  to  them,  at  the  least,  a  dangerous  disturber  of 
the  religion  of  the  land;  a  fanatic  who  was  stirring  up  confusion  in  Israel. 
But,  where  duty  called.  He  never  knew  fear.  In  company  with  His  dis- 
ciples He  set  out  from  Capernaum,  taking  the  road  along  the  hills  by  the 
lake,  to  Magdala,  turning  westward  from  it,  through  the  Valley  of  Doves, 
by  Arbela,  with  its  high  cliffs  and  robber  caves,  and  the  Horns  of  Ilattin, 
past  Tabor,  south-westerly  to  Nazareth.  It  was  only  a  journey  of  seven 
hours,  and  could  easily  be  made  in  a  day.  He  stayed  in  Nazareth  several 
days,  no  doubt  in  His  mother's  house. 

The  sword  had  already  begun  to  pierce  the  Yirgin's  heart.  Tender, 
humble,  patient,  and  loving,  she  had  trials  we  cannot  realize.  Knowing 
that  her  son  was  the  Messiah,  her  faith  was  sorely  perplexed  by  His  past 
course,  for  her  ideas  were  those  of  her  nation,  and  His  were  wholly  oppo- 
site. Her  intimate  knowledge  of  the  sacred  oracles  of  her  people  had 
shown  itself  in  the  Magnificat :  her  simple  trust  in  God,  her  hajjpy  thank- 
fulness of  soul,  her  musing  thoughtfulness,  her  modest  humility,  her 
strength  of  mind  and  energy  of  purpose,  had  all  been  seen  in  earlier 
days,  and,  no  doubt,  as  she  grew  older,  the  light  of  a  higher  world  was 
reflected  with  ever-increasing  glory  from  her  soul.  But  she  was,  and  must 
have  been,  in  sore  trouble  at  the  position  of  her  Son.  His  first  interview 
with  her  has  been  conceived  thus  :— 

"  Eefreshment  over,  and  thanks  returned,  with  covered  head,  by  Jesus, 
we  m^y  fancy  how  Mary  followed  Him  to  His  own  chamber.  When,  at 
last,  she  thus  had  Him  alone,  she  fell  on  His  neck ;  but  instead  of  kissing 
Him,  as  she  had  done  a  thousand  times,  secretly,  in  spirit,  she  hid  her 


DAEK  AND   BRIGHT.  459 

face  on  His  shoulder,  find  a  stream  of  tears  fell  from  her  eyes.     She  wcpfc 
without  speaking,  and  would  not  let  Him  go. 

"  At  last,  Jesus  said,  '  Mother,  be  calm,  and  sit  down  by  me,  and  tell 
me  why  you  weep.'     She  did  so,  and  began — her  hand  in  His,  and  His 
eyes  fixed  on  hers — 'I  rejoice  that  at  last  I  have  you  again,  and  grieve 
that  we  shall  soon  have  once  more  to  part.'     'Do  you  know,  then,'  asked 
Jesus,  '  how  soon  or  how  late  I  shall  leave  this  world  ?  '     '  O  my  child,' 
replied  Mary,  '  does  not  the  deathly  whiteness  of  your  face  tell  me  that 
yon  are  wearing  yourself  out  ?  and  if  you  do  not  wear  yourself  out,  though 
I  am  a  woman,  shut  in  by  the  four  corners  of  my  house,  how  can  I  help 
seeing  that  the  hatred  of  your  enemies  increases  daily,  and  that  they  have 
long  sworn  your  death  ?  '    'Granted,'  broke  in  Jesus,  'but  have  not  a  great 
part  of  the  people  banded  round  me,  and  does  not  this  stand  in  the  way 
of  the  plots  against  me  ? '     '  Indeed,'  replied  Mary,  '  the  might  of  your 
preaching,  your  independence  towards  those  in  power  at  Jerusalem,  the 
novelty  of  your  whole  appearance,  and,  above  all,  your  miracles,  have  won 
many  to  your  side,  but  the  favour  of  the  people  is  like  a  rain-torrent,  which 
swells  quickly  only  to  pass  away  as  soon.'      '  You  are   right,  O   blessed 
among  women,'  answered  Jesus  ;  '  most  of  this  people  seek  not  salvation 
from  sin,  but  from  quite  other  burdens,  and  when  the  decisive  moment 
comes,  they  will  forsake  me,  faint-heartedly  and  ungratefully.     Your  look 
into  the  future  does  not  deceive  you,  but  even  the  enmity  and  evil  of  men 
serve  the  counsels  of  God,  which  I  came  to  fulfil.     My  way  goes  down- 
wards to  deep  darkness,  from  which  my  soul  shi'inks,  but  I  follow  the  will 
of  my  Father,  whether  the  road  be  up  or  do'wn.'     As  he  spoke.  His  coun- 
tenance, which  had  been  clouded  for  a  moment,  was,  as  it  were,  trans- 
figured, as  the  Divine  in  His  nature  shone  through  the  human ;  and  Mary, 
drinking  in  all  these  beams,  thrilled  with  a  more  than  mortal  joy.     There 
was  a  long  pause.     Mary  was  silent,  but  she  was,  as  always,  wrapt  in 
prayer.     '  Fair,'  said  she,  in  the  thoughts  of  her  soul,  '  is  the  rising  sun, 
fair  the  green  vine,  fair  the  blue  sea,  but  fairer  than  all  is  He.     What  an 
hour  is  this !     My  eyes  have  beheld  the  King  in  His  beauty.'  "     The  pic- 
ture is  beautiful,  but  it  ascribes  feelings  to  Mary  which  sprang  only  later. 
It  had  been  the  instinctive  practice  of  Jesus,  from  early  childhood,  to 
attend  all  the  synagogue  services,  and  He  was  still  suffered  to  do  so,  in 
spite  of  the  opposition  He  had  excited.     When  Sabbath  came,  therefore. 
He  went  to  morning  worshijD,  and,  after  the  reading  of  the  Toi'ah,  stood 
up  in  silent  offer  to  read  the  Haphtara  of  the  day  from  the  Prophets.     He 
was  forthwith  called  to  the  reading  desk,  wlien  the  Sheliach  Tsibbur,  or 
Hazan,  handed  him  the  roll.     The  lesson  for  the  day  could  not  have  been 
more  appropriate,  for  it  contained  the  passage  of  Isaiah  which  spoke  of  the 
Messiah — "  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me,  because  He  anointed  me  to 
preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor.     He  has  sent  mo  to  proclaim  deliverance  to 
the  captives,  and  ]-ccovery  of  sight  to  the  blind  :  to  set  at  liberty  the  op- 
pressed :  to  proclaim  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord."    Then  sitting  down, 
He  began  His  Midrash,  or  explanation,  commenting  on  the  passage  in  lan- 
guage which  astonished  the  hearers,  and  applying  the  predictions  of  the 
prophets  to  Hijnself. 


460  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

But  the  honest  wonder  and  delight  at  His  words  speedily  gave  way 
to  less  friendly  feeling.  Whispers  soon  ran  through  the  congregation 
respecting  Him.  How  came  He  by  such  wisdom  ?  He  belonged  to  no 
school ;  claimed  no  place  in  the  succession  of  Rabbis :  sjioke  on  His  own 
authority,  without  ordination  or  sanction  from  the  doctors.  Is  not  this 
the  carpenter,  the  son  of  Mary  and  Joseph,  the  brother  of  James  and 
Joses,  and  of  Juda  and  Simon  ?  and  are  not  His  sisters  here  with  us  ? 
They  could  not  realize  tliat  One  with  whom,  and  with  whose  circle,  they 
had  been  on  familiar  relations  could  be  a  prophet.  Perhaps  His  freedom 
towards  the  traditions  had  offended  the  strict  notions  of  some  of  His 
brothers,  and  the  petty  jealousy  of  a  country  village  could  not  acknow- 
ledge a  superior  in  one  M'hom  they  had  long  treated  as  an  equal,  or  even 
an  inferior.  His  humble  origin,  His  position  as  a  carpenter — a  trade  He 
had  learned  among  them — the  absence  of  anything  special  in  His  family, 
and  the  fact  that  even  they  did  not  acknowledge  His  claims,  were  all  re- 
membered. Perhaps  jealousy  of  Capernaum  mingled  with  other  thoughts, 
for  He  had  done  miracles  there,  and  none  in  Nazareth.  Moreover,  if  He 
did  not  belong  to  the  schools,  He  could  not  speak  or  act  by  inspiration 
from  above,  for  the  Rabbis  were  the  teachers  appointed  by  God.  He  must 
do  His  miracles,  as  the  Eabbis  said,  by  the  help  of  the  devil.  He  could 
not,  they  began  to  think,  have  come  by  His  knowledge  and  eloquence  by 
fair  means,  or  in  the  usual  way.     He  must  have  unholy  aid. 

This  was  enough  to  turn  the  synagogue  against  Him,  and  His  own 
words  intensified  the  revolution  of  feeling,  and  brought  it  to  a  crisis.  He 
frankly  told  them  that  He  knew  they  thought  "  that  befoi'e  helping  them 
He  should  helj)  Himself,  by  removing  the  suspicion  and  disrespect  they 
growingly  felt ;  doing  miracles  like  those  of  Capernaum,  as  the  only  way 
to  convince  them  of  His  claims  !  But  He  would  not  do  in  Nazareth  what 
He  had  done  there,  for  He  well  knew  that  no  prophet  had  any  honour  in 
his  own  country.  Had  not  Elijah  confined  his  miraculous  power  to  stran- 
gers, and  they  heathen,  and  withdrawn  it  from  Israel  ?  Their  hardness 
of  heart  enforced  the  same  on  Him,  and  if  Israel,  as  a  whole,  showed  a 
like  spirit,  it,  also,  would  see  His  mighty  works  withdrawn,  and  shown 
among  the  heathen."  They  could  stand  no  more.  The  whole  synagogue 
rose  in  commotion,  and  in  wild  uproar  hustled  Him  towards  the  steep 
wall  of  rock  hard  by,  to  throw  Him  from  it,  headlong.  But  His  time  was 
not  yet  come.  A  spell  cast  on  the  fierce  mob  opened  a  way  for  Him,  and 
He  passed  through  them,  and  left  the  town  unhurt. 

This  disastrous  result  so  far  exceeded  all  previous  experience,  that  Jesus 
Himself  marvelled  at  their  unbelief.  It  even  fettered  His  action,  for  "  He 
could  do  no  mighty  work,  save  that  He  laid  His  hands  upon  a  few  sick, 
and  healed  them."  He  exerted  His  miraculous  power  only  towards  those 
in  whom  He  found  moral  sympathy,  however  imperfect.  The  human  will, 
mysteriously  independent,  needed  to  meet  His  supernatural  might,  and 
give  it  entrance;  as  if  the  soul,  opposed  or  indifferent,  were  wayside  soil, 
on  which  the  seeds  of  physical,  as  of  moral  blessing,  fell  without  fruit. 

But  though  He  left  Nazareth  never  to  return.  He  remained  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood for   a  time,   preaching   in  the  villages   of   the   great  plain   of 


DAEK   AND   BRIGHT.  461 

Esdraelon,  far  and  near.  The  whole  theatre  of  His  activity,  hoAvcver,  in 
this  circuit,  as  in  previous  ones,  was  limited  beyond  ordinary  conception. 
From  north  to  south,  between  Chorazin,  which  lay  beyond  Capernaum  and 
Jezreel  in  the  great  plain,  was  only  a  distance  of  ten  hours,  and  from  east 
to  west,  from  Chorazin  to  Cana,  or  Nazareth,  only  six  or  seven.  His  whole 
life  was  spent  in  a  space  represented  by  one  or  two  English  counties,  but 
the  seed  sown  on  this  speck  of  ground  is  yet  to  cover  the  earth ! 

The  Apostles  had  now  passed  through  a  lengthened  and  varied  expe- 
rience, and  besides  the  constant  instruction  of  their  Master's  words  and 
life,  had  learned  from  their  own  hearts  how  great  their  moral  deficiencies 
still  were.  Their  faint-heartcdness,  irresoluteness,  and  want  of  faith,  were 
evident,  and  they  were  thus  brought  to  that  modest  self-distrust  which 
alone  could  fit  them  for  the  heavier  duties  before  them.  They  were  now 
to  rise  from  the  position  of  merely  dependent  followers  and  scholars,  and 
become  co-workers  with  Jesus,  and  that  not  only  on  the  good  soil  already 
sown,  but,  also,  on  the  hard  trodden  paths,  the  stony  ground,  and  that 
pre-occupied  by  thorns.  In  Gadara  and  Nazareth,  they  had  learned  to  dis- 
tinguish the  ojDposite  aspects  of  unbelief ;  in  the  one,  that  of  common 
natural  selfishness  and  harshness ;  in  the  other,  that  of  proud  perverted 
fanaticism.  After  long  wanderings  and  continuous  trials,  the  Twelve 
were  now,  in  their  Master's  opinion,  in  a  measure  prepared  to  work  by 
themselves  in  spreading  the  New  Kingdom.  In  spite  of  the  opposition  of 
the  interested  professional  classes,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  to  hear 
the  new  teaching  was  unabated.  Multitudes  followed  Jesus  wherever  He 
appeared,  the  synagogues  still  offered  access  to  the  whole  population  each 
Sabbath,  and  in  all  the  cities  and  villages  of  Galilee,  the  "  Gospel  of  the 
Kingdom  "  was  the  great  topic  of  conversation. 

The  times,  moreover,  were  exciting.  The  whole  country  rang  with  the 
story  of  a  massacre  of  Galilteans  by  Pilate,  at  the  last  Feast  of  Tabernacles 
— perhaps  at  the  same  tumult  in  which  Joseph  Barabbas  was  arrested  as  a 
ringleader ;  to  be  afterwards  freed  instead  of  Jesus.  Pilate  was  always 
ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  a  people  he  hated,  and  the  hot-headed  Galilajans, 
ever  ready  to  take  affront  at  the  hated  infidels,  gave  him  only  too  many 
excuses  for  violence.  They  had  a  standing  grievance  in  the  sacrifices 
offered  daily  for  the  Empire  and  the  Emperor,  and  at  the  presence  of  a 
Roman  garrison  and  Boman  pickets  at  the  Temple  during  the  feasts,  to 
keep  the  peace,  as  Turkibh  soldiers  do  at  this  day,  during  Easter,  at  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  But  Pilate  had  given  special  offence,  at 
this  time,  by  approj^riating  joart  of  the  treasures  of  the  Temple,  derived 
mainly  from  dues  voluntarily  paid  by  all  Jews,  over  the  world,  and 
amounting  to  vast  sums  in  the  aggregate — to  defray  the  cost  of  great 
conduits  he  had  begun  for  the  better  supply  of  Jerusalem  with  water. 
Stirred  up  by  the  priests  and  Rabbis,  the  people  had  besieged  Pilate's 
residence  when  he  came  up  to  the  city  at  the  feast,  and  with  loud  con- 
tinuous cries  had  demanded  that  the  works  be  given  up.  Seditious  words 
against  himself,  the  representative  of  the  Emperor,  had  not  been  wanting. 
He  had  more  than  once  been  forced  to  yield  to  such  clamour,  but  this  time 
determined  to  put  it  down.     Numbers  of  soldiers,  in  plain  clothes,  and 


462  THE   LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

armed  only  with  clubs,  surrounded  the  vast  mob,  and  used  their  cudgels 
so  remorselessly  that  many,  both  of  the  innocent  and  guilty,  were  left  dead  * 
on  the  spot.  The  very  precincts  of  the  Temple  were  invaded  by  the  legion- 
aries, and  some  pilgrims  who  were  so  poor  that  they  were  slaying  their 
own  sacrifices,  were  struck  down  while  doing  so,  their  blood  mingling  with 
that  of  the  beasts  they  were  preparing  for  the  priests,  and  thus  polluting 
the  House  of  God.  It  was  an  unprecedented  outrage,  and  filled  every 
breast  in  Judea  and  Galilee  with  the  wildest  indignation,  though  such 
brawls  were  of  frequent  occurrence.  The  excitement  had  even  penetrated 
the  palace  at  Tiberias,  and  kindled  bitter  ill-feeling  in  Antipas  towards 
Pilate,  for  the  men  slain  were  Galila?an  subjects. 

Another  misfortune  had  happened  in  Jerusalem  a  short  time  before.  A 
tower,  apparently  on  the  top  of  Ophel,  near  the  Fountain  of  the  Virgin, 
opposite  Siloam,  had  fallen — perhaps  one  of  the  buildings  connected  with 
Pilate's  public-spirited  steps  to  bring  w^ater  to  the  Holy  City — and  eighteen 
men  had  been  buried  beneath  it;  in  the  opinion  of  the  jaeople,  as  a  judg- 
ment of  God,  for  their  having  helped  the  sacrilegious  undertaking. 

The  cry  for  a  national  rising  to  avenge  the  murdered  pilgrims  rose  on 
every  side,  but  Jesus  did  not  sanction  it  for  a  moment.  He  saw  the  arm 
of  God  even  in  the  hated  Romans  and  in  the  fall  of  the  tower,  and,  instead 
of  recognising  special  guilt  in  the  sufferers,  or  joining  in  a  cry  for  insur- 
rection for  the  crime  of  Pilate,  told  His  hearers  that  the  same  horrors 
were  like  to  fall  on  the  whole  nation.  "  Suppose  ye,"  He  asks,  "  that  these 
Galileans  were  sinners  above  all  the  Galiloaans,  because  they  have  suffered 
such  things  ?  I  tell  you  nay ;  but,  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  perish  in 
like  manner.  Or  those  eighteen,  upon  whom  the  tower  in  Siloam  fell  and 
killed  them,  sui^pose  ye  that  they  w^ere  sinners  above  all  the  men  that  dwell 
in  Jerusalem  p  I  tell  you  nay ;  but,  except  ye  repent,  ye  will  all  perish  in 
the  same  manner."  "  Israel,"  He  added,  "  is  like  a  fig-tree,  planted  by  a 
man  in  his  vineyard,  which  year  after  year  bore  no  fruit.  Wearied  by  its 
barrenness,  the  householder  was  determined  to  cut  it  down,  and  it  vras 
now  spared  at  the  intercession  of  the  vine-dresser,  only  for  another  year,  to 
give  it  a  last  respite.  After  that,  if  it  still  bore  no  fruit,  he  would  cut  it 
dovfn,  as  merely  cumbering  the  ground.  That  year  of  merciful  delay  was 
the  passing  moment  of  His  own  presence  and  work  among  them.  The 
nation  had  given  itself  up  to  a  wild  dream,  that  would  end  in  its  ruin. 
Led  by  the  priests  and  Rabbis,  it  trusted  that  God  would  appear  on  its 
behalf,  and,  by  a  political  revolution,  overthrow  the  hated  foreign  domina- 
tion. The  fruits  of  repentance  and  faith  which  God  required,  were  still 
wanting.  As  the  vine-dresser,  Jesus  had  done  all  possible  to  win  them 
to  a  better  frame.  He  had  warned,  besought,  counselled  ;  but  they  were 
wedded  to  their  sins  and  their  sinful  pride.  His  peaceful  kingdom  offered 
them  the  only  escape  from  ruin,  here  and  hereafter  ;  but,  as  a  nation,  they 
were  more  and  more  leaning  towards  the  worldly  schemes  of  tlieir  eccle- 
siastical leaders,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  proposals  of  spiritual  self- 
reform.  Continuance  in  this  course  would  bring  the  fate  of  those  they 
now  lamented  on  the  whole  race.  If  they  rejected  Him,  God  would  ere- 
long destroy  them  as  a  people." 


DARK  AND   BRIGHT.  463 

There  was  still  another  matter  agitating  all  minds,  and  helping  to  keep 
up  the  volcanic  excitement  of  the  country.  John  lay  a  prisoner  in  the 
black  fortress  of  Machaerus,  almost  within  sight,  and  each  day  men  won- 
dered if  Antipas  had  yet  dared  to  put  him  to  death. 

Under  any  circumstances,  the  crowds  following  Jesus  would  have 
touched  a  heart  so  tender  ;  but  their  wild  despair  and  religious  enthusiasm 
made  the  sight  of  them  doubly  affecting.  Might  they  not  be  won  to  the 
peace  and  joy  of  the  glad  tidings  ?  They  seemed  to  Him,  the  Good 
Shepherd,  like  a  great  flock  needing  many  shepherds,  but  with  none ; 
footsore  with  long  travel,  wandering  they  knew  not  whither,  with  no  one 
to  lead  them  to  the  still  waters  and  green  pastures.  "  The  harvest,"  said 
He  to  His  disciples,  "  is  plenteous,  but  the  labourers  are  few ;  pray  ye, 
therefore,  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that  He  will  send  forth  labourers  into 
His  harvest."  There  were  multitudes  to  be  won  for  the  ISTew  Kingdom — 
multitudes  prepared  to  hear  ;  for  their  spirits  were  broken  under  personal 
and  national  sorrow.     But  the  number  of  right  teachers  was  small. 

He  decided,  therefore,  to  delay  no  longer  sending  forth  the  Twelve. 
Calling  them  together,  He  told  them  His  purpose,  and  fitted  them  to 
carry  it  out.  As  a  proof  of  their  mission  from  Him,  He  invested  them 
with  authority  over  spirits,  and  gave  them  power  to  heal  diseases.  They 
were  to  confine  themselves  for  the  present  to  Jewish  districts,  avoiding 
Samaritan  towns,  and  not  turning  their  faces  to  heathen  parts.  Galilee 
itself  was  thus  virtually  their  field  of  labour,  for  idolatry  had  a  footing  in 
every  place  round  it,  and  within  a  few  miles  of  thein  lay  Gadara,  Hippos, 
Pella,  Scythopolis,  and  even  Sepphoris,  with  heathen  worship  in  their 
midst.  Judea  and  Jerusalem  were  not  to  be  thought  of.  The  simple 
Galilfeans  would  be  a  better  beginning  for  the  Apostles  than  the  dark 
bigoted  population  of  the  south.  One  day  they  would  be  free  to  visit 
Samaria,  as  He  Himself  had  done  already.  Meanwhile  they  must  not  stir 
up  Jewish  hatred  l^y  going  to  either  Samaritans  or  heathen.  Moreover, 
their  Jewish  prejudices  unfitted  them  for  a  mission  to  any  but  Jews,  for 
even  after  this,  the  first  signs  of  hostility  made  John  wish  to  call  down 
fire  from  heaven  on  a  Saiuaritan  village,  and  they  could  not  as  yet  handle 
aright  the  many  questions  such  a  journey  would  elicit.  Besides,  Israel 
must  have  another  year  in  which  to  bring  forth  fruit ;  and  withal,  it  was 
their  first  independent  journey. 

The  burden  of  their  preaching  was  to  be  the  repetition  of  that  of  John, 
and  of  the  earlier  ministry  of  Jesus  Himself.  "  The  Kingdoin  of  Heaven 
is  at  hand."  Like  John,  they  were  heralds,  to  prepare  the  way.  They 
were  to  "  Heal  the  sick,  raise  the  dead,  cleanse  lepers,  cast  out  demons." 
They  had  received  their  miraculous  gifts  freely,  and  must  dispense  them 
as  freely.  Their  equipment  was  to  be  of  the  simplest,  for  superfluity 
would  divert  the  mind  from  their  great  object,  and  give  extra  trouble, 
which  would  only  hinder  them  on  their  journeys.  It  became  them,  also, 
by  their  humble  guise,  to  disarm  the  suspicion  of  worldliness,  and  to  show 
their  implicit  trust  in  God.  They  were  to  take  no  money,  not  even  any 
copper  coin,  in  their  girdles,  the  usual  Eastern  purse ;  nor  a  wallet  for 
their  food  by  the  way;  nor  two  under-garments,  but  were  to  wear  only 


464  THE  LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

one  ;  nor  were  thoy  to  have  slioes,  which  looked  like  luxury,  but  only  tlio 
sandals  of  the  common  people,  and  they  were  to  have  only  one  staff.  They 
were  to  trust  to  hospitality  for  food  and  shelter,  as  the  peasants  of 
Palestine  often  do  even  now ;  offering  in  their  simplicity  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  flowing  rol)es  and  bright  colours  of  the  population  at  large. 
But  they  were  not  to  go  alone.  Each  must  have  a  companion,  to  accustom 
them  to  brotherly  communion,  to  give  counsel  and  help  to  each  other  in 
difficulties,  and  to  cheer  each  other  on  the  way.  We  may  fancy  that  Peter 
was  sent  with  Andrew,  James  with  John,  Philip  with  Bartholomew,  the 
grave  Thomas  with  the  practical  Matthew,  James  the  Small  with  Judas 
the  Brave-hearted,  and  Simon  the  Zealot  with  Judas  Tscariot ;  the  brother 
with  the  brother ;  the  friend  with  the  friend ;  the  zealous  with  the  cold. 

No  mention  is  made  of  the  synagogues  in  their  instructions ;  it  may  be 
because  the  Apostles  were  not  yet  confident  enough  to  come  forward  so 
publicly.  It  was  to  be  a  hoii^se  to  house  mission.  While  every  traveller, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the'  country,  greeted  his  acquaintances  with 
laborious  formality,  raising  the  hand  from  the  heart  to  the  forehead,  and 
then  laying  it  in  the  right  hand  of  the  person  met ;  bowing  thrice,  or  even 
as  many  as  seven  times,  according  to  circumstances ;  they  were  forbidden 
to  indulge  in  any  greetings  by  the  way.  Time  was  too  precious,  and  their 
mission  too  earnest,  for  empty  courtesies.  On  entering  a  town  or  village, 
they  were  to  make  inquiries,  and  thus  avoid  seeking  hospitality  from  the 
unworthy;  bnt  having  once  become  guests,  they  were  to  stay  in  the  same 
family  till  they  left  the  place.  They  were  to  enter  the  dwelling  which 
heartily  welcomed  them,  with  a  prayer  for  its  peace.  Any  house  or  city, 
however,  that  refused  to  receive  them,  was  to  be  treated  openly  as  heathen, 
by  shaking  off  its  dust  from  their  feet  as  they  left  it.  But  woe  to  such  as 
brought  down  this  wrath ;  it  would  be  better  at  the  last  day  for  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  than  for  the  Galilgean  village,  in  such  a  case  ! 

To  these  directions  for  the  way,  Jesus  added  warnings  that  might  have 
well  filled  with  dismay  men  less  devoted.  He  predicted  for  them  only 
persecution  and  universal  hati'ed,  jails,  public  whipping,  and  even  death, 
but  cheered  them  by  the  promise  that  their  brave  and  faithful  confession 
of  faith  in  Him,  before  governors  and  kings,  would  serve  His  cause,  and 
that  endurance  to  the  end  would  secure  their  eternal  salvation.  They 
would  be  like  helpless  sheep  in  the  midst  of  treacherous  wolves.  Even 
their  work  would  be  different  from  what  they  might  expect.  To-day  it 
was  an  olive-branch  ;  to-morrow  it  would  be  a  sword.  Instead  of  peace,  it 
would  divide  households  and  communities,  and  turn  the  closest  relations 
into  deadly  enemies.  They  would  need  to  labour  diligently,  for  before 
they  had  gone  over  all  the  towns  of  Israel,  He  Himself  would  come  to 
their  aid  as  the  risen  and  glorified  Messiah.  They  might  expect  slander, 
for  He  Himself  had  been  charged  with  being  in  league  with  the  devil,  and 
they  could  not  hope  to  fare  better.  They  were,  however,  to  be  stout  of 
heart,  for  the  Providence  that  watches  the  birds  of  the  air  would  keep 
them  safe.  He  had  nothing  to  offer  in  this  world,  but  if  they  confessed 
Him  here  He  would  confess  them,  in  the  great  day,  before  His  Father. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  they  denied  Him,  He  would,  on  that  day,  deny  them. 


DARK  AND   BRIGHT.  465 

He  frankly  demanded  a  loyalty  so  supreme  aud  undivided,  that  the  most 
sacred  claims  of  blood  were  to  be  subordinated  to  it.  Instead  of  receiving 
honours,  He  told  them  that  they  might  expect  to  be  crucified,  as  He  would 
be.  To  save  this  life  by  denying  Him  would  be  to  lose  the  life  to  come  ; 
but  to  lose  it  by  fidelity  to  Him,  was  to  find  life  eternal.  Amidst  all  this 
dark  anticipation,  they  need  not  fear  for  their  bodily  wants,  for  the  greater 
the  danger  braved,  the  greater  woxild  be  the  reward  in  His  kingdom,  to 
those  who  showed  them  favour,  and  this  would  always  secure  them 
friends. 

Such  an  address,  under  such  circumstances,  was  assuredly  never  given 
before  or  since.  To  propose  to  found  a  kingdom  by  the  services  of  men, 
who,  as  their  reward,  Avould  meet  only  shame,  torture,  and  death ;  to  claim 
from  them  an  absolute  devotion,  from  mere  personal  reverence  and  love, 
with  no  prospects  of  reward  except  those  of  another  world  ;  and  despite 
of  the  opposition  of  all  the  authority  of  the  day,  to  launch  an  enterprise, 
thus  supported  only  by  moral  influences,  simply  that  men  might  be  won 
to  righteousness  by  the  display  of  pure,  unselfish  devotion  to  their  good, 
astounds  us  by  the  sublime  grandeur  of  the  conception. 

1^0  details  are  given  of  the  mission,  except  that  the  Twelve  went  on  a 
lengthened  circuit  through  the  towns  and  villages  of  Galilee,  preaching 
the  need  of  repentance,  and  the  glad  tidings  of  the  IsTew  Kingdom  ;  and 
that  their  ministry  was  accompanied  by  miraculous  works  of  mercy — the 
casting  out  devils,  and  the  anointing  with  oil  many  sick,  and  healing 
them — which  were  themselves  proofs  of  their  higher  success,  since  such 
wonders  were,  doubtless,  as  in  the  case  of  their  Master,  wrought  only 
when  there  was  a  measure  of  faith. 

How  long  this  mission  lasted  is  uncertain.  It  may  have  embraced 
weeks,  or  have  extended  over  months,  though,  as  the  first  journey  of  the 
Twelve,  alone,  it  is  not  likely  to  have  been  very  protracted.  The  success 
must  have  been  unusual,  for,  as  they  appeared,  two  by  two,  in  the  villages 
of  Galilee,  the  name  of  Jesus  was  on  every  tongue,  and  penetrated  even 
the  gilded  saloons  of  the  hated  Roman  palace  of  Antipas,  at  Tiberias. 
Jesus,  Himself,  had  not  been  idle  while  His  follovfers  were  away,  for  their 
departure  was  the  signal  for  a  new,  solitary  journey,  to  preach  and  teach 
in  the  various  cities.  His  name  was  thus  spread  abroad  everywhere,  and 
His  claims  and  character  discussed  by  all.  He  had  been  nearly  two  years 
before  the  world,  and  had  steadily  risen  in  jDopular  favour,  in  spite  of  the 
hierarchical  party.  His  claims  had  become  the  engrossing  topic  of  the 
day.  Hitherto  the  most  opposite  views  perplexed  all  alike.  More  than 
all  men,  Antipas  felt  his  eyes  irresistibly  fixed  on  Him,  for  his  conscience 
was  ill  at  ease.  He  had  at  last  put  John  to  death,  and,  true  to  his  super- 
stitious and  weak  nature,  concluded  that  Jesus  was  no  other  than  the 
murdered  Baptist  risen  from  the  dead,  clothed  with  the  awful  powers  of 
the  invisible  world.  Since  that  dear  head  had  fallen,  the  weak  and  crafty 
worldling  had  hoped  for  peace  and  security,  but  an  awful  echo  of  the 
voice  he  had  silenced  sounded  louder  and  more  terrible,  from  the  lips  of 
Jesus,  at  his  very  doors.  He  was  noAV  again  in  Tiberias,  and  the  wide 
dispersion  of  a  whole  baud  of  preachers  of  the  same  apparently  revolu- 

H  u 


468  •  THE  LIFE   OF  cmiiST. 

tionary  kingdom,  in  his  immediate  territory,  seemed  a  designed  defiance 
of  liis  violence  at  Machaerus,  and  its  counterstroke.  It  was  certain  tliat, 
when  he  gained  courage  enough,  he  would  try  to  repeat  the  murder  of  tho 
first  lorophet  by  that  of  the  second.  Suspicion  and  crafty  foresight  were 
his  characteristics.  Jesus  readily,  however,  learned  all  that  jiassed 
I'especting  Himself  in  the  palace,  for  He  had  followers  in  it,  such  as 
Johanna,  the  wife  of  Chuza,  and  Menahem,  the  foster-brother  of  the 
tetrarch,  and  He  was  on  His  guard. 

While  Antipas  thus  interpreted  the  rumours  respecting  Jesus,  others 
formed  an  opinion  hardly  more  acute  or  thoughtful,  who  took  Him  for  a 
second  Elijah.  John  and  that  prophet,  in  their  whole  spirit  and  work, 
were  men  devoted  to  tho  traditional  outward  theocracy:  men  who  looked 
to  the  past.  Jesus,  on  the  other  hand,  had  proclaimed,  even  in  His 
consecration-sermon  on  the  mount,  that  He  devoted  His  life  to  the  found- 
ing a  New  Covenant.  Their  opinion  was  nearer  the  truth  who  believed 
Him  a  prophet,  though  distance  threw  a  mysterious  glory  round  the  pro- 
phets of  the  past,  which  they  failed  to  realize  of  one  in  their  midst. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Jolm  seems  to  have  reached  Jesus  aboiit  tlie 
same  time  as  the  Apostles  I'eturned,  and  must  have  seemed  the  prediction 
of  His  own  fate.  The  prospect  of  the  Cross  had  been  before  His  mind  from 
the  first,  for  even  at  the  Jordan  He  had  been  announced  as  tho  Lamb  of 
God.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  had  struck  the  key-note  of  self-sacrifice, 
and  He  had  once  and  again  foretold,  more  or  less  clearly,  that  He  knew 
His  path  would  be  towards  a  violent  death.  It  was  inevitable  that  one 
whom  the  interest,  the  pride,  and  the  reputation  of  the  existing  ecclesias- 
tical authorities  combined  to  proscribe,  must  fall  before  their  hostility. 
Even  the  prophets,  as  a  rule,  had  suffered  violent  deaths,  though  their 
protest  against  the  corruption  of  their  day  involved  no  condemnation  of 
the  religious  economy  of  the  nation.  But  He  had  committed  Himself 
deliberately  to  principles  fatal  to  the  theocracy ;  for  He  had  violated  tra- 
dition, He  had  eaten  with  publicans,  and  He  had  denounced  the  leaders  of 
the  people  as  hypocrites,  Ijlind,  and  wicked.  It  was  a  life  and  death  matter 
for  the  hierarchical  party  to  try  to  quench  in  His  own  blood  the  fire  He 
had  kindled. 

The  meeting  with  the  Apostles  was  pei-haps  pre-arranged,  and  Jesus 
returned  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Capernaum,  or,  perhaps,  of  Tiberias,  to 
effect  it.  Ho  had  been  away  for  a  length  of  time,  and  His  absence  had 
evidently  been  deeply  felt,  for  multitudes  at  once  gathered  round  Him 
again,  as  soon  as  He  re-appeared.  Every  village,  far  and  near,  poured  out 
its  population  to  hear  Him  once  more,  and  the  throng  was  increased  by 
the  countless  passing  bands  of  pilgrims  to  the  Feast  at  Jerusalem,  for 
Passover  was  near  at  hand.  He  needed  rest,  and  there  was  much  to  hear 
from  the  Twelve,  but  it  was  impossible  to  have  either  the  rest  or  the  quiet 
intercourse  amidst  such  crowds.  They  had  no  leisure  even  to  eat.  It 
was,  moreover,  no  longer  safe  for  Him  to  be  in  the  territories  of  Antipas. 
Taking  the  Twelve  with  Him,  therefore.  He  crossed  over  to  the  tetrarchy 
of  Philip,  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  going  by  water,  and  landing  at  the  plain 
of  Batiha,  under  the  shadow  of  Bethsaida,  or  Juliasy  where  He  could  hope 


DARK   AND   IJIIIGHT.  467 

for  privacy,  and  secure  a  safe  retreat  iu  the  quiet  glens,  with  their  rich 
green  slopes,  passing  gradually  into  the  marshes  round  the  entrance  of 
the  Jordan  into  the  lake. 

But  it  was  vain  to  hope  for  escape.  Some  had  seen  Him  put  off,  and 
watched  the  direction  of  the  boat  till  they  saw  that  He  was  making  for 
Batiha,  which  was  known  as  one  of  His  resorts.  It  was  only  sis  miles 
across  the  water  from  Capernaum.  The  news  soon  spread,  and  crowds  of 
those  most  anxious  to  see  and  hear  Him  set  out  by  land  for  the  spot.  The 
distance  was  farther  than  by  water,  but  they  ran  afoot,  out  of  all  the  vil- 
lages, and  were  waiting  for  Him  when  He  arrived.  He  had  come  for  rest» 
but  it  was  denied  Him  now,  as  at  other  times.  Looking  up  as  the  boat 
touched  the  shore,  the  slopes  were  alive  with  multitudes,  who  showed 
by  their  very  presence,  that  they  felt  themselves  like  sheep  without  a 
shepherd.  The  evil  times,  the  restless  uneasiness  of  all,  the  high  religious 
excitement,  the  darkness  of  their  spiritual  condition,  and  the  deep  misery 
of  their  national  prospects,  combined  to  touch  His  soul  with  pity.  They 
had  brought  all  the  sick  who  could  be  carried,  or  who  could  come,  and  as 
He  passed  through  the  crowds  Ho  healed  them  Ijy  a  word  or  touch.  They 
had  greater  wants,  however,  than  bodily  healing,  and  He  could  not  let 
them  go  away  uncomforted.  Ascending  the  hill-side,  and  gathering  the 
vast  throng  before  Him,  He  "  spake  unto  them  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and 
taught  them  many  things." 

The  day  was  spent  in  this  arduous  labour,  but  the  people  still  lingered. 
They  had  been  fed  with  the  bread  of  truth,  and  seemed  indifferent,  for  the 
time,  to  anything  besides.  Poor  shcpherdlcss  sheejo ;  it  was  His  delight, 
as  the  Good  Shepherd,  to  lead  them  to  rich  pastures,  and  as  they  sat  and 
stood  round  Him,  they  forgot  their  bodily  wants  in  the  beauty  and  power 
of  His  words. 

It  was  now  towards  evening,  and  the  company  showed  no  signs  of  dis- 
persing. Food  could  not  be  had  in  that  lonely  place,  and  the  Twelve, 
afraid  on  this  and  perhaps  other  grounds,  anxiously  urged  Jesus  to  send 
them  away,  that  they  might  buy  bread  in  the  country  round.  To  their 
astonishment,  however.  Ho  told  them  that  the  crowd  must  be  fed ;  it  would 
never  do  to  dismiss  them  hungry ;  they  might  faint  by  the  way.  No 
more  impossible  a  request  could  have  been  made.  Between  thirty  and 
forty  pounds'  worth  of  bread,  at  the  value  of  money  in  those  days,  would 
be  needed  to  give  each  an  insufficient  share.  The  Apostles  could  not 
understand  Him.  Andrew,  pei-haps  the  provider  for  the  band,  could  only 
demonstrate  their  helplessness  by  saying  that  the  lad  in  attendance  on 
them  had  no  naore  than  five  loaves  of  common  barley  bread — the  food  of 
the  poor — and  two  small  fishes,  but  what,  he  added,  were  they  among  so 
many  ? 

"  Make  the  men  sit  down,"  said  Jesus.  It  was  in  Nisan,  "  the  month  of 
flowers,"  and  the  slopes  were  rich  with  the  soft  green  of  the  spring  grass 
— that  simplest  and  most  touching  lesson  of  the  care  of  God  for  all  nature. 
The  Twelve  presently  divided  the  vast  multitude  into  companies  of  fifties 
and  hundreds,  reminding  St.  Peter,  long  after,  from  the  bi'ight  colours  of 
their  Eastern  dresses,  of  the  flower-beds  of  a  great  garden. 


468  THE   LIFE    OF   CUEIST. 

This  done,  like  the  great  Father  of  the  far-stretching  household,  Jcsua 
took  the  bread  and  the  fishes,  and  looking  up  to  Heaven,  invoked  the 
blessing  of  God  on  their  use,  and  giving  thanks  for  them,  as  was  custom- 
ary before  all  meals,  proceeded  to  hand  portions  to  the  disciples,  Avho,  in 
turn,  gave  them  to  the  crowd.  Elisha  had  once  fed  a  hundred  men  with 
twenty  loaves,  and  increased  the  oil  in  the  widow's  cruse,  and  Elijah  had 
made  the  meal  and  the  oil  of  the  widow  of  Sarcpta  endure  till  the  Lord 
sent  rain  on  the  earth.  But  Christ,  from  five  loaves  and  two  small  fishes, 
not  only  satisfied  the  hunger  of  five  thousand  men,  besides  women  and 
children,  but  did  it  so  royally  that  the  fragments  that  remained  were 
enough  to  fill  twelve  of  the  little  baskets  in  which  Passover  pilgrims  and 
other  Jews  were  wont  to  carry  their  provisions  for  the  way.  More  was 
left  than  there  had  been  at  first ! 

Jesus  had  thus  supplied  the  wants  of  the  needy,  in  a  way  the  full  signi- 
ficance of  which  was  as  yet  far  beyond  what  the  disciples  either  under- 
stood or  dreamed,  for  He  had  shown  how  there  dwelt  in  Him  a  virtue 
sufiicicnt  to  meet  all  higlier  wants,  as  well  as  the  lower,  so  that  none  who 
believed  in  Him  would  ever  have  either  hunger  or  thirst  of  soul  any  longer, 
but  would  find  in  Him  their  all.  Had  they  known  it.  He  had  shown  them 
that  He  Himself  was  the  Bread  of  Life,  that  came  down  from  Heaven. 
But  they  at  least  know  how  much  they  came  short  of  a  lofty  faith,  which, 
in  loving  trust,  despairs  least  when  the  need  is  greatest,  and  in  the 
strength  of  which  all  is  doubled  by  joyful  imparting,  while  abundance 
remains  instead  of  want. 

The  effect  on  the  multitude  was  in  keeping  with  the  ideas  of  the  time. 
Murmurs  ran  tlu'ough  the  excited  throng,  that  Jesus  must  be  the  expected 
prophet— the  Messiah.  Like  Moses,  He  had  fed  Israel  by  a  miracle,  in 
the  wilderness,  which  the  Ealjbis  said  the  Messiah  would  do.  Surely  He 
would  manifest  Himself  now,  if  they  put  Him  at  their  head  ?  They  had 
no  higher  idea  of  the  Messianic  kingdom  than  the  outward  and  political, 
and  would  hasten  its  advent  by  forcing  Him,  if  possible,  to  proclaim  Him- 
self King,  and  thus  open  the  longed-for  war  with  the  hated  Eomans,  in 
which  God  would  ajipear  on  their  behalf. 

Material  power,  not  moral  preparation,  was  the  national  conception  of 
the  path  to  the  Messianic  triumph.  The  Rabbis  and  the  people  had  de- 
cided for  themselves  the  way  in  which  the  salvation  of  Israel  was  to  show 
itself,  but  between  their  views  and  those  of  Jesus  there  was  a  great  gulf. 
He  Avould  not  use  force,  and  they  were  bent  on  it.  His  refusal  to  carry 
out  their  plan  made  opposition  inevitable,  and  it  necessarily  grew  deeper 
each  day  as  that  refusal  became  more  clearly  final. 

While  visions  of  national  splendour  dazzled  the  thoughts  of  his  country- 
men, the  ideal  of  greatness  for  Himself  and  them  lay,  with  Jesus,  in 
humiliation.  His  path  was  in  the  lowly  valleys,  not  on  the  high  places  of 
the  earth.  He  aimed  only  to  find  the  humble  and  needy,  to  seek  the  lost, 
to  serve  rather  than  to  be  served.  Hiding  His  glory  in  outward  lowliness, 
and  never  seeking  honour  from  men.  He  had,  throughout,  identified  His 
will  with  that  of  God,  with  a  self-restraint  which  showed  the  grandest 
force  of  will.     The  outward  and  material  were  indifferent  to  Him,  and 


DAEK  AND   BRIGHT.  469 

utterly  opposed  to  the  Divine  purpose,  if  made  an  aim  in  connection  with 
His  work.  The  reign  of  God  in  His  own  soul  was  the  perfect  realization 
of  the  only  kingdom  He  sought  to  found  in  the  souls  of  men  at  large,  and 
it  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  vulgar  parade  of  an  earthly  royalty. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  He  perceived  the  design  of  the  crowd  to  force 
Him  to  act  as  their  leader,  and  to  instal  Him  at  Jerusalem  at  the  head  of 
a  national  insurrection.  He  hurriedly  left  them,  and  went  into  the  bosom 
of  the  hills,  beyond  their  reach.  But  His  having  declined  to  be  led  by 
them  to  the  throne  of  David,  in  their  way,  was,  in  reality,  a  step  towards 
the  Cross.  The  very  proposal  was  a  fore-shadowing  of  His  final  rejection 
and  violent  death.  The  solitude  of  the  mountains  was  His  fittest  retreat, 
to  strengthen  Himself  against  this  new  assault  of  the  temptation  He  had 
so  often  repelled,  and  to  gird  up  His  soul  for  the  trials  that  lay  in  His 
path. 

At  the  first  signs  of  tumult  among  the  people.  He  had  sent  off  the 
Twelve  to  cross  the  lake  again  at  once,  to  the  Bethsaida  near  Capernaum, 
while  He  dismissed  the  multitudes.  They  had  waited  for  Him  till  night 
fell,  Init,  at  last,  as  He  did  not  come,  they  set  off  without  Him.  As  they 
rowed,  however,  a  sudden  squall,  blowing  every  way,  struck  down  on  the 
lake  from  the  hills  around,  and  caught  their  boat.  It  was  the  last  watch 
of  the  night— between  three  and  six  o'clock  in  the  wild  morning,  and  the 
weary  boatmen  had  been  toiling  at  their  oars  through  the  long  night,  but 
though  the  whole  distance  to  be  rowed  was  only  six  miles,  a  third  of  the 
way  was  still  before  them.  Jesus  was  not  with  them  to  still  the  wind,  and 
their  own  strength  and  skill  had  availed  little.  But  suddenly,  close  to 
the  boat,  they  saw  through  the  gleam  of  the  water  and  the  broken  light  of 
the  stars,  a  human  form  walking  on  the  sea.  The  sight,  which  would 
have  troubled  men  less  superstitious  than  simple  fishermen,  made  them 
cry  out  in  their  terror.  But  it  was  only  momentary,  for  close  at  hand,  so 
that  it  was  heard  above  the  wind  and  the  waves,  came  the  words,  "  Be  of 
good  cheer ;  it  is  I :  be  not  afraid,"  in  a  voice  which  they  knew  was  that 
of  Jesus.  Always  impulsive,  the  warm-hearted  Peter  could  not  wait  till 
the  Delivei'er  came  among  them.  "  Would  not  his  Master  suffer  him  to 
come  to  Him  on  the  water  ?  "  Then  followed  that  touching  incident 
which  has  supplied  a  lesson  for  all  ages;  the  safe  footing  on  the  waves 
while  the  Apostle  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  Lord,  and  the  instant  sinking 
Avhen  his  faith  gave  away — an  image  of  his  whole  nature,  and  of  all  his 
future  life.  But  the  saving  hand  was  near,  and  with  the  gentle  rebuke, 
"  O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?  "  they  were  in  the 
boat,  and  as  they  entered,  the  wind  ceased,  so  that,  presently,  with  easy 
sweeps,  their  oars  carried  them  to  the  shore. 

Like  the  mass  of  men,  the  Twelve  vrere  slow  at  reasoning,  or  applying 
broadly  the  plainest  lesson.  Had  they  realized  the  greatness  of  the 
miracle  they  had  seen  the  day  before,  even  the  walking  on  the  sea,  and  the 
calming  of  the  wind,  would  have  seemed  only  what  they  might  have  ex- 
pected. But  their  minds  were  dull  and  unreflecting,  and  their  amazement 
knew  no  bounds.  It  is  the  characteristic  of  the  uneducated,  that  they 
think  without  continuity,  and  forthwith  relapse  into   stolid  listlessness 


470  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

after  the  strongest  excitement.  The  miracle  of  the  loaves  had  ceased  to 
be  a  wonder,  for  it  was  some  hours  old.  But  this  new  illustration  of  the 
superhuman  power  of  their  Master  was  so  transcendent,  that  their  wonder 
passed  into  worship.  The  impression,  like  many  before,  might  soon  lose 
its  force;  but  for  the'moment  they  were  so  awed  that,  approaching  Him, 
they  kneeled  in  lowliest  reverence,  and,  through  Peter,  ever  their  spokes- 
man, paid  Him  homage  in  words  then  first  heard  from  human  lips—"  Of 
a  truth  Thou  ai't  the  Son  of  God." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE    TTJUN   OF   THE   DAT. 

WHEN  day  broke  on  the  scene  of  the  miraculous  meal  of  the  evening 
before,  a  nuiiiber  who  had  slept  in  the  open  air,  throiigh  the  warm 
spring  night,  still  remained  on  the  spot.  They  had  noticed  that  Jesus  did 
not  cross  with  the  Twelve,  and  fancied  that  He  was  still  on  their  side  of 
the  lake.  Meanwhile,  a  number  of  the  boats  which  usually  carried  over 
wood  or  other  commodities,  from  these  eastern  districts,  had  come  from 
Tiberias  ;  blown  roughly  on  their  way  by  the  same  wind  that  had  been 
against  the  disciples.  In  these,  many,  finding  that  Jesus  had  left  the  neigh- 
bourhood, took  passage,  and  came  to  Capernaum,  seeking  for  Him.  It 
was  one  of  the  daj's  of  synagogue  worship — Monday  or  Thursday— and 
they  met  Him  on  His  way  to  the  synagogue,  to  which  they,  forthwith, 
eagerly  pressed.  Excitement  was  at  its  height.  News  of  His  arrival  had 
spread  far  and  near,,  and  His  way  was  hindered  by  crowds,  who  had,  as 
usual,  brought  their  sick  to  the  streets  through  which  He  was  passing,  in 
hope  of  His  healing  them. 

The  incidents  of  the  preceding  day  might  well  have  raised  desires  for 
the  higher  spiritual  food  which  even  the  Rabbis  taught  them  to  expect 
from  the  Messiah.  But  they  felt  nothing  higher  than  vulgar  wonder,  and 
came  after  Jesus  in  hopes  of  further  advantages  of  the  same  kind,  and, 
above  all,  that  they  would  still  find  in  Hun  a  second  Judas  the  Gaulonite, 
to  lead  them  against  the  Romans.  A  few,  doubtless,  had  worthier  thoughts  ; 
bnt,  with  the  mass,  the  Messiah's  earthly  kingdom  was  to  be  as  gross  as 
Mahomet's  paradise.  They  were  to  be  gathered  together  into  the  garden  of 
Eden,  to  eat  and  drink,  and  satisfy  themselves  all  their  days,  with  houses 
of  precious  stones,  beds  of  silk,  and  rivers  flowing  with  wine  and  spicy 
oil.  It  was  that  He  might  gain  this  for  them  that  they  had  wished  to 
set  Him  up  as  king. 

Feeling  how  utterly  He  and  they  were  at  variance,  Jesus  resolved  to 
enter  into  no  irrelevant  conversation  with  them,  and  waiving  aside  a 
question  as  to  His  crossing  the  lake,  at  once  pointed  out  their  misappren- 
hension  respecting  Himself,  and  urged  them  not  to  set  their  hearts  on  the 
perishable  food  of  the  body,  but  to  seek  earnestly  for  that  food  of  the  soul 
which  secures  eternal  life.  So  long  as  they  did  not  crave  this  beyond  all 
things  else,  they  missed  their  highest  advantage.      As  the  Son  of  man 


THE   TURN   OF    THE   DAY.  471 

— the  Messiah— accredited  from  God  the  Ftvther  by  His  wondrous  works, 
He  was  apppinted  to  give  them  this  heavenly  food,  and  would  do  so  if 
they  showed  a  sincere  desire  for  it  by  becoming  His  disciples. 

The  Eabbis  were  accustomed  to  teach  by  metaphors,  and  the  people  saw 
at  once  that  He  alluded  to  some  religious  duty.  What  it  was,  however, 
they  did  not  understand,  but  fancied  He  referred  to  some  special  works 
appointed  by  God.  As  Jews,  they  had  been  ijainfuUy  keeping  all  the 
Eabbinical  precepts,  to  secure  so  much  the  richer  an  inheritance  under 
the  Messiah.  Yet,  if  Jesus  had  some  additional  injunctions,  they  were 
willing  to  add  them  to  the  rest,  that  they  might  still  further  strengthen 
their  claim  for  favour  in  the  New  Kingdom  of  God.  But,  instead  of  multi- 
plied observances,  He  startled  them  by  announcing  that  citizenship  in  the 
K'ew  Theocracy  required  no  more  than  their  believing  in  Him,  as  sent 
from  the  Father.  In  this  lay  all,  for  the  manifold  "  works  of  God  "  would 
spring  naturally  from  it. 

Those  of  the  crowd  around  who  had  not  seen  the  miracle  of  the  previous 
day  had,  doubtless,  ere  this,  heard  of  it.  It  had  been  an  amazing  proof  of 
supernatural  power,  but  their  craving  for  wonders  demanded  something 
still  more  astounding,  as  a  justification  of  Christ's  claim  to  be  "the  Sent 
of  the  Father."  A  voice,  perhaps  that  of  some  open  opponent — for  the 
Eabbis  had  taken  cai*e  to  be  present — therefore  broke  in,  apparently  hal  f 
mocking,  with  the  question,  "  What  '  sign '  He  had  to  show,  tliat  they 
might  see  it,  and  believe  Him  ?  Moses  proved  his  authority  by  stupendous 
'signs.'  What  sign  worthy  the  name  do  you  show,  to  prove  j'our  right  to 
introduce  new  laws,  in  addition  to  his,  or  in  their  room?  Our  fathers  ate 
manna  in  the  wilderness,  as  it  is  written,  'He  gave  them  bread  from 
heaven  to  eat.'     What  voucher  as  great  as  this  do  you  offer  ?  " 

The  miracle  of  the  manna  had  become  a  subject  of  the  ]3roudest  remem- 
brances and  fondest  legends  of  the  nation.  '•  God,"  says  the  Talmud,  "made 
manna  to  descend  for  them,  in  which  Avere  all  manner  of  tastes.  Every 
Israelite  found  in  it  what  best  pleased  him.  The  young  tasted  bread,  the 
old  honey,  and  the  children  oil."  It  had  even  become  a  fixed  belief  that 
the  Messiah,  when  He  came,  would  signalize  His  advent  by  a  repetition 
of  this  stupendous  wonder.  "  As  the  first  Saviour — the  deliverer  from 
Egyptian  bondage,"  said  the  Eabbis,  "caused  manna  to  fall  for  Israel  from 
heaven,  so  the  second  Saviour — the  Messiah — will  also  cause  manna  to 
descend  for  them  once  more,  for  it  is  written,  '  There  will  be  abundance 
of  corn  in  the  land.' "  Moses  had  gradually  been  half  deified.  It  was 
taught  that  God  counted  him  of  as  mucli  value  as  all  Israel.  Most  be- 
lieved that  he  was  five  grades  in  knowledge  above  all  creatures,  even 
angels.  The  lower  part  of  the  body  was  human  ;  the  upper  Divine.  On 
his  entrance  to  paradise,  God  left  the  upper  heavens  and  came  to  him, 
and  the  angels  also  came  and  ministered  to  him,  and  sang  hymns  before 
him.  Even  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  came,  and  craved  liberty 
from  him  to  shine  on  the  world,  which  they  could  not  have  done  had  he 
refused. 

It  was  thus  only  an  expression  of  the  public  feeling  of  the  day  when 
Jesus  was  asked  to  repeat  the  descent  of  manna — the  greatest  of  the 


472  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

miracles  of  Moses.  It  is  in  Imman  nature,  but  above  all,  in  Eastern 
human  nature,  to  associate  high  office  and  dignity  with  display  and  out- 
ward circumstance,  and  hence  what  must  have  been  the  popular  expecta- 
tions of  external  grandeur  and  majesty  in  the  Messiah,  when  they  saw 
a  demigod  in  Moses,  Avhom  Ho  was  to  resemble  ?  ISTo  demand  for  over- 
powering "  signs  "  of  the  Divine  ajoproval  of  a  claim  to  be  the  Messiah 
could,  in  this  point  of  view,  be  too  great,  from  One  whose  outward 
appearance,  and  Avliole  life,  in  other  respects,  so  entirely  contradicted 
the  general  Messianic  anticipations. 

But  Jesus,  at  all  times  resolute  in  withholding  miraculous  action  for 
any  personal  end,  had  no  thought  of  satisfying  their  craving  for  wonders. 
"  Moses  indeed,"  said  He,  "  gave  yon  manna,  but  it  was  not  the  true  Bread 
of  Heaven."  He  wished  to  draw  them  from  the  merely  outward  miracle 
to  that  far  higher  marvel,  even  then  enacting  before  their  eyes,  the  free 
offer  of  the  true  Bread  of  Heaven,  in  the  offer  of  Himself  as  their  Saviour. 
The  manna,  He  implied,  could  only  by  a  figure  be  called  bread  of  heaven, 
for  it  was  material  and  perishable,  and  the  heaven  from  which  it  fell  was 
only  the  visible  sky,  not  that  in  which  God  dwells.  Moses  gave  what  was 
called  by  a  figure,  "  Bread  of  Heaven,"  but  the  true  Bread  of  Heaven  only 
His  Father  could  give,  and  He  was  giving  it  now.  That  alone  can  be 
the  true  Bread  of  God,  which  comes  down  from  the  highest  heaven — He 
might  have  said,  from  the  pure  heaven  of  His  own  soul — and  gives  life 
to  the  world ;  for  with  Jesus,  those  who  had  not  this  bread  were  spiri- 
tually dead. 

"Master,"  cried  many  voices,  "give  us  this  bread  henceforth,  for  life." 
Like  Ponce  de  Leon,  with  the  spring  of  Unfading  Youth,  in  Florida,  they 
thought  that  the  new  gift  would  literally  make  them  immortal,  and  eagerly 
clamoured  to  have  a  boon  so  far  in  advance  of  the  mere  barley  loaves  of 
the  day  before. 

"  I  am  the  Bread  of  Life,"  replied  Jesus  ;  in  a  moment  scattering  to  the 
winds  their  visions  of  material  plenty  and  endless  natural  life.  Then, 
explaining  Himself,  He  added,  "  He  that  comes  to  me  shall  never  hunger, 
and  he  that  believes  on  me  shall  never  thirst.  But,  as  I  said  a  moment 
ago,  you.  have  not  only  heard  of  me,  but  have  also  seen  me,  and  been  eye- 
witnesses of  my  deeds  as  the  Messiah,  and  yet  you  do  not  believe.  All 
whom  the  Father  gives  me  will  come  to  me.  You  may  resist  my  invita- 
tions or  yield,  but  he  who  resists  is  not  given  me  by  my  Father.  Believe 
me  no  hungei-ing  and  thirsting  soul  that  comes  to  me  will  I  cast  out  of 
my  Kingdom  when  it  is  erected.  How  could  I,  indeed,  when  I  have  come 
down  from  heaven,  not  to  act  on  my  own  human  will,  but  only  to  carry 
out  the  will  of  my  Father  in  Heaven,  which  is,  in  this  matter,  that  of  all 
whom  He  has  given  me — not  Jews  alone,  but  all,  without  exception — I 
should  lose  none,  but  should  raise  them  up  at  the  last  day ;  or,  in  other 
words,  should  give  them  eternal  life." 

These  words,  spoken  in  the  synagogue  at  Capernaum,  created  a  gi'eat 
sensation.  The  congregation,  comprising  some  Eabbis  and  other  enemies, 
had,  from  time  to  time,  in  Jewish  fashion,  freely  expressed  their  feelings, 
and  had  taken  such  offence  at  His  claim  to  be  the  Bread  that  came  down 


THE    TUEN   OF   THE   DAT.  473 

from  hoavon,  that  their  whispers  and  murmui^  now  ran  through  the  whole 
bnikling.  "  How  can  He  say  He  has  come  down  from  heaven  ?  We  know 
His  father  and  mother.  He  is  from  ISTazaveth,  and  wouUl  have  vis  believe 
He  is  from  God  above.  He  is  mad.  He  has  a  devil.  When  the  Messiah, 
comes,  no  one  will  know  whence  He  is." 

"  Do  not  murmur  among  yourselves,"  said  Jesus.  "  Natural  sense  is 
worth  nothing  in  this  matter ;  it  will  never  help  you  to  understand  how 
I  am  tlie  True  Bread  come  down  from  heaven.  If  you  wish  to  know  how 
I  can  say  so,  you  must  submit  yourselves  to  the  teaching  and  influence  of 
God:  must  hear  and  learn  what  God  says,  for  He  tells  us  in  the  prophets^ 
'  They  shall  be  all  taught  of  God.'  Only  those  thus  taught  come  to  me 
or  believe  in  mo.  The  yielding  your  souls  to  God,  and  your  rising  thus 
to  communion  with  Him  by  spiritual  oneness,  can  alone  lead  to  the  faith 
that  recognises  the  truth  respecting  me." 

"  Perhaps  you  think,"  He  continued,  to  paraphrase  His  words,  "  that  to 
hear  and  learn  of  God,  you  must  yourselves  see  Him,  or  commune  directly 
with  Him  !  If  so,  you  greatly  err.  To  see  God  immediately,  face  to  face, 
is  given  to  no  mortal  man,  buj  only  to  Him  who  is  from  God.  ISTo  one  but 
His  onlj'-begotten  Son,  who  was  in  heaven  and  has  come  down  thence, 
has  seen,  and  now  sees,  the  Father,  and  reveals  Him  to  man.  Him, 
therefore,  the  Son — that  is.  Me — must  you  hear;  from  Me  must  you  learn, 
if  you  would  hear  and  learn  from  God.  Amen,  amen,  I  say  to  you.  He 
that  believes  on  me  as,  thus,  the  '  Word '  and  Revealer  of  the  Father,  has 
everlasting  life.  I  myself  am,  as  such,  that  Bread  of  Life  of  which  I  have 
spoken.  Your  forefathers  ate  the  manna  which  Moses  gave  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  died ;  but  it  is  the  grand  virtue  of  the  true  Bread  of  Heaven,  that 
if  a  man  eat  of  it — that  is,  if  he  receive  my  words  into  his  soul — he  shall 
not  die,  but  shall  have  everlasting  life." 

"  I  am  not  only  the  Life-giving  Bread,"  He  added,  "  but  the  Living 
Bread,  and  as  all  that  is  living  communicates  life,  so  whoever  eats  this 
true  Bread  of  Heaven,  that  is,  whoever  believes  in  me,  shall  live  for  ever. 
As  the  Living  Bread  I  will  give  myself— my  flesh— that  is,  my  life— for 
the  life  of  the  world." 

He  pointed  thus — in  language  which  His  hearers  could  have  readily 
understood,  had  their  minds  not  been  blinded  by  opposite  preconceptions 
— to  His  death  as  the  "  Lamb  of  God,"  for  mankind.  This,  He  imi3lied, 
must  above  all  be  received,  to  secure  everlasting  life,  for  so,  only,  could 
His  claims  and  authority  be  felt.  He  would  give  His  life  for  the  spiritual 
life  of  men,  as  bread  is  given  for  their  bodily  life ;  the  one  to  be  taken 
by  the  soul,  the  other  by  the  body. 

The  idea  of  eating,  as  a  metaphor  for  receiving  sjoiritual  benefit,  was 
familiar  to  Clirist's  hearers,  and  was  as  readily  understood  as  our  expres- 
sions of  "  devouring  a  book,"  or  "  drinking  in  "  instruction.  In  Isaiah  iii. 
1,  the  words  "the  whole  stay  of  bread,"  were  explained  by  the  Eabbis 
as  referring  to  their  own  teaching,  and  they  laid  it  down  as  a  rule,  that 
wherever,  in  Ecclesiastes,  allusion  was  made  to  food  or  drink,  it  meant 
study  of  the  Law,  and  the  practice  of  good  works.  It  was  a  saying 
among  them — "  In  the  time  of  the  Messiah  the  Israelites  will  be  fed  by 


474 


THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 


Him."  NotLlng  was  more  common  in  the  schools  and  synagognes  than 
the  phrases  of  eating  and  drinking,  in  a  metaphorical  sense.  "  Messiah 
is  not  likely  to  come  to  Israel,"  said  Hillel,  "  for  they  have  already  eaten 
Him  " — that  is,  greedily  received  His  words—"  in  the  days  of  Hezekiah." 
A  current  conventionalism  in  the  synagogues  was  that  the  just  would 
"  eat  the  Shechinah."  It  was  peculiar  to  the  Jews  to  he  taught  in  such 
metaphorical  language.  Their  Kabbis  never  spoke  in  Tplain  words,  and  it 
is  expressly  said  that  Jesus  submitted  to  the  popular  taste,  for  "  without  a 
parable  spake  He  not  unto  them." 

But  nothing  blinds  the  mind  so  much  as  preconceived  ideas  ;  and  dreams 
of  national  glory  had  so  inseparably  associated  themselves  with  their  con- 
ception of  the  Messiah,  that  a  figure,  which  in  other  cases  would  have 
created  no  difficulty,  led  to  violent  discussion,  some  contending  for  the 
literal  sense,  which  they  held  as  a  self-contradiction,  others  favouring  a 
metaphorical  explanation. 

Instead,  however,  of  answering  the  eager  questions  which  now  rose, 
how  this  could  be,  Jesus — resolved  to  break  finally  with  the  gross  out- 
ward ideas  of  His  kingdom  which  prevailed — proceeded  to  carry  out  the 
paradox  further,  by  adding  that  they  must  not  only  eat  His  flesh,  but 
drink  His  blood — thus  intimating  still  more  clearly  His  violent  death  and 
its  mysterious  virtue  for  the  salvation  of  mankind,  as  He  was  hereafter  to 
do  still  more  vividly  hj  the  abiding  symbols  of  the  Last  Supper.  On  no 
other  condition  than  by  making  the  lessons  and  merits  of  that  death  their 
own,  could  they  have  ctei-nal  life,  or  be  raised  up  at  the  last  day.  Without 
this  they  were  spiritually  dead.  His  flesh  and  blood  were  true  spiritual 
food:  the  heavenly  bi'ead  of  the  soul,  the  nourishment  of  the  Divine  life 
within.  The  hearty  recognition  and  reception  of  this  great  truth  would 
create  an  abiding  and  intimate  communion  between  Him  and  those  who 
thus,  as  it  were,  fed  on  Him  as  their  inner  life.  Living  in  Him,  He  would 
live  and  reign  in  them.  ISTay,  as  a  further  result  of  this  intimate  spiritual 
union,  this  oneness  of  will  and  heart  with  Him,  Divine  life  would  go  forth 
from  Him  to  those  in  Avhom  He  found  it,  as  it  came  forth  to  Himself  from 
the  Father.  Then,  with  a  repetition  of  the  original  figure  of  His  being 
the  Bread  that  came  down  from  heaven — not  the  manna,  of  which  those 
who  ate  were  long  since  dead,  but  the  bread,  to  eat  which  gave  eternal 
life — He  closed  His  address. 

The  Baptist  had  spoken  of  the  fan  in  the  hand  of  his  great  successor : 
this  discourse  was  the  realization  of  the  figure.  Those  who  had  hoped  to 
find  a  popular  political  leader  in  Christ  saw  their  dreams  melt  away ; 
those  who  had  no  true  sympathy  for  His  life  and  words  had  an  excuse  for 
leaving  Him.  None  but  those  bound  to  Him  by  sincci-e  loyalty  and  devo- 
tion had  any  longer  a  motive  for  following  Him.  Fierce  j^atriotism  burning 
for  insurrection,  mean  self-iiaterest  seeking  worldly  advantage,  and  vulgar 
curiosity  craving  excitement,  were  equally  disappointed.  It  was  the  first 
vivid  instance  of  "  the  offence  of  the  Cross  " — henceforth  to  become  the 
special  stumbling-block  of  the  nation.  The  wishes  and  hopes  of  the 
crowds  who  had  called  themselves  disciples  had  proved  self-deceptions. 
They  expected  from  the  Messiah  quite  other  favours  than  the  identity  of 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    DAY.  475 

f  piritual  nature  symbolized  by  eating  His  flesh  and  drinking  His  blood. 
The  violent  death  implied  in  the  metaphor  was  in  dii-ect  contradiction  to 
all  their  ideas.  A  lowly  and  suffering  Messiah  thus  unmistakably  set 
Ijefore  them  was  revolting  to  their  national  pride  and  gross  material 
tastes.  "  We  have  heard  out  of  the  Law,"  said  some,  a  little  later,  "  that 
the  Christ  abidcth  for  ever,  and  how  sayest  thou,  the  Son  of  man  must  be 
'  lifted  up,' — that  is  crucified  ! "  "  That  be  far  from  Thee,  Lord ;  this  shall 
not  be  unto  Thee,"  said  even  Peter,  almost  at  the  last,  when  he  heard  of 
the  Cross,  so  near  at  hand,  from  his  Master's  lips.  The  Messiah  of  popular 
conception  would  use  force  to  establish  His  kingdom,  but  Jesus,  while 
claiming  the  Messiahship,  spoke  only  of  self-sacrifice.  Outward  glory  and 
material  wealth  were  the  national  dream ;  He  spoke  only  of  inward  purity. 
If  He  would  not  help  them  with  His  Almighty  power,  to  get  Judea  for  the 
nation,  they  would  not  have  Him,  Their  idea  of  the  kingdom  of  God  was 
the  exact  opposite  of  His. 

The  discourse  had  been  interrupted  in  its  progress,  and  now  at  its  close, 
the  murmuring  and  whispering  grew  more  earnest  than  ever.  "  This  is 
a  hard  saying,"  was  the  general  feeling,  "who  can  bear  it  ?"  "ISToono 
could  submit  to  such  self-denial,"  said  one.  "  I  don't  understand  it,"  sai  1 
another.  "  Blasphemy,"  said  a  third.  "  He  claims  to  be  God."  "  He  is 
not  the  ^Messiah  for  me,"  said  a  fourtli.  Jesus,  now  on  His  way  out  of  the 
synagogue,  noticed  all.  "Does  what  I  have  said  offend  you?"  said  He, 
"  If,  now,  while  I  am  with  you,  you  think  my  words  hard  and  stumble  at 
them,  what  will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  when  I  have  returned  to 
heaven,  whence  I  came,  you  will  still  have  to  eat  my  flesh  and  drink  my 
blood,  if  you  would  become  jDartakers  of  eternal  life  ?  Do  you  not  see 
from  this  that  I  speak  in  metaphor,  and  that  you  are  not  to  take  mj^  words 
literally,  but  in  their  spirit  and  inner  meaning  ?  It  is  not  my  flesh  you 
are  to  eat,  but  my  words,  which  you  have  just  heard.  These  you  must 
receive  into  your  hearts,  and  they  will  f|uicken  you  into  spiritual  life,  for 
they  are  spirit  and  life.  If  you  do  not  believe  on  me  as  the  true  Messiah, 
by  His  death  the  life  of  the  world ;  but  expect  only  a  national  salvation 
from  my  visible  bodily  presence,  as  one  who  will  live  on  earth  for  ever, 
and  reign  in  deathless  splendour,  you  must  find  what  I  have  said,  an 
offence.  But  he  who  desires  from  me,  as  the  Messiah,  only  the  hidden 
life  of  the  soul,  its  renewal  in  the  holy  image  of  God,  and  His  reign 
within,  will  find  no  offence  in  any  of  my  words.  The  truths  I  have  told 
you  are  spirit  and  life,  and  quicken  the  soul  that  receives  them  into  a 
heavenly  life,  as  bread  quickens  the  body.  My  mere  outward  natural  life, 
as  such,  profits  you  nothing.  If  my  words  have  been  hard  to  any,  it  is 
because  they  do  not  believe  in  me,  for  only  the  believing  heart  can  realize 
their  truth." 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  which  inaugurated  His  public  ministry, 
Jesus  had  contrasted  the  theocratic  forms  of  pupilage  and  the  letter,  with 
the  law  of  the  New  Kingdom  ;  a  law  of  the  spirit  and  of  liberty.  In  this 
address  to  the  people  He  contrasted  with  the  theocratic  life  in  its  mei'e 
outwardness  and  its  slavery  to  forms,  the  new  life  from  God  which  He 
made  known,  a  life  kindled  and  maintained  l)y  the  Spirit  from  above,  the 


47G  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

gift  of  the  Heavenly  Fatlier.  The  dead  letter,  the  outward  material  flesh, 
He  told  them,  profited  nothing  ;  the  form,  the  lite,  the  dogma,  the  institu- 
tion, however  venerable  in  itself — even  His  own  flesh,  as  the  symbol  of 
mere  material  life — had  no  magic  virtue.  Only  the  inward  essence,  the 
truth  embodied,  the  living  principle,  the  quickening  spirit  received  into 
the  heart,  availed  with  God,  or  sustained  the  heavenly  life  in  the  soul. 
The  life-giving  Spirit,  as  it  flows  from  the  infinite  fulness  of  God,  and 
reproduces  itself  in  the  heart,  was  the  true  manna  of  humanity  in  the 
wilderness  of  the  world. 

The  false  enthusiasm  which  had  hitherto  gathered  the  masses  round 
Jesus  was  henceforth  at  an  end,  now  that  their  worldly  hopes  of  Him  as 
the  Messiah  were  exploded.  His  discourse  had  finally  undeceived  them. 
He  was  founding  a  mysterious  spiritual  kingdom ;  they  only  cared  for  a 
kingdom  of  this  world.  It  became  for  the  first  time  clear  that  no  worldly 
rewards  or  honours  were  to  be  had  by  following  Him,  but  only  spiritual 
gifts  and  benefits,  for  which  most  of  them  cared  nothing.  They  wanted 
to  see  wonders,  to  eat  bread  from  heaven  that  would  protect  them  from 
dying,  and  to  get  places  and  wealth  in  the  new  kingdom  when  finally  set 
up.  They  had  looked  on  Jesus  more  as  a  miracle-worker  than  a  spiritual 
Saviour,  and  wished  to  be  healed  rather  bj^  touching  His  garments  than 
by  sympathy  and  communion  with  His  Spirit.  But  He  liad  come  to  save 
sinners,  not  to  work  mii'acles,  even  of  healing  ;  to  be  a  physician  of  souls, 
not  of  bodies.  He  had  disenchanted  the  insincere  and  selfish  who  had 
hitherto  flocked  after  Him,  and  they  forthwith  showed  their  altered  feel- 
ings. From  the  moment  of  this  address,  the  crowds  that  had  thronged 
Him  begaji  to  disappeai',  returning  to  their  homes,  doubtless  in  angry 
disappointment.  It  seemed  as  if  He  would  be  entirely  forsaken.  Could 
it  be  that  even  the  Twelve  would  leave  Him  ?  He  knew  them  too  thoroughly 
to  look  for  any  answer  but  an  earnest  assurance  of  their  loyalty.  Yet  it 
was  well  to  put  them  to  the  test,  and  strengthen  their  faith  by  trying  it. 
"  Do  j'ou,  also,  wish  to  leave  me  ?"  asked  He.  "  To  whom,  Lord,  shall  we 
go  away?"  answei^ed  Peter,  ever  the  first  to  speak, — "  Tliou  hast  words  of 
eternal  life,  and  we  have  believed  and  known  that  Thou  art  the  Holy  One 
of  God."  But  even  among  the  Twelve,  as  Jesus  knew,  the  fan  had  chaff 
to  separate  from  the  wheat.  "  Did  not  I  myself  choose  you  Twelve  to  be 
specially  my  own,  and  one  even  of  you  is  a  devil  ?  Beware  of  self-confi- 
dence. If  you  think  you  stand,  take  heed  lest  you  fall !"  Eleven,  as  we 
know,  refused  to  leave  Him.  Did  the  first  thought  of  treachery  rise  in  the 
mind  of  Judas  with  the  blasting  of  worldly  hopes  entertained,  almost 
unconsciously,  till  now  ?  His  Master  had  never  before  spoken  so  ])lainly. 
Henceforth,  to  follow  Him  clearly  meant  to  give  up  all  worldly  aims  or 
prospects,  and  voluntarily  choose  a  life,  and  it  might  be  a  death,  of  self- 
denial  and  self-sacrifice  for  the  nation  and  the  world — or  act  the  hypocrite 
with  a  faint  hope  of  ulterior  advantage. 

Jesus  had  not  gone  to  the  Passover,  for  it  would  have  been  unsafe  to 
have  shown  Himself  in  Jerusalem.  His  disciples,  however,  doubtless  went 
up,  for  no  Jew  neglected  to  do  so,  if  possible.  He  had  now^  been  publicly 
teacliing  in  Galilee  for  some  months  over  a  year,  and  had  not  revisited 


TUB    TUllN    OP   THE   DAY.  477 

Judea,  except  for  a  few  days  at  the  Passover  before,  since  His  first  dis- 
couraging circuit  in  the  south.  The  nortli  had  received  Him  with  a 
warmth  and  frankness  that  had  won  His  heart  by  the  contrast  with  the 
cold  self-righteous  bigotry  of  Judea.  It  had  given  Him  the  Twelve,  and 
the  ready  audience  He  had  found  had  enabled  Him  to  make  a  small  but 
healthy  beginning  of  the  New  Kingdom.  The  imjjulsive,  excitable  Gali- 
l;Kans  seemed  for  a  time,  indeed,  likely  almost  as  a  whole,  to  leave  the 
llabbis  for  His  new  teaching.  But  the  movement  had  been  checked,  and 
the  popular  favour  chilled  by  the  restless  efforts  of  the  party  threatened. 
"W^'cak  in  the  north,  they  had  sent  word  to  Jerusalem  of  the  success  of  the 
Teacher  from  Nazareth,  whom  the  orthodoxy  of  Judea  had  refused  to 
follow.  The  Rabbis  of  the  capital — known  variously  as  "  the  Pharisees," 
"  Scribes,"  or  Soplierim,  "  lawyers,"  "  masters  of  the  traditions,"  "  Haka- 
min,  or  wise  men,"  "  doctors,"  "  expounders  of  the  Law,"  and  "  disputers," 
of  the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles;  and  the  official  ecclesiastical  world  at 
large,  the  priests,  canonists,  and  preachers  of  Judaism,  had  their  stronghold 
in  the  Temple  courts,  and  rivalled  the  bigotry  of  the  more  modern  Mollahs 
and  Softas  of  Mecca  and  Medina.  At  the  first  hint  of  danger,  a  deiDutation 
had  been  sent  to  Capernaum,  but  they  had  failed  to  carry  the  people  Avith 
them  in  their  attempts  to  fix  charges  on  the  ncAV  Teacher.  He  had  de- 
fended Himself  so  dexterously  against  their  allegations  of  Sabbath-break- 
ing and  blasphemy,  that  for  the  time  they  retired  discomfited.  Fresh 
news  from  the  north,  however,  had  again  roused  them.  More  Eabbis 
appeared,  sent  by  the  authorities  in  Jerusalem,  to  see  if  the  rash  Inno- 
vator could  not  be  crushed,  and  their  presence  speedily  led  to  a  further 
conflict. 

In  the  training  of  the  Twelve  for  their  future  work,  it  was  necessary, 
above  all  things,  to  create  and  foster  the  conception  of  moral  freedom;  for 
the  central  point  in  the  contrast  between  the  New  Kingdom  and  the  old 
Theocracy  w^as  the  liljerty  of  the  former  as  opposed  to  the  bondage  to  the 
letter  that  had  prevailed.  The  deep  and  pure  religiousness  Christ  de- 
manded coul-d  only  flourish  where  the  conscience  was  ciuickened,  and  made 
responsible  by  a  sense  of  perfect  sj^iritual  freedom.  He  had  already  an- 
nounced this  great  princij^le  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  The  Twelve 
had  been  disciplined  in  it  by  their  mission  journeys,  but  new  illustrations 
daily  showed  how  hard  it  was  for  them  to  emancipate  themselves  from 
hereditary  prejudices,  and  from  Rabbinical  authority. 

The  very  foundation  of  the  new  Society  was  in  itself  a  breaking  away 
from  the  established  Theocracy,  and  it  necessarily  led  to  continually  more 
decisive  acts  of  independence  and  separation.  The  Jewish  theologians  of 
the  Pharisaic  party,  with  their  pedantic  devotion  to  precedent  and  form, 
and  their  claim  to  direct  the  conscience  of  the  people,  had  to  a  great  extent 
produced  a  mere  outward  religionism,  which  had  weakened  the  moral 
sense  of  the  nation,  and  withered  up  all  aspirations  for  sioiritual  manhood 
and  liberty  of  thought.  They  had  Ijcen  very  popular  for  generations  past, 
as  the  reverend  and  zealous  defenders  of  the  holy  Law  handed  down  from 
the  Fathers.  They  had  recognised  in  Jesus,  still  more  than  in  His  hated 
^nd  feared  predecessor  the  Baptist,  a  deadly  foe,  and  the  success  o£  the 


d78  THE   LIL'E    OE    CHKIST. 

new  tcacliing  iu  Galilee  imperilled  tlieir  influence  if  it  remained  unchecked. 
Witli  keen  foresight  they  had  sought  to  anticipate  the  danger,  l)ut  hitherto 
had  failed  so  ignominiously  that  they  had  for  some  time  past  refrained 
from  open  attack,  contenting  themselves  with  a  secret  hostility  of  dark 
hints,  suspicions  and  blasphemies,  to  poison  the  minds  of  the  people.  Till 
now,  however,  Jesus  had  refrained  from  turning  on  them,  but,  while 
watched  and  assailed,  had  kept  strictly  on  the  defensive.  Henceforth  He 
took  a  different  course.  To  expose  their  innuendoes  and  calumnies  was  no 
lonijer  enouG;h.  He  felt  constrained,  for  the  future,  to  show  that  not  He 
but  His  accusers  vv^ere  really  obnoxious  to  the  charges  made  against  Him 
so  recklessly ;  that  not  He,  but  they,  were  leading  the  people  from  the 
right  way,  and  acting  under  unholy  influence,  and  that  their  zeal  for  God 
was  blind,  not  His. 

A  new  attack  by  them  led  to  this  change.  Reports  of  the  popular  readi- 
ness to  accept  Him  as  Messianic  King,  and  of  His  resolute  refusal  to 
head  such  a  political  movement,  as  alone  could  meet  their  own  wishes,  had 
doubtless  reached  Jerusalem,  and  this,  coupled  with  rumours  of  His  inno- 
vations and  independence  as  a  religious  reformer,  had  thoroughly  alarmed 
the  authorities  at  Jerusalem,  Discarding  invective,  craft,  or  indirect 
approach,  their  deputies  now  came,  no  longer  to  the  disciples,  but  to  Him- 
self, with  specific  complaints,  which  the  easy  access  to  pi'ivate  life  per- 
mitted by  the  freedom  of  Eastern  manners  had  enabled  them  to  establish. 
The  disciples  had  already  given  offence  by  plucking  and  rubbing  ears  of 
barley  on  the  Sabbath,  and  thus,  as  it  was  held,  reaping  and  threshing 
on  the  sacred  day;  but  a  still  graver  scandal  in  Pharisaic  eyes  had  been 
detected  in  their  sitting  down  to  eat  without  ceremonially  washing  their 
hands.  The  law  of  Moses  required  purifications  in  certain  cases,  but  the 
Rabbis  had  perverted  the  spirit  of  Leviticus  in  this,  as  in  other  things,  for 
they  taught  that  food  and  drink  could  not  be  taken  with  a  good  conscience 
when  there  was  the  possibility  of  ceremonial  defilement.  If  every  con- 
ceivable precaution  had  not  been  taken,  the  person  or  the  vessel  used 
might  have  contracted  impurity,  which  would  thus  be  conveyed  to  the 
food,  and  through  the  food  to  the  body,  and  by  it  to  the  soul.  Hence  it 
had  been  long  a  custom,  and  latteidy  a  strict  law,  that  before  every  meal 
not  only  the  hands  but  even  the  dishes,  couches,  and  tables  should  be 
scrupulously  washed. 

The  legal  washing  of  the  hands  before  eating  was  especially  sacred  to 
the  Rabbinist ;  not  to  do  so  was  a  crime  as  great  as  to  eat  the  flesh  of 
swine.  "  He  who  neglects  hand- washing,"  says  the  book  Sohar,  "  deserves 
to  be  punished  here  and  hereafter."  "  He  is  to  be  destroyed  out  of  the 
world,  for  in  hand-washing  is  contained  the  secret  of  the  ten  command- 
ments." "  He  is  guilty  of  death."  "  Three  sins  bring  poverty  after  them," 
says  the  Mishna,  "  and  to  slight  hand-washing  is  one."  "  He  who  eats 
bread  without  hand-washing,"  says  Rabbi  Jose,  "  is  as  if  he  went  in  to  a 
harlot."  The  later  Schulchan  Aruch  enumerates  twenty-six  rules  for  this 
rite  in  the  morning  alone.  "  It  is  better  to  go  four  miles  to  water  than  to 
incur  guilt  by  neglecting  hand-washing,"  says  the  Talmud.  "  He  Avho 
does  not  wash  his  hands  after  eating,"  it  is  said,  "  is  as  bad  as  a  murderer." 


THE   TUBN   01-'   TUE   DAY.  479 

The  devil  Scliibta  sifcs  on  unwashed  hands  and  on  the  bread.  It  Vvas  a 
special  mark  of  the  Pharisees  that  "  they  ate  their  daily  bread  with  due 
purificatLou,"  and  to  neglect  doing  so  was  to  be  despised  as  unclean. 

]labbinism  vfas  now  in  its  highest  glory,  for  the  great  teachers  Hillcl 
and  Shammai,  who  had  died  hardly  a  generation  befoi'c,  had  developed  it 
to  the  uttermost.  They  disputed  so  fiercely,  indeed,  on  many  trifling 
details,  that  it  was  often  said  that  Elias  himself,  when  he  came,  would 
hardly  be  able  to  decide  between  them.  But  they  agreed  respecting  hand- 
washing, so  that  the  Talmud  maintains  that  "  any  one  living  in  the  land  of 
Israel,  eating  his  daily  food  in  purification,  speaking  the  Hebrew  of  the 
day,  and  morning  and  evening  praying  duly  with  the  phylacteries,  is  cer- 
tain that  he  will  eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God." 

It  was  laid  down  that  the  hands  were  first  to  be  washed  clean.  The  tips 
of  the  ten  fingei's  were  then  joined  and  lifted  up  so  that  the  water  ran 
down  to  the  elbows,  then  turned  down  so  that  it  might  run  off  to  the 
ground.  Fresh  water  was  poured  on  them  as  they  were  lifted  up,  and 
twice  again  as  they  hung  down.  The  washing  itself  was  to  be  done  by 
rubbing  the  fist  of  one  hand  in  the  hollow  of  the  other.  When  the  hands 
were  washed  before  eating  they  must  be  held  upwards ;  when  after  it, 
downwards,  but  so  that  the  water  should  not  run  beyond  tlie  knuckles. 
The  vessel  used  must  be  held  first  in  the  right,  then  in  the  left  hand ;  the 
water  was  to  be  poured  first  on  the  right,  then  on  the  left  hand,  and  at 
every  third  time  the  words  repeated :  "  Blessed  art  Thou  who  hast  given 
us  the  command  to  wash  the  hands."  It  was  keenly  disputed  whether  the 
cup  of  blessing  or  the  hand-washing  should  come  first ;  whether  the  towel 
used  should  be  laid  on  the  table  or  on  the  couch ;  and  whether  the  table 
was  to  be  cleared  before  the  final  washing  or  after  it." 

This  anxious  trifling  over  the  infinitely  little  was,  however,  only  part  of 
a  system.  If  a  Pharisee  proposed  to  eat  common  food  it  was  enough  that 
the  hands  were  washed  by  water  poured  on  them.  Before  eating  Terumah 
— the  holy  tithes  and  the  shew-bread — they  must  be  dipped  completely  in 
the  water,  and  before  the  portions  of  the  holy  offerings  could  be  tasted,  a 
bath  must  be  taken.  Hand-washing  before  prayer,  or  touching  anything 
in  the  morning,  was  as  rigidly  observed,  for  evil  spirits  might  Lave  defiled 
the  hands  in  the  night.  To  touch  the  mouth,  nose,  ear,  eyes,  or  the  one 
hand  with  the  other,  before  the  rite,  was  to  incur  the  risk  of  disease  in  the 
part  touched.  The  occasions  that  demanded  the  observance  were  count- 
less: it  must  be  done  even  after  cutting  the  nails,  or  killing  a  flea.  The 
more  water  used,  the  more  piety.  "  He  who  uses  abundant  Avater  for 
hand-washing,"  says  R.  Cliasda,  "  will  have  abundant  riches."  If  one  had 
not  been  out  it  Avas  enough  to  pour  water  on  the  hands ;  but  one  coming 
in  from  without  needed  to  plunge  his  hands  into  the  water,  for  ho  knew 
not  what  imcleanness  might  have  been  near  him  while  in  the  streets,  and 
this  plunging  could  not  be  done  except  in  a  spot  where  there  were  not  less 
thiii  sixty  gallons  of  water. 

The  same  scrupulous,  superstitious  minuteness  extended  to  possible 
dciilemcnts  of  all  the  household  details  of  daily  life.  Dishes,  hollow  or 
flat,  of   whatever  material,  knives,  tables,  and  couches,  were  constantly 


480  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

subjected  to  purificatious,  lest  they  slionld  have  contracted  any  Levitical 
defilement  by  being  nsed  by  some  one  nnclcan. 

This  ritual  exaggeration  Avas,  apparently,  a  result  of  the  jealousy 
between  the  democratic  Pharisees  and  the  lordly  Sadducees.  The  latter 
attached  supreme  importance  to  the  ceremonial  sanctity  of  the  officiating 
priests,  to  exalt  themselves  as  the  clerical  aristocracy.  The  Pharisees,  to 
humble  them,  laid  the  stress,  as  far  as  possible,  on  the  vessels  used,  and 
the  exactness  of  the  act.  In  keeping  with  their  endless  washings  in 
private,  they  demanded  that  all  the  vessels  of  the  Temple  itself  should  be 
purified  after  each  feast,  lest  some  unclean  person  might  have  defiled  them 
— a  refinement  which  drew  down  on  a  Pharisee,  who  was  carrying  out 
even  the  golden  candlestick  itself  to  wash  it  after  a  festival,  the  mocking 
gilje  from  a  Sadducee,  that  he  expected  before  long  the  Pharisees  would 
give  the  sun  a  washing. 

The  authority  for  this  endless,  mechanical  religionism  was  the  com- 
mands or  "  traditions  "  of  the  Fathers,  handed  down  from  the  days  of  the 
Great  Synagogue,  but  ascribed  with  pious  exaggeration  to  the  Almighty, 
who,  it  was  said,  had  delivered  them  orally  to  ]\toses  on  Mount  Sinai. 
Interpretations,  expositions,  and  discussions  of  all  kinds,  were  based,  not 
only  on  every  separate  word,  or  on  every  letter,  but  even  on  every  pause 
and  breathing,  to  create  new  laws  and  observances,  and  where  these  were 
not  enough,  oral  traditions,  said  to  have  been  given  by  God  to  Moses  on 
the  Mount,  were  invented  to  justify  new  refinements.  These  "traditions" 
were  constantly  increased,  and  formed  a  New  Law,  which  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  from  generation  to  generation,  till,  at  last,  public 
schools  rose  for  its  study  and  development,  of  which  the  most  famous 
were  those  of  Hillel  and  Shammai,  in  the  generation  before  Jesus,  and 
even,  perhaps,  in  His  early  childliood.  In  His  lifetime  it  was  still  a 
fundamental  rule  that  they  should  not  be  committed  to  writing.  It  was 
left  to  Rabbi  Judah  the  Holy,  to  commence  the  collection  and  formal  en- 
grossing of  the  almost  countless  fragments  of  which  it  consisted,  and  from 
his  weary  labour  ultimately  rose  the  huge  folios  of  the  Talmud. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  Brahminical  theocracy  of  India,  that  of  Judca 
attached  more  importance  to  the  ceremonial  precepts  of  its  schools  than 
to  the  sacred  text  on  which  they  were  based.  Wherever  Scripture  and 
tradition  seemed  opposed,  the  latter  was  treated  as  the  higher  authority. 
Pharisaism  openly  proclaimed  this,  and  set  itself,  as  the  Gospel  expresses 
it,  in  the  chair  of  Moses,  displacing  the  great  lawgiver.  "  It  is  a  greater 
offence,"  says  the  Mishna,  "  to  teach  anything  contrary  to  the  voice  of  the 
Eabbis,  than  to  contradict  Scripture  itself.  He  who  says,  contrary  to 
Scrij)ture,  'It  is  not  lawful  to  wear  the  Tephillin'" — the  little  leather 
boxes  containing  texts  of  Scripture,  bound,  during  prayer,  on  the  forehead 
and  on  the  arm — "  is  not  to  be  punished  as  a  troubler.  But  he  who  says 
there  should  l)e  five  divisions  in  the  Totaphoth  "^another  name  for  the 
Tephillin,  or  phylacteries— "and  thus  teaches  differently  from  the  Eabbis, 
is  guilty."  "  He  who  expounds  the  Scriptures  in  opposition  to  the  tradi- 
tion," says  R.  Eleazar,  "  has  no  share  in  the  world  to  come."  The  mass  of 
Rabbinical  prescriptions— not  the  Scripture— was  regarded  as  the  basis  of 


THE    TURN    OF    THE    DAY.  481 

religion,  "for  the  Covenant  of  God  was  declared  to  have  been  made  with 
Isi'ael  on  account  of  the  oral  Law,  as  it  is  written,  '  After  the  tenor  of 
these  xvords  I  have  made  a  covenant,'  etc.  For  God  knew  that,  in  after 
ages,  Israel  would  be  carried  away  among  strange  people,  who  would  copy 
oil  the  written  Law,  and,  therefore,  He  gave  them  the  oral  Law,  that  His 
will  might  be  kept  secret  among  themselves."  Those  who  gave  them- 
selves to  the  knowledge  of  the  traditions  "  saw  a  great  light,"  for  God 
enlightened  their  eyes,  and  showed  them  how  they  ought  to  act  in  relation 
to  lawful  and  unlawful  things,  clean  and  unclean,  which  are  not  told  thus 
fully  and  clearly  in  Scriptui-e.  It  was,  perhaps,  good  to  give  one's  self  to 
the  reading  of  the  Scripture,  but  he  who  reads  diligently  the  traditions 
receives  a  reward  from  God,  and  he  who  gives  himself  to  the  Commen- 
taries on  these  traditions  has  the  greatest  reward  of  all.  "  The  Bible  was 
like  water,  the  Traditions  like  wine,  the  Commentaries  on  them  like  spiced 
wine."  "  My  son,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  give  more  heed  to  the  words  of  the 
Eabbis  than  to  the  words  of  the  Law."  So  exactly  alike  is  Ultra-High- 
churchism  in  every  age,  and  in  all  religions  ! 

Jesus  had  no  sympathy  with  a  system  which  thus  ignored  conscience, 
and  found  the  essence  of  religion  in  the  slavery  of  outAvard  forms.  The 
New  Kingdom  was  in  the  heart :  in  the  loving  sonship  of  the  Father  in 
Heaven;  and  all  outward  observances  had  value  only  as  expressions  of 
this  tender  relationship.  The  Pharisees  had  refined  the  Law  into  a  micro- 
scopic casuistry  which  prescribed  for  every  isolated  act,  but  Jesus  brought 
it  into  the  compass  of  a  living  principle  in  the  soul.  From  the  outer 
particular  requirement.  He  passed  to  the  spirit  it  was  intended  to  express. 
Special  enactments  were  sulfered  to  fall  aside,  if  the  vital  idea  they 
embodied  were  honoured.  A  lifetime  was  hardly  enough  to  learn  the 
Eabbinical  precejDts  respecting  offerings,  but  Jesus  virtually  abrogated 
them  all  by  the  short  utterance  that  "  mercy  was  better  than  sacrifice." 
The  schools  had  added  to  the  simple  distinctions  of  the  Law  between  clean 
and  imclean  beasts,  endless  refinements  respecting  different  parts  of  each, 
and  the  necessary  rites ;  the  simple  rule  of  Jesus  was — It  is  not  what 
enters  the  mouth  that  defiles  a  man,  but  what  comes  from  the  heart.  The 
Rabbis  contended  respecting  the  occasions  on  which  vessels  should  be 
purified  in  running  rather  than  in  drawn  water,  and  how  the  purifications 
of  wooden  and  metal  dishes  were  to  be  minutely  discriminated.  Jesus 
waived  aside  this  trifling  and  deadly  pedantry,  and  told  His  hearers  to 
take  care  to  be  clean  within,  and  then  the  outside  would  be  clean  also. 
Eveu  the  Sabbath  laws,  with  their  countless  enactments,  were  as  briefly 
condensed.  "  It  is  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath  day."  "  The  Sabbath 
was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the  Sabbath."  Such  teaching  was  new  in 
Israel.     It  was  revolutionary  in  the  grandest  sense. 

The  deputation  of  Rabbis  now  sent  to  Capernaum  were  determined  to 
bring  matters  to  a  crisis.  Their  spies,  and  perhaps  themselves,  had  care- 
fully gathered  evidence  whether  Jesus  and  His  disciples  observed  the 
traditions,  and  carried  them  out  with  the  minuteness  of  a  recognised  re- 
ligious duty;  whether  He  and  they  dipped  their  hands  duly  before  eating; 
whether  they  held  them  up  or  down  in  doing  so ;    whether  they  wetted 

II 


482  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

them  to  the  elbows  or  to  tlie  knuckles,  or  wetted  uuly  tlic  tinger-tips,  as 
tlic  school  of  Shammai  prescribed  for  certain  cases ;  and  they  had  found, 
to  their  horror,  that  neither  He  nor  His  disciples  washed  their  hands  thus 
ceremonially  at  all.  The  next  Passover  would  show  how  formally  they 
had  laid  their  information  against  Him,  before  the  Sanhedrim,  with  its 
leaders,  the  high  priest  Caiaphas  and  the  powerful  Hannas,  for  such 
independence  and  audacity. 

Meanwhile,  their  demand  for  an  explanation  gave  Jesus  the  desired 
opportunity  to  break,  finally,  w4th  their  whole  party.  A  casuistry  worthy 
of  Suarez  or  Escobar,  had  sapped  the  fundamental  principles  of  morality, 
in  the  name  of  religion.  With  a  keen  eye  to  the  interests  of  their  caste, 
the  Rabbis  had  trifled  with  the  subject  of  oaths  and  vows  in  such  a  way 
that  the  treasury  of  the  Temple  was  not  only  sacred  from  all  pul^lic  appeals, 
but  was  continually  enriched  by  money  which  ought,  rightfully,  to  have 
gone  to  the  support  of  families  and  relations,  and  even  of  aged  or  poor 
parents.  The  utterance  of  the  ATord  "Corban"— "I  have  vowed  it  to 
sacred  uses  " — sequestrated  anything,  absolutely  and  irreversibly,  to  the 
Temple.  It  might  be  spoken  under  the  influence  of  death-bed  terroi',  or 
in  the  weakness  of  superstitious  fear,  but  if  once  uttered,  the  Church 
threw  round  the  money  or  property  thus  secured,  the  impassable  barrier 
of  her  ghostly  claims. 

To  honour  one's  parents  was  one  of  the  "  Ten  Words  "  of  Sinai,  and  no 
duty  was  held  more  sacred  by  a  Jew  unperverted  by  Rabbinical  sophistry. 
It  was  not  forgotten  that  it  was  the  one  commandment  to  which  a  promise 
of  reward  was  attached.  "A  child  is  bound  to  maintain  his  parents  when 
old  and  helpless,"  says  one  passage  in  the  Talmud,  "  even  if  he  have  to 
beg  to  do  so."  But  this,  unfortunately,  was  not  the  uniform  teaching  of 
Christ's  day.  If  one  Rabbi  had  put  filial  duty  before  the  right  to  vow  for 
one's  own  advantage,  others  had  taught  that  it  was  a  duty  to  honour  God 
before  honouring  human  relationships — a  smooth  phrase  for  legalising 
gifts  to  the  Church  at  the  expense  even  of  father  and  mother.  The 
hierarchical  party  ignored  all  interests  but  their  own,  and  subordinated 
natural  duty  to  their  own  enrichment.  Pharisaism,  in  its  moral  decay, 
had  come  to  be  a  spiritual  death,  corrupting  the  springs  of  national  life. 
A  few  years  later,  in  the  time  of  the  great  famine  of  the  year  a.d.  4-5, 
under  Claudius,  the  theocratic  party  cared  for  themselves  so  heartlessly, 
that  while  the  people  were  perishing  of  hunger  by  hundreds,  no  remission 
of  Temple  dues  was  permitted,  aiid  the  Passover  alone  saw  forty-one 
Attic  bushels  of  wheat  presented  at  the  altar,  to  be  presently  removed 
for  the  use  of  the  priests,  though  the  issarion — a  measui-e  of  three  and  a 
half  pints — sold  for  four  drachmas,  a  sum  equal  to  about  twenty-six 
shillings  at  the  present  value  of  money.  Josephus,  indeed,  boasts  that 
no  priest  ate  a  crumb  of  the  grain  thus  relentlessly  hoarded ;  but  when 
even  a  high  priest  was  known  as  "  the  disciple  of  gluttons,"  rioting  in 
great  feasts  on  the  sacrifices  and  wine  of  the  altar,  the  mass  of  his  order 
would  not  be  fastidious  about  the  wheat  and  the  bread. 

Representatives  of  this  smooth  hypocrisy  had  now  gathered  round 
Jesus,  and  proceeded  to  inquire  into  His  alleged  unlawful  acts.     "  How 


THE    TURN   OF   THE   DAY.  483 

comes  it,"  asked  they,  "  that  a  teacher  who  claims  a  higher  sanctity  than 
others,  can  quietly  permit  His  disciples  to  neglect  a  custom  imposed  by 
our  wise  forefathers,  and  so  carefully  observed  by  every  pious  Israelite  ? 
How  is  it  that  they  do  not  wash  their  hands  before  eating?  " 

"  They  neglect  only  a  ceremony  introduced  by  men,"  retorted  Jesus ; 
"  but  how  comes  it  that  you,  v/ho  know  the  Law,  transgress  commands 
which  are  not  of  man,  but  from  God  Himself?  How  comes  it  that,  for 
the  sake  of  traditions  invented  by  the  Eabbis,  you  set  aside  the  most 
explicit  commands  of  God?  He  has,  for  example,  said  that  we  must 
honour  our  father  and  mother,  and  support  and  care  for  them  in  old  age. 
He  has  declared  it  worthy  of  death  for  any  one  to  deny  his  parents  due 
reverence,  or  to  treat  them  harshly  or  with  neglect.  But  you  have 
invented  a  doctrine  which  absolves  children,  in  many  cases,  from  this 
commandment.  '  If  any  one,'  says  your  '  tradition,'  '  is  asked  by  his 
parents  for  a  gift  or  help,  for  their  benefit,  he  has  only  to  say  that  he  has 
vowed  that  very  part  of  his  means  to  the  Temple,  and  they  cannot  press 
him  fm-ther  to  contribute  to  their  support.'  How  cunningly  have  you 
thus  circumvented  God's  law  !  How  easy  is  it  for  any  one  to  break  it, 
and  affect  a  zeal  for  religion  in  doing  so  ! 

"  Ye  hypocrites  !  acting  religion  " — now  for  the  first  time  thus  denounc- 
ing them  and  their  party — "  well  has  Isaiah  painted  you  when  he  introduces 
God  as  saying,  '  This  nation  has  its  worship  in  words,  and  its  religion  is 
of  the  lips,  while  its  heart  is  far  from  Me.  Their  service  of  Me  is  worth- 
less, for  it  is  not  My  Law,  but  only  human  invention.'  These  words 
describe  you  to  the  letter.  You  put  aside  what  God  has  commanded,  and 
has  enforced  by  promises  and  threats,  and  yet  keep  superstitiously,  '  tradi- 
tions '  which  only  custom,  and  homage  to  human  teachers,  have  intro- 
duced.    Of  this  kind  are  your  hand-washings,  and  many  similar  usages." 

Such  a  defence  was  an  open  declaration  of  war  against  Pharisaism,  and 
the  hierarchy  closely  identified  with  it.  His  words  struck  at  the  insin- 
cerity and  false-heartedness  of  the  party  as  a  whole,  at  its  fundamental  \ 
principles,  its  practice,  its  modes  of  thought,  its  whole  ideas- and  aims. 
They  are  pious,  very  pious.  He  tells  them,  in  outward  seeming.  They 
keep  the  traditions  fastidiously,  but  their  piety  is  from  the  lips,  not  the 
heart ;  obedience  to  the  Rabbis,  not  God.  They  wash  pots  and  cups,  and 
care  for  gifts,  as  their  religion,  and  ignore  the  commands  of  Jehovah.  No 
irony  could  be  more  keen  or  annihilating.  What  flames  of  rage  must  it 
have  kindled  iii  the  hearts  of  the  great  party  so  mortally  assailed  ?  They 
could  not  challenge  His  loyalty  to  the  higher  law,  for  He  spoke  as  its 
Champion  against  their  human  additions  and  perversions.  They  could 
not  but  feel  that,  far  from  destroying  either  the  Law  or  the  Prophets,  He 
was  ennobling  and  exalting  them.  But  the  very  light  He  poured  on  the 
oracles  of  God  showed  so  much  the  more  the  worthlessness  of  their 
cherished  system,  and  their  misconception  of  their  office  as  the  teachers 
of  the  people.  He  had  virtually  condemned  not  only  their  putting  wash- 
ings above  duty  to  parents;  He  had  denounced  them  for  laying  more 
stress  on  the  Temple  worship  and  ritual  than  on  such  filial  piety.  Hence 
washings,  sacrifices,  alms,  and  fasts ;  all  the  boastful,  pretentious  worship 


484  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

and  outward  practice  on  wliicli  tlicy  rested,  were  of  no  value  compared 
with  the  great  eternal  commands  of  God,  and  were  even  crimes  and  impiety, 
when  they  proudly  set  themselves  in  their  room.  He  arraigned  Phari- 
saism, the  dominant  orthodoxy,  as  a  whole.  The  system,  so  famous,  so 
arrogant,  so  intensely  Jewish,  was  only  an  invention  of  man ;  a  subversion 
of  the  Law  it  claimed  to  represent,  an  antagonism  to  the  Prophets  as  well 
as  to  Moses,  the  spiritual  ruin  of  the  nation ! 

The  die  was  finally  cast.  All  that  it  involved  had  been  long  weighed, 
but  He  who  had  come  into  the  world  to  witness  to  the  Truth,  could  let  no 
prudent  regard  for  self  restrain  His  testimony.  It  was  vital  that  the 
people  who  followed  the  Rabbis  and  priests  should  know  what  the  religion 
and  morals  thus  taught  by  them  were  worth.  The  truth  could  not  find 
open  ears  while  men's  hearts  were  misled  and  prejudiced  by  such  in- 
structors, No  one  would  seek  inward  renewal  who  had  been  taught  to 
care  only  for  externals,  and  to  ignore  the  sin  and  corruption  within. 
Pharisaism  was  a  creed  of  inoral  cosmetics  and  religious  masks,  as  all 
ritual  systems  mnst  ever  be.  With  Jesus,  the  only  true  religion  was 
purity  of  heart  and  absolute  sincerity  to  truth.  Leaving  the  Eabbis, 
therefore,  and  calling  round  Him  the  crowd  Avhich  was  lingering  near,  He 
proclaimed  aloud  the  great  principle  He  had  laid  down — "  Hear  me,  all 
of  you,"  cried  He,  "  and  understand.  There  is  nothing  from  without  the 
man  that,  entering  into  him,  can  defile  him;  but  the  things  which  come 
out  of  the  man  are  those  that  defile  him."  Words  clear  enough  to  us, 
perhajis,  but  grand  beyond  thought  when  uttered,  for  they  were  the  knell 
of  caste — heard  now,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  history  of  the  world;— the 
knell  of  national  divisions  and  hatreds,  and  of  the  religious  worth  of 
external  observances,  as  such,  and  the  inauguration  of  a  universal  religion 
of  spirit  and  truth  !  They  proclaimed  that  nothing  external,  made  clean 
or  unclean,  holy  or  unholy.  Purity  and  impurity  were  words  applicable 
only  to  the  soul  and  its  utterances  and  acts.  The  charter  of  spiritual 
religion,  the  abrogation  of  the  supremacy  of  forms  and  formula  for  ever, 
was  at  last  announced;  the  leaven  of  religious  freedom  cast  into  the  life 
of  humanity,  to  leaven  it  throughout  in  the  end  ! 

Even  the  disciples  were  alarmed  at  an  attitude  so  revolutionary.  In  com- 
mon with  the  nation  at  large,  they  looked  on  the  Rabbis  with  a  supersti- 
tious reverence,  and  now  hastened  to  tell  Jesus  how  deeply  the  whole  class 
was  offended  by  His  words.  It  was  hard  for  simple  Galitean  peasants  to 
break  away  from  hereditary  habits  of  thought.  But  Christ's  answer  was 
ready.  "  Every  plant  which  my  Heavenly  Father  has  not  planted,  shall 
be  rooted  out.  Leave  them  :  they  are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind,  and,  as 
such,  both  they  and  their  followers  must  stumble  on  to  destruction !  " 
The  plants  of  human,  not  Divine  planting,  were  the  "  traditions  "  and 
"commandments  of  men"— the  "hedge  of  the  Law,"  in  which  the  Rabbis 
gloried.  Henceforth,  there  was  a  breach  for  ever  between  the  men  of  the 
schools  and  the  New  King-dom. 

But  the  mind  is  slow  to  realize  great  spiritual  truths.  To  the  disciples, 
their  Master's  words  were  dark  and  strange,  demanding  explanation. 
"Nor  was  it  possible,  either  then,  or  even  to  the  very  last,  to  familiarize 


THE    COASTS    OF   THE    HEATHEN.  485 

them  with  the  new  ideas  they  involved,  or  free  them  from  the  influence  of 
past  modes  of  thought.  The  tendency  to  regard  tlie  external  and  formal 
as  a  vital  and  leading  characteristic  of  religion,  was  well-nigh  unconquer- 
able in  minds  habituated  to  Jewish  conceptions.  An  earnest  request  of 
Peter  for  further  explanation,  only  drew  forth  an  amplification  of  what 
had  been  already  said.  The  evil  in  man  was  traced  directly  to  the 
thoughts  ;  but  to  eat  with  unwashed  hands,  it  was  rejDeated,  made  a  man 
in  no  way  "  common  "  or  polluted,  as  alleged  by  the  Pharisees.  Yet  the 
truth  had  to  lie  long  in  the  breasts  of  the  Twelve  before  it  wrought  their 
spiritual  emancipation  from  the  slavery  of  the  past.  The  natural  and 
eternal  distinction  of  good  and  evil  was  proclaimed,  after  having  been 
obscured  for  ages  by  an  artificial  morality  ;  but  fully  to  unlearn  inveter- 
ate prejudice  would  require  the  lapse  of  generations. 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

THE    COASTS   OF   THE   HEATHEN. 

JESUS  had  now,  apparently,  been  two  years  before  the  world  as  a  reli- 
gious teacher,  and  had  shared  the  usual  lot  of  those  who  seek  to  reform 
entrenched  and  prosperous  abuses.  His  brief  and  dazzling  popularity 
had  roused  the  bitter  hostility  of  threatened  interests,  and  they  were  at 
last  banded  together  for  His.  destruction.  For  months  past  He  had  seen 
the  death-clouds  gathering  ever  more  threateningly  over  Him,  and  devoted 
Himself,  with  calm  anticipation  of  the  end,  to  the  task  of  training  the 
Twelve  to  continue  His  work  when  He  had  perished.  He  had  taken  the 
utmost  care  to  avoid  open  collision  Avith  His  enemies,  and  to  confine  Him- 
self to  the  instruction  of  the  little  circle  round  Him  ;  but  the  priests  and 
Eabbis  had  been  quick  to  see  in  this  very  quiet  and  retirement  their 
greatest  danger,  for  open  conflict  might  destroy  what  peaceful  seclusion 
would  give  opportunity  to  take  root.  "  The  world,"  as  He  Himself  ex- 
pressed it,  "  hated  Him,  because  He  witnessed  of  it  that  its  works  were 
evil."  Not  only  His  formal  accusations  a:id  the  spirit  of  His  teaching, 
but  His  whole  life  and  actions,  and  even  His  gentlest  words,  arraigned 
things  as  they  were. 

Rumours  of  possible  action  against  Him  by  Antipas  increased  the  diSi- 
culty  of  the  situation.  Every  one  knew  that  He  and  many  of  His  followers 
had  come  from  the  school  of  the  Baptist,  whom  Antii)as  had  just  mui'dered, 
and  it  was  evident  that  His  aim  was  more  or  less  similar  to  that  of  John, 
though  His  acts  were  more  wonderful.  Hence  sjaeculation  was  rife  re- 
specting Him.  Was  He  the  promised  Elias  ?  or,  at  least,  Jeremiah,  risen 
from  the  dead  ?  or  was  He  some  special  prophet  sent  from  God  ?  Many, 
indeed,  were  questioning  if  He  might  not  even  be  the  Messiah,  and  were 
willing  to  accept  Him  as-  such,  if  He  would  only  head  a  national  revolt,  in 
alliance  with  the  Rabbis  and  priests,  against  the  Romans.  To  Antipas 
His  appearance  Avas  doubly  alarming,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  fancied  revo- 
lutionary movement  of  John  had  broken  out  afresh,  more  fiercely  than  ever, 


486  THE   LIFE    OP   CHEIST. 

and  superstition,  working  in  an  uneasy  conscience,  easily  saw  in  Him  a 
resurrection  of  tlie  murdered  BajDtist,  endowed,  now,  with  the  awful  power 
of  the  eternal  world  from  which  he  had  returned.  A  second  murder 
seemed  needed  to  make  the  first  effective,  and  to  avoid  this  additional 
danger  Jesus  for  a  time  sought  concealment. 

But  the  craft  and  violence  of  the  half -heathen  Antipas  was  a  slight  evil 
compared  with  the  hatred  which  glowed  ever  more  intensely  in  the  breasts 
of  the  Eabbis  and  priests  of  Jerusalem,  and  in  those  of  the  Pharisees  and 
other  disciples  of  the  schools,  scattered  over  the  country.  The  demands 
of  Jesus  went  far  beyond  the  mere  summons  of  the  Baptist,  to  prepare  for 
a  new  and  better  time.  He  required  immediate  submission  to  a  new 
Theocracy.  He  excited  the  fury  of  the  dominant  party,  not  like  the  Bap- 
tist, hj  isolated  bursts  of  denunciation,  but  by  working  quietlj^,  as  a  King 
in  His  own  kingdom,  which,  though  in  the  world,  was  yet  something  far 
higher.  Hence,  the  feeling  against  Him  was  very  different  from  the 
partial,  cautious,  and  intermittent  hatred  to  the  Baptist.  The  hierarchy 
and  the  Rabbis,  as  the  centre  of  that  which,  with  all  its  corruptions,  was, 
as  yet,  the  only  true  religion  on  earth,  felt  themselves  compromised 
directly  and  fatally  by  Him,  and  could  not  maintain  themselves  as  they 
were,  if  He  were  tolerated.  The  whole  spiritual  power  of  Israel  was  thus 
arrayed  against  Him;  a  force  slowly  created  by  the  possession,  for  ages, 
of  the  grandest  religious  truths  known  to  the  ancient  world,  and  by  the 
pride  of  a  long  and  incomparably  sublime  national  history.  In  the  past, 
it  had  been  assailed  from  without,  at  long  intervals,  but  in  recent  years  it 
had  been,  for  the  first  time,  attacked  from  within  by  the  Baptist,  and  now 
felt  itself  still  more  dangerously  assaulted  by  this  Galilcean.  To  crush 
such  an  apparently  insignificant  opponent — a  peasant  of  N'azareth,  rising, 
singly  and  unsupported,  against  a  power  so  colossal — seemed  easy ;  nor 
could  it  be  fancied  more  difficult  to  scatter  and  destroy  His  small  band  of 
followers,  as  yet,  mostly,  despised  peasants. 

The  fii'st  official  step  towards  the  repression  of  the  new  movement  had, 
apparently,  been  already  taken,  on  the  occasion  of  the  last  visit  of  Jesus  to 
Jerusalem.  His  cure  of  the  blind  man  on  the  Sabbath,  had  then  brought 
down  on  Him  the  warning  punishment  of  the  lesser  excommunication, 
which  entailed  formal  exclusion  from  the  synagogues  of  Judea,  and  was 
all  they  dared  as  yet  inflict.  In  consequence  of  it,  He  had  never  returned 
to  the  south,  but  confined  Himself  to  the  north,  where  the  synagogues 
were  still  open  to  Him.  The  same  sentence  seems  now  to  have  been 
gradually  extended  to  the  synagogues  of  Galilee,  for  we  cease  to  read  of 
His  entering  them  or  teaching  in  them.  But  as  this  measure  evidently 
failed,  spies  were  let  loose  on  Him,  to  dog  His  steps  constantly,  and  find 
ground  for  fresh  charges,  even  by  invading  the  privacy  of  His  home  life. 

This  deadly  hatred,  with  all  that  it  involved  in  the  future,  had  been 
foreseen  from  the  first,  and  His  utmost  care,  His  seclusion,  and  His 
innocence,  had  only  delayed  the  crisis  that  had  now  come.  The  founda- 
tion of  His  New  Kingdom  on  a  firm  basis,  by  the  choice  and  preparation 
of  the  Twelve,  had,  however,  lightened  the  thought  of  it,  and  neutralized 
its  worse  consequences.     Yet  it  was  still  necessary  to  ward  off  the  cata- 


THE    COASTS    OF   THE    HEATHEN.  487 

stroplie  as  long  as  possible,  in  onder  to  advance  the  great  -work  of  Ijuilding 
up  and  consolidating  the  infant  society  He  had  established;  foi-  it  was 
slow  work  to  ripen  vigorous  faith  and  adequate  spirituality,  even  in  those 
under  His  personal  influence.  But  the  growing  hatred  and  ill-will  of  His 
enemies  made  lengthened  residence  in  any  one  place  henceforth  undesir- 
able, and  He  had  from  this  time  to  take  more  frequent,  as  well  as  wider 
circuits,  to  escape  them.  Yet  there  were  compensating  benefits,  even  in 
this  wandering  life,  for  it  made  it  easier,  amidst  the  many  unforeseen  inci- 
dents of  each  day,  to  raise  the  Twelve  to  that  higher  faith  and  greater 
steadfastness  which  yet  failed  them,  and  it  enabled  Him  to  help  many  in 
outlying  parts,  who  were  fitted  to  receive  good  at  His  hands.  The  gracious 
purpose  of  God  was  thus  leading  Him  to  visit,  in  peace,  all  the  chief 
places  of  the  land,  which  it  was  His  great  mission  to  summon  to  enter  His 
kingdom. 

One  inevitable  result  was,  that  the  nearer  the  end  came,  the  more  neces- 
sary was  it  to  make  clear  to  the  Twelve  the  causes  of  this  hatred  shown 
towards  Him,  and  the  Divine  necessity  of  His  approaching  death.  Hence, 
He  took  every  opportunity  from  this  time  to  impress  both  thoughts  more 
and  more  clearly  on  His  followers.  His  warnings  against  the  corruptions 
of  the  hierarchical  party  became  more  frequent,  and  constantly  keener, 
until,  at  last,  the  Twelve  understood,  in  some  measure,  the  whole  situation. 

Forsaking  the  shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  He  now  turned  to  the  far 
north,  with  the  Twelve  as  companions  of  His  flight.  His  way  led  Him 
over  the  rough  uplands  towards  Safed,  with  its  near  view  of  the  snowy 
summits  of  Lebanon.  Then,  leaving  Gischala  on  the  right,  the  road 
passed  through  one  of  the  many  woody  valleys  of  these  highland  regions, 
till,  at  the  distance  of  two  days'  journey  from  the  lake,  it  reached  the  slope 
at  the  foot  of  which  lay  the  plains  of  Tyre.  A  yellow  strip  of  beach  and 
sand  divides  the  hills  from  the  sea,  into  which  stretched  the  insular  tongue 
of  land  on  which  Tyre  was  built.  He  looked  doAvn,  perhaps  for  the  first 
time  so  closely,  on  the  smoking  chimneys  of  the  glass  works  of  Sidon 
and  of  the  dye  works  at  Tyre ;  on  the  long  rows  of  warehouses  filled  with 
the  merchandise  of  the  world ;  on  the  mansions,  monuments,  public  build- 
ings, palaces  and  temples  of  the  two  cities,  and  their  harbours  and  moles 
ci'owded  with  shipping.  The  busy  scene  before  Him  was  the  land  of  the 
accursed  Canaanite ;  the  seat  of  the  worship  of  Baal  and  Ashtaroth,  which 
had  of  old  so  often  corrupted  Israel ;  a  region,  with  all  its  wealth  and 
splendour,  and  surpassing  beauty  of  palm  groves  and  gardens  and  em- 
bowering green,  so  depraved  and  polluted,  that  the  Hebrew  had  adopted 
the  name  of  Beelzebub — one  of  its  chief  idols — as  that  of  the  Prince  of 
Devils.  Yet,  even  here,  Jesus  felt  a  pity  and  charity  unknown  to  His 
nation,  and  the  great  sea  beyond,  whitened  with  wing-like  sails,  awoke 
a  fair  dream  of  the  future,  when  distant  lands,  washed  by  the  waves 
over  which  these  vessels  sped,  would  gladly  receive  the  message  He  came 
to  deliver. 

Whether  He  passed  into  heathen  territory  is  a  question.  He  may  only 
have  gone  as  far  as  the  border  of  the  alien  district.  The  whole  region 
was  more  or  less  thickly  settled  by  Jews,  drawn  by  commerce,  or  through 


488  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

long  historic  association  witli  the  district,  which  had  been  assigned  to 
Asshur,  though  never  won  by  that  tribe.  As  long  ago  as  the  days  of  the 
Judges,  the  population  had  been  half  heathen,  half  Jewish.  Kept  back, 
through  all  their  history,  from  the  sea-coast,  Israel  had  come  to  hate  the 
life  of  a  sailor  from  which  they  were  thus  debarred,  and  hence  were  con- 
tented to  settle  amidst  the  busy  traders  of  Phenicia,  without  attempting, 
after  the  first  failure,  to  dispossess  them.  No  retreat  could  have  promised 
more  safe  retirement,  but  Jesus  was  now  too  universally  known  to  remain 
anywhere  undiscovered,  for  numbers  had  come  to  Galilee,  even  from  these 
very  districts,  to  see  and  hear  Him. 

His  mission,  during  His  life,  had  been  repeatedly  defined  b}^  Himself,  as 
only  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  House  of  Israel.  That  He  felt  no  narrow 
exclusiveness  had  been  already  shown  by  the  incidents  of  His  journey 
through  Samai'ia,  and  by  the  prophetic  joy  with  which  He  had  predicted 
the  entrance  of  many  from  the  heathen  world  into  His  New  Society.  Even 
His  sympathy  with  loublicans  and  sinners,  and  with  the  outcast  sunken 
multitude,  whose  ignorance  of  Rabbinical  precepts  was  held  to  mark  them 
as  accursed  of  God,  had,  in  fact,  been  as  distinct  protests  against  Pharisaic 
bigotry  as  He  could  have  made  even  by  the  formal  recognition  of  heathen 
as  citizens  of  His  New  Kingdom.  And  had  He  not  proclaimed  the 
supreme  truth  that  God  was  the  great  Father  of  all  mankind,  and  that  the 
human  race,  round  the  world,  were  brethren  in  His  great  household  ?  But 
pity  for  His  own  nation — the  Israel  of  the  Old  Covenant — for  the  time 
forbade  His  going  forth  to  all  races,  with  the  open  invitation  to  join  the 
new  Theocracy.  It  would  at  once  have  sealed  the  fate  of  His  people ; 
for  what  was  offered  to  the  heathen  would,  from  that  very  fact,  have  been 
instantly  rejected  by  the  fanatical  Jew. 

It  was  vain  for  Him  to  seek  rest.  A  woman  of  the  country,  by  lan- 
guage a  Greek,  by  nationality  a  Canaanite,  and  by  residence  a  Syro-Pheni- 
eian — for  Phenicia  was  attached  to  the  Roman  province  of  Syria — perhaps 
a  heathen,  but,  in  any  case,  of  a  humble  religious  heart,  heard  that  He  was 
in  the  neighbourhood.  His  fame  had  long  before  spread  so  widely,  that 
the  wondrous  cures  He  had  performed  were  everywhere  known.  Among 
others,  this  woman  had  heard  of  them,  and  maternal  love  was  quick  to 
turn  them  to  its  own  unselfish  account.  She  had  a  daughter  "  grievously 
vexed  with  a  devil,"  and  at  once  came  over  the  border  to  implore  Jesus  to 
have  mercy  on  her  child.  The  half  belief  that  He  was  the  Messiah  had 
spread  even  to  Tyre,  and  was  accepted,  in  her  poor  unenlightened  way,  by 
the  supplicant.  He  was  abroad  with  the  Twelve  when  she  found  Him, 
and  forthwith  entreated  Him — "  Lord,  son  of  David,  have  mercy  on  me." 
She  had  made  her  child's  trouble  her  own.  Such  an  incident,  at  a  time 
when  He  sought  to  remain  unknown,  must  have  been  very  disturbino-,  for 
it  might  put  His  enemies  on  His  track.  From  whatever  cause.  He  took 
no  notice  of  her  prayers.  But  she  would  not  be  denied,  and  persistently 
followed  Him  Avith  her  wailing  petitions,  as  He  went  along,  till  the 
Twelve,  filled  with  harsh  Jewish  prejudice,  and  mistaking  the  reason  of 
their  Master's  silence,  grew  indignant  at  her  pertinacity,  and  begged  Him 
to  send  her  away  and  stop  her  crying  after  them.     That  a  foreigner,  and, 


THE    COASTS    OF   THE    HEATHEN.  489 

above  all,  a  Caiiaanito,  accursed  of  God,  should  share  His  mercies,  -was, 
as  yet,  far  too  liberal  a  conception  for  them.  Did  not  the  Eabbis  teach 
that  the  race  built  their  houses  in  the  name  of  their  idols,  so  that  evil 
spirits  came  and  dwelt  in  them  ?  and  was  not  Beelzebub,  the  Prince  of  the 
Devils,  their  chief  god  ?  The  answer  of  Jesus  seemed  to  favour  this  bitter 
exclusiveness — "  He  was  not  sent  except  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  House 
of  Israel !  "  They  little  knew  that  His  help  was  kept  back  only  in  pity 
for  His  own  nation,  whom  mercy  to  abhorred  unclean  Canaanites  would 
embitter  against  Him  to  their  own  destruction.  It  was  vain,  however,  to 
try  to  weary  out  a  mother's  love.  Following  Him  into  the  house,  though 
He  would  fain  have  remained  unknown,  she  cast  herself  at  His  feet  and 
renewed  her  prayer.  To  the  Twelve  she  was  only  a  "  dog,"  as  the  Jews 
regarded  all  heathen.  Veiling  the  tenderness  of  His  heart  in  affected 
roughness  of  speech,  softened,  doubtless,  by  the  trembling  sympathy  of 
His  voice  and  His  gentle  looks.  He  told  her  that  the  children — Israel,  the 
sons  of  God — must  first  be  fed  before  others  could  be  noticed.  "  It  is  not 
right,"  said  He,  "  to  take  the  children's  bread  and  cast  it  to  the  dogs." 
Then,  as  now,  the  traveller,  entering  or  leaving  a  town  or  village,  had  only 
too  much  reason  to  notice  the  troops  of  lean,  sharp-nosed,  masterless  dogs, 
which  filled  the  air  with  their  cries  as  he  passed,  and  no  one  could  sit  at  a 
meal  without  the  chance  of  some  of  them  coming  in  at  the  ever-open  door 
to  pick  up  the  fragments,  always  to  be  found  where  only  the  fingers  were 
used  at  table. 

With  a  woman's  quickness,  and  a  mother's  invincible  love,  deepened  by 
irrepressible  trust  in  Him  whose  face  and  tones  so  contradicted  His  words, 
even  this  seeming  harshness  was  turned  to  a  resistless  appeal.  "Tes, 
Lord,"  said  she,  "  it  is  true  :  still  the  dogs  are  allowed  to  eat  the  fragments 
that  fall  from  the  children's  table."  She  had  conquered.  "  0  woman," 
said  Jesus,  "  great  is  thy  faith  ;  be  it  unto  thee  as  thou  wilt."  His  word 
was  enough,  and  going  her  way  she  found,  on  reaching  her  house,  that 
her  daughter,  no  longer  raving,  was  perfectly  cured,  and  lay  calmly  in  bed, 
once  more  herself.  The  Twelve  had  learned,  at  last,  that  even  heathen 
"  dogs  "  were  not  to  be  sent  away  unheard. 

How  long  Jesus  stayed  in  these  parts  is-  unknown.  It  would  seem  as  if 
this  incident  had  forced  Him  to  leave  sooner  than  He  had  proposed.  He 
did  not,  however,  return  at  once  to  Capernaum,  but  set  out  north-east- 
wards, through  the  territory  of  Sidon,  to  the  country  east  of  Jordan.  The 
Koman  road,  which  ran  over  the  richly  wooded  hills,  almost  straight  east- 
wards, from  Tyre  to  Cajsarea  Philippi,  was  too  far  to  the  south.  He  must 
have  taken  the  caravan  road,  which  still  runs  from  Sidon  on  the  south 
side  of  the  mountain  stream  Bostrenus,  climbing  the  spurs  of  Lebanon, 
with  their  woods  and  noble  mountain  scenery,  till  it  crosses  the  range, 
amidst  peaks  six  thousand  feet  high,  at  the  natural  rock-bi'idge  over  the 
deep,  rushing  Leontes.  Turning,  now,  down  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Jordan, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Hermon  Eange,  rising  9,500  feet  high  in  their 
highest  peak,  Ho,  erelong,  at  Cassarea  Philippi,  reached  the  open  country, 
Avith  a  wide  view  of  the  broad  reedy  marshes  of  Ulatha  and  Mcrom,  the 
hills  of  Galilee,  and  the  wide  uplands  of  Gaulonitis.     How  long  He  spent 


490  THE   LIFE   OP   CHRIST. 

on  the  journey  is  not  told.  Perhaps  He  stopped  by  the  way,  for  Lebanon 
was  full  then,  as  now,  of  villages  ;  perhaps  He  only  passed  through  them 
on  His  journey.  His  final  purpose  by  this  wide  circuit,  was  to  reach  His 
old  haunts  without  going  through  Galilee,  and  this  brought  Him,  appar- 
ently for  the  first  time,  to  the  wide  territory  of  the  ten  allied  free  cities — 
the  DecaiDolis. 

These  cities  were  simply  places  which  the  Jews  had  not  succeeded  in 
re-conquering,  after  their  return  from  Babylon.  Tliey  had  thus  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  heathen,  though  in  Palestine  ;  had  preserved  distinct 
municipal  government,  and  had  joined  in  a  political  alliance,  offensive  and 
defensive.  To  the  Jews  they  were  a  continual  offence,  and  they  were  the 
first  to  suffer  from  the  frenzied  fanaticism  of  the  nation  when  it  rose  in  its 
last  great  revolt.  Most  of  them,  full  of  l^usy  life,  and  adorned  with  splendid 
temples,  baths,  theatres,  and  public  buildings,  when  Jesus  passed  through 
them,  were  destined,  before  another  generation,  to  perish  by  fire  and  sword. 

Even  here  the  fame  of  the  great  Teacher  attracted  multitudes  of  Jews 
settled  all  over  the  half-foreign  district,  especially  in  its  towns  and  cities, 
and  revived  for  a  time  the  cheering  scenes  of  the  past.  The  cripple,  the 
blind,  the  dumlj,  the  deformed,  and  many  others,  variously  afflicted,  were 
either  brought  to  Him,  or  came ;  till  He  was  once  more  forced,  as  of  old,  to 
retreat  to  the  hills,  in  the  vain  effort  to  secure  quiet.  The  popular  excite- 
ment, however,  made  rest  impossible.  They  sought  and  found  Him  wher- 
ever He  might  be,  and  enjoyed  not  only  the  benefits  of  His  supernatural 
power,  but  the  richer  blessings  of  His  teaching.  Only  one  incident  is  given 
in  detail.  A  man  had  been  brought  to  Him  who  was  deaf,  and  could  only 
stammer  inarticulately ;  and  He  was  besought  to  heal  him.  From  some 
motive  not  stated.  He  varied  from  His  usual  course.  Taking  him  aside 
from  the  multitude,  pei'haps  to  have  more  freedom,  perhaps  to  avoid  their 
too  great  excitement  and  its  possibly  hurtful  political  consequences,  Ho 
put  His  fingers  into  the  man's  ears  and  touched  his  tongue  with  a  finger 
moistened  on  His  own  lips.  It  may  bo  that  these  simple  forms  were  in- 
tended to  waken  faith  in  one  who  could  hear  no  words,  for  without  the 
fitting  spirit,  the  miracle  would  not  have  been  wrought.  Looking  up  to 
heaven,  as  if  to  lift  the  thoughts  of  the  unfortunate  man  to  the  Eternal 
Father,  whose  power  alone  could  heal  him,  Jesus  then,  at  last,  uttered  the 
single  word  of  the  popular  dialect — "  Ephphatha,"  "  Be  opened  " — and  he 
was  perfectly  cured.  An  injunction  to  keep  the  miracle  j)rivate  was  of  no 
avail ;  the  whole  country  was  presently  filled  with  reports  of  it,  and  of 
other  similar  wonders. 

The  vast  concourse  attracted  by  such  scenes  may  be  imagined ;  for  in 
the  East  especially,  it  is  easy  for  the  population,  with  their  simple  wants, 
and  the  mildness  of  the  sky,  which  in  the  warm  months  invites  sleeping  in 
the  open  air  by  night,  to  camp  out  as  they  think  fit.  But,  as  often  hap- 
pens, even  in  our  own  day,  with  the  Easter  pilgrims  at  Jerusalem,  many 
found  their  provisions  run  short,  and  as  in  these  strange  and  motley  crowds 
numbers  often  die  of  want,  not  a  few  of  those  following  Jesus  mis;ht  have 
sunk  by  the  way  before  they  reached  home,  but  for  His  thoughtful  care. 
Once  more  the  crowds  were  caused  to  sit  on  the  grass,  and  were  fed  from 


THE    COASTS    OF   THE    HEATHEN.  491 

tlie  scanty  provision  found  on  tlie  sjiot,  wliicli  was  only  seven  of  the  thin 
round  loaves  of  the  country,  and  a  few  small  dried  fish  from  the  Lake  of 
Galilee.  Four  thousand  men,  besides  women  'and  children,  were  supplied 
from  this  scanty  store,  and  seven  baskets  of  fragments,  afterwards  gathered, 
attested  that  they  had  suffered  no  stint. 

Leaving  the  eastern  side  of  the  lake,  to  which  His  wanderings  had  led 
Him,  Jesus  now,  once  more,  crossed  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Magdala,  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  plain  of  Gennesarcth,  and  close  to  Capernaum.  He 
had  scarcely  reappeared  before  His  enemies  were  once  more  in  motion. 
The  Pharisees  had  already  stifled  their  dislike  of  the  Herodians,  and  had 
formed  an  alliance  with  them,  that  they  might  the  more  easily  crush  Him. 
It  marked  the  growing  malignity  of  feeling,  that  a  class  fanatically  proud 
of  their  ceremonial  and  moral  purity — a  class  from  whose  midst  had 
sprung  the  Zealots  for  the  Law,  who  abhorred  all  rule  except  that  of  a 
restored  Theocracy — should  have  banded  themselves  with  a  party  of  moral 
indifferentists,  partial  to  monarchy,  and  guilty  of  flattering  even  the  hated 
family  of  Herod.  But  a  still  more  ominous  sign  of  increasing  danger 
showed  itself  in  even  Sadducees  joining  the  Pharisees  to  make  new  at- 
tempts to  compromise  Jesus  with  the  authorities. 

The  Sadducees,  few,  but  haughty  and  j^owerful,  enjoyed  the  higlicst 
posts  ill  the  Jewish  state,  and  represented  the  Law.  Tliey  were  of  the 
priestly  caste,  and  held  the  chief  offices  in  the  hiei'ai'chy.  Their  name  was 
perhaps  derived  from  the  famous  ancient  family  of  Zadok,  of  Avhom  Ezekiel 
speaks  as  having  the  charge  of  the  altar,  and  as,  alone  of  the  sons  of  Levi, 
appointed  to  come  before  the  Eternal,  to  serve  Him.  Joshua,  the  son  of 
Jozedek,  the  comrade  of  Zerubbabel,  was  of  this  House,  so  that,  both 
before  and  after  the  Return,  it  seems  to  have  been  the  foremost  among 
the  priestly  families.  In  any  case,  the  Sadducees  of  the  times  of  Joseph  us 
and  the  Apostles  not  only  held  the  highest  Temjple  offices,  but  represented 
the  purest  Jewish  blood. 

But  this  priestly  aristocracy  were  by  no  means  the  most  zealous  for  the 
sanctuary  from  which  they  drew  their  honours  and  wealth.  They  counted 
in  their  ancestry  not  only  high  priests  like  Joshua  and  Simon  the  Just, 
but  traitors  to  their  country  like  Manasseh,  Menelaus,  and  the  younger 
Onias.  Already,  in  the  time  of  Ezra  and  Nohemiah,  they  had  given  occa- 
sion for  the  charge  that  the  highest  officials  had  been  foremost  in  breaking 
the  Theocratic  laws,  and  had  even  sought  to  turn  parts  of  the  Temple  into 
a  splendid  family  mansion.  They  had  coquetted  and  debased  their  offices 
to  win  favour  with  the  Ptolemies  and  the  Syrian  kings ;  they  had  held 
back,  in  cold,  selfish  worldliness,  from  taking  a  vigorous  part  in  the 
glorious  Maccabfean  struggle,  and  now  truckled  to  heathen  procurators,  or 
a  half  heathen  king,  to  preserve  their  honours  and  vested  interests.  To 
please  Herod,  they  had  admitted  Simon  Bocthus,  the  Alexandrian,  the 
father  of  the  king's  young  wife,  to  the  high  priesthood,  from  which  a  strict 
Jew,  Jesus  the  son  of  Phabi,  had  been  expelled,  to  make  room  for  him. 
They  had  even  shown  frank  and  hearty  submission  and  loyalty  to  Rome. 

The  nation,  with  its  chosen  religious  leaders,  the  Pharisees — the  ropre- 
sentatives  of  the  "  Saints  "  who  had  conquered  in  the  great  war  of  reli- 


492  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

gious  independence — never  forgot  the  faint-heartedness  and  treachery  of 
the  priestly  nobles  in  that  magnificent  struggle.  Their  descent  might 
secure  them  hereditary  possession  of  the  dignified  offices  of  the  Church, 
and  there  might  still  be  a  charm  in  their  historical  names  ;  but  they  were 
regarded  with  open  distrust  and  aversion  by  the  nation  and  the  Pharisees 
alike,  and  had  to  make  many  concessions  to  Pharisaic  rules  to  protect 
themselves  from  actual  violence. 

The  strict  fanatical  heads  of  the  synagogue — the  leaders  of  the  people— 
and  the  cold  and  polished  Temple  aristocracy,  were  thus  bitterly  opposed, 
and  it  added  to  the  keenness  of  the  dislike  that  the  dreams  by  the  Eab- 
binical,  or  Pharrsaic  party,  of  a  restored  Theocracy,  could  only  be  realized 
through  the  existing  organization  of  the  priesthood,  of  v/hich  the  indif- 
ferent Sadducees  had  the  control. 

Theological  hatred,  the  bitterest  of  all  passions,  added  additional  in- 
tensity to  this  political  opposition.  The  Sadducees  had  no  inclination  to 
be  taught  their  duty  l)y  the  Eabbis  of  village  synagogues,  and  rejected 
the  whole  body  of  Pharisaic  tradition  and  jurisprudence,  taking  for  their 
only  authority  the  written  Law  of  Moses,  though  to  this  were  generally 
added  some  traditions  of  their  own.  As  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the 
Theocracy,  and  members  of  families  which  had  officiated  in  the  Temple  of 
Solomon  itself,  they  disdained  to  be  taught  what  was  lawful  in  Israel,  or 
to  accept  the  hair-splitting  refinements  of  the  democratic  and  puritan 
Pharisees.  To  the  constantly  increasing  decisions  and  requirements  of 
the  Rabbis,  they  stolidly  opi)osed  the  venerable  letter  of  the  ancient  Law. 
That  their  creed  was  cold  and  rationalistic,  compared  to  that  of  the  Rabbis, 
was,  perhaps,  the  result  of  this  attitude,  but  was  not  its  cause.  The  in- 
stinctive conservatism  of  "  the  first  in  rank,"  inevitably  took  its  stand  on 
the  original  documents  of  the  Law  in  opposition  to  the  heated  exaggerations 
of  the  plebeian  schoolmen.  Both  sides  vaunted  their  orthodoxy.  The 
Sadducees  were  as  deeply  committed  to  support  the  Theocracy  as  their 
popular  rivals,  for  it  was  the  basis  of  their  dignities,  their  wealth,  and  even 
their  existence.  Fierce  controversies,  often  culminating  in  bloodshed, 
marked  the  equal  devotion  of  both  to  their  respective  opinions,  and  these 
opinions  themselves  illustrated  the  position  of  the  two  parties.  The 
Sadducees  uniformly  fell  back  on  the  letter  of  the  Law,  the  prescrij^tive 
rights  of  the  Temple,  and  the  glory  of  the  priesthood ;  the  Pharisees,  on 
the  other  hand,  not  only  maintained  the  authority  of  the  Rabbinical  tradi- 
tions, the  value  of  sacred  acts  apart  from  the  interposition  of  the  jariest, 
but  advocated  jiopular  interests  generally. 

The  contrast  between  the  spirit  of  the  two  parties  showed  itself  pro- 
minently in  the  harsh  tenacity  with  which  the  Temple  aristocracy  held  to 
the  letter  of  the  Mosaic  Law  in  its  penalties,  as  opposed  to  the  milder 
spirit  in  which  the  Pliarisees  interpreted  them,  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  times.  The  Pharisees,  for  example,  exj^lained  the  Mosaic 
demand— an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth — metaphorically,  and 
allowed  recompense  to  be  made  in  money,  but  their  rivals  insisted  on  exact 
compliance.  The  Sadducees  required  that  the  widow  should  literally  spit 
in  the  face  of  the  brother-in-law  who  refused  her  the  Levirate  marriage 


THE    COASTS    OF    THE    HEATHEN.  403 

rights,  but  it  was  ciiougli  for  the  Pharisees  that  she  spat  on  llie  ground 
before  him.  The  Pharisees  iiermitted  the  carcass  of  a  beast  that  had  died 
to  be  used  for  any  other  purpose  than  food,  to  save  loss  to  the  owner,  but 
the  Sadducees  denounced  the  penalties  of  unclcauness  on  so  lax  a  practice. 
They  sternly  required  a  false  witness  to  be  put  to  death,  according  to  the 
letter  of  the  Law,  even  if  his  testimony  had  done  the  accused  no  injury, 
and  many  did  not  even  shrink  from  carrying  out  the  reasoning  of  the 
Rabl)is,  that,  as  two  witnesses  were  always  required  to  condemn  the  ac- 
cused, both  witnesses  should  always  be  executed  when  any  jierjury  had 
been  committed  in  the  case. 

This  blind  insistence  on  the  letter  of  laws  wliich  ages  had  made  obsolete, 
fixed  on  the  Sadducees  the  name  of  "The  Condemning  Judges,"  and 
Josephus  testifies  that  they  were  more  ruthless  in  their  judicial  decisions 
than  any  other  Jews.  The  Pharisees,  on  the  other  hand,  had  for  their 
axiom  the  saying  of  Joshua  Ben  Perachia — "  Judge  everything  on  the 
presumption  of  innocence ; "  or  that  of  Hillel — "  Put  yourself  in  your 
neighbour's  place  before  you  judge  him."  Hence,  a  prisoner  congratulated 
himself  when  he  saw  on  his  judges,  opposite  him,  the  broad  phylactery  of 
the  Pharisee,  and  not  the  white  robe  of  the  priestly  Sadducee.  Both  our 
Lord  and  St.  Paul  had  the  multitude  stirred  up  against  them  by  the 
Pharisees,  but  they  were  condemned  by  Sadducee  judges,  and  it  was  Sad- 
ducee judges  who  murdered  St.  James. 

This  relentless  ferocity  of  priestly  Houses,  who  rested  on  the  favour  of 
the  rich  and  titled  few,  was  dictated  only  by  the  class  interests  of  the 
Temple  nobility,  whose  claims  and  privileges  could  not  be  justified  except 
by  the  blind  maintenance  of  things  as  they  were.  Resolute  unyielding 
immobility  was  their  only  safety  ;  the  least  innovation  seemed  an  omen  of 
revolution. 

But  there  were  even  deeper  grounds  of  dislike  and  opposition.  The 
Pliarisees,  as  the  hereditary  representatives  of  puritans  who  had  delivered 
the  nation  in  the  great  struggle  against  Syria,  looked  forward  with  touch- 
ing though  fanatical  yearning,  to  .the  realization  of  the  prophecies  of 
Daniel,  which,  as  they  understood  them,  promised  that  Israel,  under  the 
Messiah,  and  with  it,  themselves,  should  be  raised  "  to  dominion,  and  gloiyj 
and  a  kingdom ;  that  all  ])eoples,  nations,  and  languages  should  serve  Him, 
and  that  His  kingdom  should  be  everlasting."  They  believed  that  this 
national  triumph  would  be  inaugurated  so  soon  as  Israel,  on  its  part, 
carried  out  to  the  full  the  requirements  of  the  ceremonial  law,  as  expounded 
in  their  traditions.  It  Avas  a  matter  of  formal  covenant,  in  which  the  truth 
and  righteousness — that  is,  the  justice,  of  Jehovah  were  involved.  The 
morals  they  demanded  might  be  only  mechanical,  and  their  observances  a 
mere  slavery  to  rites  and  forms  ;  but  they  believed  that  if  they  fulfilled 
their  part,  God  must  needs  fulfil  His,  and  they  strove  hard  to  make  the 
nation,  like  themselves,  "  blameless,"  touching  this  righteousness  ;  that 
they  might  claim  Divine  interposition  as  a  right.  The  zeal  of  the  Pharisee 
for  the  Law  was,  thus,  a  more  hired  service,  with  all  the  restlessnes.s, 
exaggeration,  emulation,  and  moral  impurity,  inseparable  from  a  mer- 
cenary spirit. 


494      ■  THE   LIFE    OE   CHRIST. 

To  this  dream  of  tiae  future,  the  Sadducees  opposed  a  stolid  and  con- 
temptuous indifference.  Enjoying  the  honours  and  good  things  of  the 
world,  they  had  no  taste  for  a  revolution  which  should  introduce,  they 
knew  not  what,  in  the  place  of  a  state  of  things  with  which  they  were 
quite  contented.  Their  fathers  had  had  no  such  ideas,  and  the  sons  ridi- 
culed them.  They  not  only  laughed  aside  the  Pharisaic  notion  of  righteous- 
ness, as  identified  with  a  life  of  minute  and  endless  observance,  but  fell 
back  on  the  Mosaic  Law,  and  mocked  at  the  Messianic  hope  from  which 
the  zeal  of  their  rivals  had  sprung.  "  The  Sadducees,"  says  Joscphus, 
"  believe  that  the  soul  dies  with  the  body,  and  recognise  no  authority  but 
that  of  the  LaAV.  Good  was  to  be  done  for  its  own  sake,  not  for  reward  in 
the  Messianic  kingdom,  or  at  the  resurrection  of  the  dead."  "  The  Sad- 
ducees," says  Eabbi  JSTathan,  "  use  daily,  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  not  for 
pride,  but  because  the  Pharisees  torment  themselves  in  this  life,  though 
they  will  have  nothing  in  the  next."  As  to  the  world  to  come,  they  left  it 
doubtful,  maintaining,  in  opposition  to  the  Pharisees,  if  the  words  in  the 
Talmud  be  not  an  interpolation,  that  it  could  not  be  proved  from  the  Books 
of  Moses.  They  even  went  the  length  of  inventing  difficulties  which  they 
supposed  involved  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  "  They  believe  neither 
in  the  resurrection,  nor  in  angel,  nor  spirit,  but  the  Pharisees  confess 
both,"  says  St.  Luke. 

To  all  this  was  added  the  embitterment  of  opposite  views  on  the  great 
subject  of  human  freedom  and  Divine  foreknowledge.  Like  all  puritans, 
the  Pharisees  exalted  the  latter  though  they  did  not  deny  the  former.  They 
had  a  profound  belief  in  Providence,  understanding  by  it  that  they  them- 
selves were  the  favourites  of  Jehovah,  and  could  count  on  His  taking  their 
side.  "  The  Sadducees,"  says  Josephus,  "  maintain  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  predestinatioii,  and  deny  that  human  affairs  are  regulated  by  it, 
maintaining  that  our  destiny  rests  with  ourselves ;  that  we  are  the  cause 
of  our  own  good  fortune,  and  bring  evil  on  us  by  our  own  folly."  They 
were,  in  fact,  mere  men  of  the  world,  believing  only  in  the  present ;  the 
Pharisees  were  mystics,  to  whom  the  future  and  the  supernatural  were 
all-important. 

The  nation  zealously  supported  the  Pharisees.  The  spirit  of  the  age 
was  against  the  Sadducees.  The  multitude  disliked  to  hear  that  what  the 
Maccabfeans  had  defended  with  their  blood  was  uncanonical.  They  yielded 
cheerfully  to  the  heavy  yoke  of  the  Pharisaic  Rabbis,  for,  the  more  burden- 
some the  duties  required,  the  greater  the  future  reward  for  performance. 
The  Pharisees,  moreover,  were  part  of  the  people,  mingled  habitually  with 
them  as  their  spiritual  guides,  and  were  the  examples  of  exact  obedience 
to  their  own  precepts.  Their  Messianic  dreams  were  of  national  glory,  and 
thus  the  crowd  saw  in  them  the  representatives  of  their  own  fondest 
aspirations.  The  Sadducees— isolated,  haughty,  harsh,  and  unnational — 
were  hated ;  their  rivals  honoured  and  followed.  The  extravagances  and 
the  hypocrisy  of  some  might  be  ridiculed,  but  they  were  the  accepted 
popular  leaders. 

Indeed,  apart  from  all  other  considerations,  the  fact  that  the  Sadducees 
supported   zealously   every  government   iu  turn,  was  enough  to  set  the 


THE    COASTS   OF   THE   HEATHEN.  495 

people  agaiiist  them.  Instead  of  this,  the  Pharisees  shared  and  fostered 
the  patriotic  and  religious  abhorrence  of  the  Eoman  supremacy,  and  were 
sworn  enemies  of  the  hated  Herodian  family.  The  result  was  that,  in  the 
words  of  Josephus,  "  the  Pharisees  had  such  an  influence  with  the  people, 
that  nothing  could  be  done  about  Divine  worship,  prayers,  or  sacrifices, 
except  according  to  their  wishes  and  rules,  for  the  community  believed 
they  sought  only  the  loftiest  and  worthiest  aims  alike  in  word  and  deed. 
The  Sadducees  were  few  in  number ;  and  thougli  they  belonged  to  the 
highest  ranks,  had  so  little  influence,  that  when  elected  to  office,  they  were 
foi'ced  to  comply  with  the  ritual  of  the  Pharisees  from  fear  of  the  people." 

There  were,  doubtless,  many  priests  who  were  not  Sadducees — men 
serving  God  humljly;  devoted  to  their  sacred  duties,  and  living  in  full 
sjanpathy  of  thought  and  life  with  the  Pharisees.  In  the  disputes  with 
Jesus,  we  may  be  sure  that  many  such  Pharisaic  priests — the  great  com- 
pany, perhaps,  who,  within  a  short  time  after  His  death,  became  "  obedient 
to  the  Faith  " — took  no  part  in  the  fierce  malignity  of  their  brethren.  But 
now,  for  the  first  time,  the  Sadducees — haughty  clerical  aristocrats  of  the 
Temple— joined  with  the  hated  vulgar  Pharisees  of  the  synagogue  to  ac- 
complish the  destruction  of  the  new  Teacher.  It  was  the  most  ominous 
sign  of  the  beginning  of  the  cud  that  had  yet  appeared. 

Eager  for  a  fresh  dispute,  the  strange  allies,  very  likely  fresh  from 
.Jerusalem,  no  sooner  found  that  He  had  returned,  than  they  sallied  forth 
to  open  a  discussion.  "  You  claim,"  said  they,  "  to  be  a  teacher  come  from 
God,  and  have  given  many  '  signs '  that  you  are  so  in  the  miracles  you 
have  performed.  But  all  these  signs  have  been  untrustworthy,  for  we 
know  that  the  earth  and  even  the  air  is  filled  with  demons.  It  is  quite 
])ossible  that  the  prince  of  the  devils,  to  deceive  men  into  supporting  your 
claims,  may  have  given  you  power  for  a  time  over  these  demons,  and  thus 
all  that  you  have  done  may  be  only  a  dark  plot  to  ruin  us.  The  Egyptian 
magicians  did  miracles,  but  our  fathers  refused  to  believe  even  many  of 
the  wonders  wrought  by  Moses,  for  they  might  have  been  achieved  only 
])y  magic  and  incantations.  A  sign  from  heaven,  however,  is  different. 
It  is  beyond  the  power  of  devils  :  '  they  can  neither  shine  like  the'sun,  nor 
give  light  like  the  moon,  nor  give  rain  unto  men.'  Our  Kabbis  tell  us 
that  when  the  King-Messias  comes,  and  the  great  war  between  Gog  and 
Magog  begins,  signs  from  heaven  will  appear.  "We  are  not  to  expect  Him 
till  a  rainbow  has  spanned  the  world  and  filled  it  with  light.  Give  us 
bread  from  heaveii,  as  Moses  did;  or  signs  in  the  sun  and  moon,  like 
Joshua;  or  call  down  thunder  and  hail,  like  Samuel;  or  fire  and  rain,  like 
Elijah ;  or  make  the  sun  turn  back,  like  Isaiah ;  or  lot  us  hear  the  Bath 
Jvol  which  came  to  Simon  the  Just — that  ayc  may  believe  you." 

But  Jesus  knew  the  men  with  whom  He  had  to  do,  and  would  liold  as 
little  communication  with  them  as  possiljle.  The  tempter  had  long  before 
urged  Him  to  make  a  vain  display  of  His  supernatural  jiower  in  support 
of  His  claims ;  but  as  it  was  monstrous  that  miracles  should  be  thrown 
away  on  the  prince  of  dai-kness,  or  wrought  at  his  will,  it  was  no  less  so 
to  work  them  at  the  bidding  of  men  filled  with  his  spirit.  The  worth  of 
proof  depends  on  the  openness  to  conviction.     He  had  already  said  that 


J:96  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

to  cast  pearls  l:)efore  wild  swine  was  only  to  invite  tliem  to  turn  and  rend 
you.  No  "  sign  "  could  avail  where  there  was  no  sympathy.  The  truth 
He  came  to  proclaim  appealed  to  the  heart,  and  must  be  its  own  evidence, 
winning  its  way,  by  its  own  Divine  beauty,  into  humble  and  ready  breasts. 
External  proofs  could  only  establish  external  facts. 

With  biting  irony  He  turned  on  them  in  a  few  brief  incisive  sentences. 
"  How  is  it  that  ye,  who  are  so  skilled  in  the  signs  of  the  heavens,  are  so 
dull  to  read  those  around  you  ?  You  watch  the  sky,  and  talk  of  signs  in 
it.  In  the  evening  you  say,  '  Fair  weather,  for  the  sky  is  red ; '  and  in  the 
morning,  '  Foul  weather  to-day,  for  the  sky  is  red  and  lowering.'  When 
you  see  a  cloud  rising  in  the  west,  you  say, '  There  comes  a  shower ; '  when 
you  see  a  south  wind  blowing,  you  say  '  There  will  be  heat.'  You  pretend 
to  tell,  by  the  way  the  smoke  blows  on  the  last  evening  of  the  Feast  of 
Tabernacles,  what  weather  there  will  be  for  the  year.  If  it  turn  north- 
ward, you  say  there  will  be  much  rain,  and  the  poor  will  rejoice ;  if  it  turn 
south,  you  say  that  the  rich  will  rejoice  and  the  poor  mourn,  for  there  will 
be  little  rain ;  if  it  turn  eastward,  all  will  rejoice ;  if  westward,  all  mourn. 
If  God  have  been  so  gracious  to  men  as  to  give  signs  of  fair  weather,  of 
wind,  and  of  rain,  how  much  more  must  He  have  given  signs  of  the  near 
approach  of  the  Messiah  ?  You  are  diligent  to  excess  in  studying  the  sky, 
Ijut  you  ask  signs  of  my  being  the  Messiah,  as  if  none  had  been  given, 
when  many  unmistakable  ones  invite  you  in  your  own  Scriptures,  in  the 
events  of  the  day,  the  j)reaching  of  John,  and  in  my  own  miracles,  teaching, 
and  life.  An  evil  and  adulterous  generation  seeks  after  a  si  en  of  the 
approach  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  of  its  own  choosing,  while  it  is  blind  to 
those  around  it,  that  the  Messiah  must  come,  if  the  nation  is  not  to  jserish. 
I  will  give  you  no  sign  but  that  of  the  prophet  Jonah  ;  for  as  the  warning 
of  his  words  was  the  only  one  given  to  the  Ninevites,  my  preaching  will 
be  the  only  sign  given  to  you.  It  is  its  own  evidence.  Apart  from  my 
miracles,  my  life  and  the  Divine  and  heavenly  truth  I  preach,  are  sufficient 
proof  that  I  am  sent  by  God.  Hereafter,  indeed,  Jonah  will  become  a 
sign  in  another  sense ;  for  as  He  was  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 
whale's  belly,  so  I,  when  put  to  death,  shall  be  the  same  time  in  the 
grave." 

So  saying,  He  left  them.  It  was  clearly  unsafe  to  stay  in  their  neigh- 
bourhood. Henceforth  He  could  only  lead  a  fugitive  outlawed  life,  and 
with  a  deep  sigh  at  the  hopelessness  of  winning  over  men  J^lindcd  by 
prejudice  and  hardened  in  heart,  He  entered  the  boat  once  more  and 
crossed  the  lake  to  the  lously  aiid  secure  eastern  side. 


CHAPTEE  XLVI. 

IN   FLIGHT   ONCE   MOUE. 

rpHE  renewed  attempt  to  involve  Jesus  in  a  damaging   dispute  had 

failed.     He  had  not  made  an  ostentatious   display  of  supernatural 

power  at  the  bidding  of  His  enemies,  but  had  turned  sharply  on  them,  and 


IN   FLIGHT    ONCE    MORE.  497 

had  left  them  discomfited  before  the  multitude.  They  had  hoped  to  have 
depreciated  Him,  as  a  mere  unauthorized  intruder  into  the  office  of  Eabbi, 
and  to  have  had  an  easy  triumph,  but  His  modest,  yet  dignified  and  keen 
retort,  had  put  them  to  shame.  Their  bitterness  against  One,  now  hat-d 
and  feared  more  than  evei",  was  so  much  the  greater. 

His  departure  that  autumn  evening  might  well  have  saddened  His  heart. 
It  was  His  final  rejection  on  the  very  spot  where  He  had  laboured  most, 
and  He  was  leaving  it,  to  return  indeed,  for  a  passing  visit,  biit  never  to 
appear  again  publicly,  or  to  teach  or  work  miracles.  As  the  boat  swept 
out  into  the  lake,  and  the  whole  scene  opened  before  Him — the  white 
beach,  the  green  plain,  the  wooded  hills  behind,  the  white  houses  reflected 
in  the  water,  and  over  them  the  stately  synagogue,  in  which  He  had  taught 
so  often  and  done  such  mighty  acts — it  was  no  wonder  that  Ho  sighed 
deeply  in  spirit,  borne  down  by  the  thought  of  the  darkened  mind,  the 
perverted  conscience,  and  the  stony  heart  that  had  rejected  the  things  of 
their  peace. 

Sitting  in  the  boat  amidst  His  disciples  He  was  still  full  of  such 
thoughts.  They  had  heard  His  words  to  His  enemies,  but  they  did  not 
seem  to  have  realized  all  the  danger  implied  in  the  incident.  Many  had 
been  led  away  from  Him  by  the  deceitful  slanders,  or  specious  arguments 
of  the  hierarchical  party,  and  it  was  well  that  they  should  be  put  on  their 
guard. 

"  Take  heed,  beware,"  said  He  solemnly,  "  of  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees 
and  Sadducees,  and  of  the  party  of  Herod."  It  so  hapjDcned,  however, 
that  in  their  hurried  flight,  having  had  no  time  to  lay  in  provisions,  there 
was  only  one  loaf  in  the  boat,  and  with  the  childishness  of  uneducated 
minds,  they  at  once  fancied  He  referred  to  their  having  come  without 
bread.  At  the  well  of  Samaria  they  had  thought  He  referred  to  common 
food  when  He  spoke  of  the  meat  of  the  soul;  they  had  been  as  dull  in 
catching  the  metaphor  of  His  flesh  being  the  bread  of  life,  and  hereafter 
they  were  to  think  only  of  natural  rest  when  He  spoke  of  the  dead  Lazarus 
as  sleeping.  Reflection,  like  continuity  of  thought,  comes  onlj'  with  mental 
training.  The  uncultured  mind,  whether  old  or  young,  learns  slowly. 
They  might  have  remembered,  from  the  twice  repeated  miraculous  feed- 
ings of  the  multitude,  that  it  was  indifferent  how  little  they  had  with  them 
when  their  Master  Avas  in  their  midst,  but  it  needs  a  thoughtfulness 
and  depth  beyond  that  of  average  fishermen  and  peasants,  such  as  they 
were,  to  reason  and  reflect.  "  He  tells  us,"  they  whispered,  "  that  if  we 
buy  bread  from  a  Pharisee  or  a  Sadducee,  the  bread  would  defile  us,  as 
it  would  if  we  bought  it  from  a  Samaritan."  So  rude  was  the  spiritual 
material  from  which  Jesus  had  to  create  the  founders  of  Christianity  ! 

"  0  ye  of  little  faith,"  interrupted  He,  "  why  do  ye  reason  among  your- 
selves because  ye  have  no  loaves  ?  Are  your  hearts  hardened  that  you 
cannot  understand  ?  Have  you  forgotten  when  I  broke  the  five  loaves 
among  the  five  thousand,  and  the  seven  among  the  four  thousand,  how 
many  baskets  and  wallets  full  of  fragments  ye  took  up  ?  How  could  you 
think  you  would  ever  want  after  that,  whether  we  had  bread  with  us  or 
not  ?     Do  you  not  see  that  when  I  spoke  of  leaven  I  was  thinking  not 

K    K 


498  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

of  loaves  but  of  insti'uction  ?  Beware  of  the  teaching  of  the  Pharisees, 
Sadducees,  and  Herodians,  about  me  or  about  religion.  They  would 
gladly  fill  your  minds  with  slanders  and  misleading  fancies ;  draw  you 
away  from  me,  and  corrupt  your  hearts  by  their  superstition  and  religious 
acting,  and  self-righteous  pride,  or  by  their  worldliness  and  unbelief." 

The  course  of  the  boat  was  directed  to  the  head  of  the  lake,  to  Bethsaida, 
newly  re-named  Julias  by  the  Tetrarch  Philip,  in  honour  of  the  daughter 
of  Augustus,  his  patron.     The  old  name  of  the  village  had  not  yet,  how- 
ever, been  lost.     It  was  on  the  route  to  the  district  to  which  Jesus  was 
hurrying,  and  might  well  have  detained  Him  as  a  resting  place  under 
other  circumstances.     Lying  on  the  green  hill  above  the  plain  of  Batiha — 
the  scene  of  the  miraculous  feeding— it  overlooked,  at  a  short  distance, 
the  entrance  of  the  Jordan  into  the  lake.     To  the  west  stretched  the  wide 
tract  of  black  basalt,  rough  and  barren,  reaching  from  the  marshes  of 
Jordan — dotted  with  buffaloes  luxuriating  in  the  mire — to  Chorazin  and 
Capernaum.    To  the  south  rose  the  bare  table-land  on  the  east  of  the  lake, 
and  the  town  itself,  boasting  the  splendid  tomb  just  built  l)y  Philip,  for 
his  own  use,  was  not  wanting  in  beauty.     But  Jesus  had  no  leisure  to  stay, 
nor  was  there  an  inducement  in  any  kindly  bearing  of  the  population 
towards  Him.     He  had  often  taught  in  their  streets  and  synagogue,  and 
had  lived  in  their  houses,  and  done  many  mighty  works  before  them,  yet, 
like  the  people  of  Chorazin  and  Capernaum,  they  had  listened  to  their 
Rabbis  rather  than  to  Him,  and  had  refused  to  repent.     There  still,  how- 
ever, were  some  who  had  better  thoughts,  and  these,  seeing  Plim  enter  the 
town,  hurriedly  brought  a  blind  man,  that  He  might  touch  and  heal  him. 
Even  in  a  jilace  that  would  not  hear  Him,  His  tender  heart  could  not 
withhold  its  pity.     It  would  have  attracted  notice  when  it  was  most  to  be 
avoided  had  He  healed  the  sufferer  in  the  public  street,  and,  therefore, 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  He  led  him  into  the  fields  outside.     The  cure 
might  have  been  wrought  by  a  word,  but  He  chose  to  use  the  same  simple 
form  as  in  the  case  of  the  dumb  man  in  the  Decapolis.    Touching  the  blind 
eyes  with  His  moistened  finger,  perhaps  to  arrest  the  wandering  thoughts 
and  predispose  him  to  trust  in  the  Healer,  He  asked  the  blind  man  "  if  he 
saw  aught  ?  "     The  supernatural  power  of  the  touch  had  had  due  effect. 
With  upturned  eyes,  the  hitherto  blind  could  see  indistinctly.    Men  moved 
before  him,  in  undefined  haze,  like  trees.     The  partial  cure  must  have 
strengthened  his  faith,  and  thus  prepared   him  for  perfect  restoration. 
Another  touch  and  he  could  see  clearly,  far  and  near.     "  Go  to  your  home," 
said  Jesus,  "  without  returning  to  the  town,  and  tell  no  one  about  it."    The 
less  publicity  given  to  His  acts  or  words,  the  safer  for  Christ. 

The  retreat  to  which  Jesus  was  making  was  the  town  of  Cassarea  Philippi. 
It  lay  on  the  north-east  of  the  reedy  and  marshy  plain  of  El  Huleh.  It 
was  close  to  Dan,  the  extreme  north  of  the  bounds  of  ancient  Israel,  as 
Beersheba  was  the  extreme  south.  Almost  on  a  line  with  Tyre,  it  was 
thus,  far  out  of  the  reach  of  the  Eabbis  and  High  Priests.  A  town,  Baal- 
Gad— named  from  the  Canaanite  god  of  fortune— had  occupied  the  site 
from  immemorial  antiquity;  but  Philip  having  rebuilt  it  splendidly,  three 
years  before  Christ's  birth,  had  called  it  Ca^sarea,  in  honour  of  Augustus, 


IN   FLIGHT    ONCE    MORE.  499 

in  accordance  with  the  prevailing  flattery  of  the  Emperor.  It  had  been 
the  pleasure  of  his  peaceful  reign  to  adorn  it  with  altars,  votive  images, 
and  statues,  and  his  own  name  had  been  added  by  the  people,  to  distinguish 
it  from  the  Csesarea  on  the  sea-coast.  Nineteen  years  before  Christ's 
birth,  Herod  the  Great,  Philip's  father,  in  grateful  acknowledgment  of 
the  gift  of  the  districts  of  Paulas  and  Ulatha,  adorned  the  spot  with  a 
grand  temple  of  white  marble,  dedicated  to  the  Emperor,  who,  while  still 
alive,  was  thus  deified  by  the  king  of  the  Jews.  The  worship  of  the  sheji- 
herd  god  Pan,  to  whom  a  cave  out  of  which  burst  the  waters  of  the  Jordan, 
was  sacred,  had  given  its  second  name,  Pauias — now,  Bauias — to  the  place. 
It  was  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  ia  the  Holy  Land,  built  on  a  terrace  of 
rock,  part  of  the  range  of  Hermon,  which  rose  behind  it  seven  or  eight 
thousand  feet.  Countless  streams  niurmured  down  the  slopes,  amidst  a 
unique  richness  and  variety  oi  flower,  and  shrub,  and  tree.  The  chief 
source  of  the  Jordan  still  bursts  in  a  full  silver-clear  stream  from  a 
bottomless  depth  of  water,  iu  the  old  cave  of  Pan,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, beneath  a  high  perpendicular  wall  of  rock,  adorned  with  niches  once 
filled  with  marble  Naiads  of  the  stream  and  Satja-s  of  the  woods,  and  with 
countless  votive  tablets ;  but  now  strewn  round  with  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  temple  of  the  god.  Thick  woods  still  shade  the  channel  of  the 
young  river.  Oaks  and  olive  groves  alternate  with  pastures  and  fields 
of  grain,  and  high  over  all  rises  the  old  castle  of  Banias,  perhaps  the 
"Tower  of  Lebanon  that  looketli  towards  Damascus,"  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon. 

To  this  scene  Jesus  had  now  come,  and  might  have  fouiid  in  the  beauty 
of  nature  a  balm  for  His  tired  and  stricken  heart,  had  He  been  free  to 
think  of  such  outward  charms.  From  the  hill  on  which  the  town  stood — 
one  of  the  lower  spurs  of  Hermon— the  view  ranged  over  all  northern 
Palestine,  from  the  plains  of  Phenicia  to  the  hills  of  Samaria.  In  the 
noi"th-west  rose  the  dark  gigantic  mountain  forms  of  Lebanon ;  to  the 
south  stretched  out  the  rich  table-land  of  the  Hauraii.  From  Hermon, 
not  from  Zion,  or  the  Mount  of  Olives,  one  beholds  "the  good  land,  the 
land  of  brooks,  of  waters,  of  fountains,  of  depths  that  spring  out  of  the 
valleys  and  hills  ;  a  laud  of  wheat  and  barley,  and  vines,  and  fig-trees,  and 
pomegranates;  a  land  of  oil  olive  and  honey."  Far  and  near  the  surpass- 
ingly fruitful  landscape  was  watered  by  sparkling  brooks  flowing  into 
the  main  stream  of  Jordan,  here  only  twenty  steps  broad.  So  far  back  as 
the  days  of  the  Judges,  the  children  of  Dan,  wandering  hither  from  the 
south,  had  found  it  wanting  iu  nothing  that  earth  could  give.  Wheat 
fields  alternated  with  fields  of  barley,  maize,  sesame,  and  rice,  olive 
orchards,  meadows,  and  flowery  pastures — the  delight  of  countless  bees ; 
and  the  slopes  were  covered  with  woods,  vocal  with  the  songs  of  birds. 

But  even  Jesus  had  few  thoughts,  at  such  a  time,  for  mere  rural  glories. 
He  was  a  fugitive  and  outlaw,  rejected  by  the  nation  He  had  come  to 
redeem;  safe  only  because  He  was  outside  the  bounds  of  Israel,  in  a 
heathen  region.  It  was  clear  that  His  public  work  was  virtually  over,  for 
even  in  Galilee,  where  multitudes  had  followed  Him,  His  popularity  had 
waned    under  the   calumnies  of   the  Raljbis,  and   His  steady  refusal  to 


500  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

sanction  the  popular  conception  of  the  Messiah.  From  the  moment  they 
had  seen  that  lie  sought  only  spiritual  aims,  and  was  not  a  second  Judas 
the  Galilasan,  they  had  gone  back  to  their  own  teachers,  who  favoured  the 
national  views,  and  instead  of  demanding  repentance  and  a  new  life, 
recognised  their  race  as  the  favourites  of  Jehovah,  and  the  predestined 
heirs  of  the  Messiah's  Kingdom.  The  death  of  the  Baptist  foretold 
Christ's  own  fate.  The  crisis  of  His  life  had  come.  If  He  had  won  few 
true  followers.  He  had  securely  founded  the  ITew  Kingdom  of  God.  It 
might  indeed,  as  yet,  be  but  a  seed  in  the  great  field  of  the  world,  or  a 
speck  of  leaven  in  the  vast  mass  of  humanity ;  but  the  seed  would  multiply 
itself  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  the  leaven  would  slowly  but  surely 
spread,  age  after  age,  thi-ough  the  whole  race  of  man.  His  own  death 
would  now  no  longer  be  fatal  to  the  New  Society ;  the  germ  of  its  fullest 
development  would  survive  in  the  bosom  of  the  Twelve,  and  of  the  other 
faithful  souls  who  had  received  Him. 

But  it  was  necessary  that  the  band,  to  whom  the  spread  of  His  Kingdom 
after  His  death  would  be  entrusted,  should  be  confirmed  in  their  faith,  and 
enlightened  by  explicit  disclosures  of  His  spiritual  dignity  and  His  re- 
lations to  themselves.  There  was  much,  even  in  their  humble  and  honest 
hearts,  that  needed  coi'rection  and  elevation.  They  were  Jews,  trained  in 
the  theology  of  His  enemies,  and  still  unconsciously  influenced  by  it  to  a 
great  extent. 

The  conceptions  of  Jesus  respecting  His  kingdom  were  utterly  different 
from  theirs,  and  therefore  He  had  not,  as  yet,  formally  claimed  the  title  of 
Messiah,  even  in  the  circle  of  the  Twelve,  though  He  had  never  hesitated 
to  accept  Messianic  homage  when  it  was  offered.  Once,  to  the  Samaritan 
woman,  and  once,  by  silent  assent,  to  the  Twelve,  He  had  assumed  the 
awful  dignity,  and  the  whole  spirit  of  His  teaching  and  life  implied  His 
claim  to  it.  But,  even  to  the  Apostles,  there  had  been  a  reticence  and 
caution,  that  He  might  not  anticipate  the  development  of  their  religious 
nature,  and  disclose  a  mystery  they  were,  as  yet,  unable  to  receive.  Before 
the  people  at  large  He  had  never  assumed  the  Messiahship,  for,  with  their 
gross  political  ideas,  to  have  done  so  would  have  been  to  bring  Himself 
into  collision  with  the  State  at  once.  He  had  even,  as  far  as  possible,  kept 
His  supernatural  work  in  the  background,  shunning  publicity  as  a  worker 
of  miracles,  and  leaving  the  progress  of  His  Kingdom  rather  to  the  Divine 
beauty  of  His  teaching  and  life.  To  have  put  Himself  forward,  from  the 
first,  as  the  Messiah,  would  have  closed  at  once  all  avenues  of  influence ; 
for  He  was  in  every  way  the  very  opposite  of  the  national  ideal.  They  ex- 
pected their  race  to  be  exalted  to  supreme  honour  and  power  ;  He  sought 
to  humble  them  to  the  lowliest  contrition.  They  expected  that,  under  the 
Messiah,  the  heathen  Avould  bow  before  Israel ;  He  proclaimed  that  the 
heathen  were  to  have  equal  rank  and  rights  with  "  the  people  of  God." 
They  expected  that  the  traditions  of  the  Eabbis,  with  their  infinite  obser- 
vances, were  to  be  made  the  law  for  all  countries  and  ages ;  He  announced 
their  utter  abrogation,  and  the  establishment,  with  men  at  large,  of  a  new 
covenant  of  filial  liberty,  in  place  of  the  old  covenant  with  a  single  people. 
They  expected  a  sudden  and  violent  political  convulsion,  heralded  by  a  dis. 


IN   FLIGHT    ONCE    MOEE.  501 

tm-bance  of  the  order  of  nature  by  unprecedented  signs  and  wonders  in 
the  heavens  and  on  earth,  and  of  the  liistory  of  nations  ;  He  taught  that 
the  Messianic  Kingdom  would  be  brought  about  only  by  the  silent  might 
of  words,  and  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  renewing  all  natural  and  moral  re- 
lations of  men,  but  only  by  a  slow  and  well-nigh  imperceptible  advance. 
Not  only  the  nation,  but  even  the  Twelve,  had  utterly  to  unlearn  the  fixed 
ideas  of  the  past,  before  a  spiritual  IMessiahship  could  be  welcome  to  them. 
How  difficult  that  was,  is  shown  by  the  request  of  Salome,  the  mother  of 
James  and  John,  after  the  disciples  had  openly  acknowledged  their  Leader 
as  the  Messiah,  that  her  two  sons  should  sit  in  the  high  places  of  honour, 
on  the  right  and  left  of  the  Messianic  throne. 

In  the  conscious  Divinity  of  His  nature,  Jesus  had  never  yet  asked  the 
Twelve  any  question  respecting  Himself,  but  it  was  necessary,  now  that 
the  end  was  approaching,  that  they  should  know  Him  in  His  true  dignity. 
He  must  reveal  Himself  definitely  as  the  Messiah,  and  be  formally  accepted 
as  such.  To  have  confined  Himself,  like  John,  to  the  announcement  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  as  at  hand,  would  have  left  that  kingdom  incomplete,  and 
have  created  expectations  of  the  future  advent  of  some  other  as  its  Head. 
Without  a  personal  centre  round  which  to  gather,  all  that  He  had  done 
would  speedily  fade  away.  He  Himself,  in  the  matchless  beauty  of  His 
life,  and  the  infinite  attractiveness  of  His  self-sacrificing  death,  must 
necessarily  be  the  abiding  soul  of  the  New  Society  through  all  ages,  for  its 
fundamental  principle,  from  the  first,  had  been  personal  love  towards  Him. 
His  words.  His  whole  life.  His  voluntary  humiliation,  the  transcendent 
self-restraint  and  self-denial  which  had  used  unlimited  supernatural  power 
only  for  others,  and  had  submitted  to  poverty,  obscurity,  and  opposition, 
erelong  to  culminate  in  the  endurance  of  a  violent  death  for  the  good  of 
mankind,  raised  Him  to  a  Divine  and  perfect  ideal  of  love  and  goodness, 
which,  of  itself,  proclaimed  Him  the  King — that  is,  the  Messiah — in  the 
new  kingdom  He  had  founded.  "  The  love  of  Christ "  was  to  be  the 
watchword  of  His  followers  in  all  ages ;  the  sentiment  that  would  nerve 
them  to  endure  triumphantly  the  bitterest  persecutions,  and  even  death ; 
that  would  constrain  them  to  life-long  devotion  to  His  cause,  in  obedience 
to  His  commands,  and  in  imitation  of  His  example.  The  words  of  a  future 
disciple,  St.  Paul,  would  be  only  the  utterance  of  all  others  worthy  the 
name,  in  every  age:  "The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us."  With  St.  John, 
they  would  "  love  Him  because  He  first  loved  us."  He  had  established 
a  kingdom,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in  history,  on  personal  love  to  the 
founder,  and  it  was  necessary  that  He  should  definitely  reveal  Himself  in 
His  spiritual  relation  to  it  as,  henceforth,  its  recognised  Messiah-King. 

A  crisis  so  momentous  in  the  development  of  His  great  work  must  have 
profoundly  affected  a  nature,  sensitive  and  holy,  like  His.  His  whole 
life  was  an  unbroken  communion  with  His  Father  in  Heaven,  but  there 
were  moments  when  this  passion  of  the  soul  appeared  to  grow  more 
intense.  His  human  weakness,  though  unstained  by  evil,  was  fain  to 
strengthen  itself  by  drawing  near  to  His  Father  above,  with  whom  every 
beat  of  His  thoughts  moved  in  undisturbed  and  awful  harmony.  In  all 
His  temptations,  He  had  ever  betaken  Himself  to  prayer,  and  this  was  a 


502  THE   LIFE    OF   CHKIST. 

moment  of  unspeakable  sublimity.  For  Israel  had  now  rejected  Him,  and 
there  rose  before  Him  only  the  vision  of  the  (yross.  Plis  Kingdom,  more 
clearly  than  ever,  was  to  go  forth  to  conquer  the  world,  from  the  gates  of 
His  opened  grave,  and  He  had,  therefore,  while  yet  with  them,  to  take  His 
seat  as  the  Messiah-King  among  those  in  whom  that  kingdom  saw  i'jS  first 
subjects. 

He  had,  thus,  been  absorbed  in  thought  and  separated  in  fervent  prayer, 
as  they  passed  from  town  to  town  on  His  northward  journey,  until  at  lasfc 
they  reached  the  neighboiirhood  of  Cassarea  Philippi.  There,  He  once  more 
went  aside,  in  some  lonely  spot  among  the  rich  wooded  valleys,  for  solitary 
devotion.  Before  He  returned  to  the  Twelve,  He  had  determined  to  delay 
no  longer  a  full  self-revelation  ;  to  throw  aside  the  veil,  and  openly  assume 
the  Messiahship  Avhich  had  long  been  silently  ascribed  to  Him  in  His  little 
circle,  and  as  silently  accepted,  without  a  formal  and  definite  investiture. 

"  Wliom  do  men  say  that  I,  the  Son  of  man,  am  ?  "  sufficed  to  introduce 
the  momentous  topic.  The  answer  showed  how  little  He  had  been  under- 
stood, and  how  utterly  the  fixed  national  idea  of  a  Messiah  had  darkened 
the  general  mind.  "  Some  say,  with  Antipas,  the  spirit  of  John  the  Baptist 
has  entered  Thee,  and  that  Thou  workest  through  it,  or  that  Thou  art  Johrj 
himself,  risen  from  the  dead,  and  appearing  under  another  name ;  some, 
that  Thou  art  Elias,  who,  like  Enoch,  has  never  died,  but  was  taken  up  alive 
to  heaven,  and  has  now  returned  in  the  body,  as  Malachi  predicted,  to  prc- 
pai-e  for  the  Messiah ;  some,  that  Thou  art  Jeremiah,  come  to  reveal  the 
Ark  and  the  sacred  vessels  which  he  hid  in  Mount  Nebo,  and  thus  in- 
augurate the  approaching  reign  of  the  Messiah ;  or  one  of  the  prophets, 
sent  from  the  other  world  by  God,  as  a  herald  of  the  Coming  One."  They 
could  not  add  that  any  regarded  Him  as  the  Messiah.  His  refusal  to 
appeal  to  force,  and  head  a  political  revolution,  had  caused  an  almost 
universal  repudiation  of  the  thought. 

Jesus  expressed  neither  sorrow  nor  displeasui^e  at  such  an  utter  failure 
to  recognise  His  true  character  and  dignity.  He  had  been  the  subject  of 
the  keenest  interest  and  discussion,  from  His  relation  to  the  Expected 
One,  and  this,  of  itself,  promised  a  rich  result,  when  His  followers,  after 
His  departure,  directed  the  minds  of  men  to  a  clearer  conception  of  the 
Messianic  kingdom.  He  Himself  knew  His  rightful  glory  and  was  un- 
affected by  any  popular  judgment.  But  He  had  now  to  obtain  from  the 
lips  of  the  Twelve— the  special  witnesses  of  His  life  and  daily  words— a 
higher  confession,  which  He  knew  they  only  needed  a  question  from  Him 
to  utter  gladly.  "  But  whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  "  Instantly  from  the  lips 
of  Simon  Peter,  the  impulsive,  tender,  loving,  rock-like  disciple,  came  all 
that  the  full  heart  of  his  Master  waited  to  hear.  "  Thou,  my  Master  and 
Lord,"  said  he,  doubtless  with  beaming  joy,  "  Thou  art  the  Christ— Antah 
Meschicha— the  son  of  the  living  God."  Thus,  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
heathen  town  dedicated  to  the  deified  Augustus,  Jesus  was  proclaimed, 
with  no  preparatory  circumstance,  in  the  privacy  of  a  small  band  of 
GalilaBan  fishermen,  as  the  King  of  the  Universal  Israel ;  here,  a  fugitive 
whose  only  earthly  crown  was  to  be  the  one  of  thorns.  He  assumed  publicly 
the  empire  of  all  the  world,  as  the  Messiah  of  God. 


IN   FLIGHT   ONCE   MOEE.  503 

The  gi'eatness  and  significance  of  this  confession  of  Peter,  made  in  the 
name  of  the  Twelve,  cannot  be  exaggerated.  It  was  a  striking  advance 
towards  realizing  the  great  truth  of  the  Incarnation,  and  the  clear  in- 
telligence would  one  day  follow  the  open  and  ardent  utterance  of  the  heart. 
Hitherto  Jesus  had  revealed  Himself  chiefly  as  the  "  Son  of  man,"  and  "  the 
Son  of  God ; "  but  He  now  received  from  those  who  had  been  constantly 
with  Him,  as  a  faint  acknowledgment  of  the  conviction  wrought  by  His 
life  and  words  and  mighty  works,  the  formal  inauguration  as  the  Messiah- 
King  of  a  spiritual  and  deathless  emjjire.  ISTathanael  had,  indeed,  antici- 
pated the  great  confession  at  the  opening  of  His  ministry,  and  the  disciples 
had  recognised  Him  as  the  Son  of  God,  on  that  wild  night  when  they 
found  that  the  form  walking  on  the  waves  was  not  the  Spirit  of  the  storm, 
but  their  loving  Master,  and  when  the  very  winds  and  waves  were  seen 
to  obey  Him.  But  the  time  was  not  then  ripe  for  His  definite  installation 
as  Messiah,  and  the  incidents  passed  off.  Simon,  also,  had  cheered  His 
troubled  soul,  when  the  great  secession  of  the  disciples  took  place  at 
Capernaum,  by  an  anticipation  of  His  confession  at  Ctesarea  Philippi,  but 
He  had,  as  it  were,  waived  it  aside.  Now,  however,  He  formally  accepted 
what,  hitherto.  He  had  silently  allowed ;  for  the  hour  had  come. 

"  Blessed  arb  thou,  Simon  Barjona,"  said  He  ;  "  flesh  and  blood  hath  not 
revealed  this  to  you ;  you  have  not  learned  it  from  my  lowly  outward  form, 
and  it  has  come  to  you  from  no  human  teaching  ;  my  Father  in  Heaven  has 
disclosed  it  to  you."  As  a  deliberate  confession  of  faith  it  was,  indeed, 
amazing.  The  Twelve  had  been  the  daily  witnesses  of  the  human  simplicity 
and  poverty  of  His  life.  His  homelessness.  His  weary  wanderings  afoot, 
and  all  the  circumstances  of  His  constant  humiliation,  which  might  well 
have  counterbalanced  the  great  memories  their  privileged  intimacy  had 
afforded,  a,nd  obscured  their  spiritual  significance.  These  last  months  had, 
moreover,  surrounded  Him  with  all  the  depreciations  of  a  fugitive  life. 
Yet  the  Apostles  broke  through  the  hereditary  prejudice  of  their  race, 
with  whom  tradition  and  absolute  uniformity  in  religious  things  had  an 
inconceivable  power, — tlicy  disregarded  the  judgment  of  their  spiritual 
rulers  and  leaders ;  rising  above  the  utmost  ideas  of  those  around ;  and 
had  seen,  in  their  lowly  rejected  Master,  the  true  Lord  of  the  New  King- 
dom of  God.  Nor  is  the  fact  less  wonderful  that  the  life  and  words  of 
Jesus,  seen  thus  closely,  should  have  created  such  a  lofty  and  holy  concep- 
tion of  His  spiritual  greatness,  amidst  all  the  counteractions  of  outward 
fact  and  daily  familiarity.  In  spite  of  all.  He  was  the  Malka  Meschicha — 
the  King-Messiah — to  those  who  had  known  Him  best. 

The  ardent,  immovable  devotion  of  Peter,  the  first  to  own  his  Master  as 
Messiah,  as  He  had  been  first  in  all  other  utterances  of  trust  and  reverence, 
won  for  itself  an  illustrious  tribute  from  Jesus.  The  weai-y  sad  heart, 
that  had  so  much  to  grieve  it,  was  filled  for  the  time  with  a  pui"e  and 
kingly  joy  at  the  proof  thus  given,  that,  at  last,  a  true  and  solid  begin 
ning  had  been  made.  He  had,  doubtless,  long  yearned  for  a  time  when  the 
Twelve  would  be  advanced  enough  in  spiritual  things  to  allow  Him  to 
disclose  His  utmost  thoughts  and  ultimate  designs,  and  this  time  had  now 
come.    He  had  never  yet  spoken  of  the  future  government  or  organization 


504  THE   LIFE    OF   CimiST. 

of  the  ISTew  Kingdom,  as  a  visible  commuuion,  and  did  not  propose  to  lay 
down  any  detailed  laws  even  now.  He  hastened  to  tell  Peter,  however, 
that  this  Society, — His  Chui'ch  or  congregation,  "  called  out  "  from  the 
world  at  larce,  would  be  entrusted  to  him  after  His  own  decease.  As 
buildings  in  the  country  around  were  founded  on  a  rock,  that  the  floods- 
and  storms  might  not  overthrow  them,  so  it  would  be  raised  on  the  rock- 
like fidelity  shown  by  him  in  his  great  confession. 

Turning  to  him,  Christ  continued,  "  I  have  something  to  say  that  con- 
cerns you.  You  are  to  me,  as  when  I  first  saAV  you, — Petros — the  rock 
(potra)  which  I  will  make  the  foundation  stone,  when  my  Church,  in  which 
my  followers  will  be  enrolled,  is  to  be  built.  In  its  building  you  will  do 
me  the  greatest  service,  like  the  stone  on  which  all  others  rest,  itself  rest- 
ing on  the  fii'm  rock  beneath — which  is  myself.  On  you  and  such  rock- 
like souls,  it  will  rise,  but  on  you  first,  and  the  gates  of  death  will  be 
powerless  against  it ;  for  it  shall  outlive  the  grave  and  reach  on  into 
eternity.  Fast  closed  as  are  the  gates  of  the  grave,  they  shall  open  wide 
to  let  forth  my  followers  to  the  resurrection  of  the  just,  nor  shall  the 
powers  of  evil  be  able  to  overturn  the  New  Society  thus  gathered.  I  have 
called  you  the  rock  on  which  I  shall  raise  my  Church — I  call  you  also  the 
steward,  to  whom  the  charge  of  it  is  entrusted.  As  such  I  shall  give  you, 
after  my  ascent  to  heaven,  the  keys  of  it,  to  admit  such  as  you  think  worthy, 
both  Jews  and  heathen,  and  to  shut  out  those  whom  you  think  unfit.  I 
commit  to  you,  moreover,  the  government  and  discipline  of  its  member- 
ship :  whatever  you  forbid  as  unbecoming  my  kingdom,  or  as  unfitting  for 
membership  in  it,  shall  be  as  if  forbidden  by  me,  myself,  in  heaven ;  and 
whatever  you  permit,  as  not  contrary  to  its  welfare,  or  not  excluding  from 
it,  shall  be  as  if  I  myself  permitted  it,  from  above.  It  will  be  left  to  your 
decision,  which  will  be  recognised  before  God,  what  may  be  forbidden,  as 
a  hindrance  to  entry  into  my  Church  ou  earth,  or  unworthy  of  it ;  and 
what  may  be  permitted,  as  not  barring  from  its  membership."  How 
Peter  exercised  this  honour  in  the  Apostolic  Church  was  hereafter  to  be 
seen,  when  he  rose  as  mouthpiece  of  the  eleven  in  the  election  of  a  twelfth  ; 
when  he  spoke  for  them  on  the  Day  of  Pentecost,  before  the  mviltitude,  and 
by  his  constant  mention  as  chief  and  foremost  of  the  Apostles.  Jesus  was 
almost  immediately  to  extend  the  same  dignity  and  authority  to  the  whole 
of  the  Twelve,  but  Peter  had  just  precedence  in  recognition  of  his  worth 
and  character.  The  figments  of  Eomau  creation,  by  which,  from  this 
tribute  to  his  love  and  enthusiasm,  a  vast  structure  of  priestly  arrogance 
and  usurpation  has  been  raised,  need  no  notice  in  this  place. 

The  ISTew  Society  was  at  last  formally  constituted,  and  provision  made 
for  its  government  and  continuance  after  its  founder's  death.  Hence- 
forth, He  moved  in  the  midst  of  the  Twelve  as  the  recognised  Messiah,  of 
whom  they  were  the  fiiture  designated  envoys. 

But  the  approaching  end  of  the  great  drama  could  not  be  left  untold. 
Jerusalem  was  the  one  spot  in  which  alone  the  work  of  Jesus  could  be  com- 
pleted. Galilee  had  been  only  the  place  of  preparation.  The  Temple  and 
its  ministering  priests,  the  Rabbis  and  the  schools,  were  in  the  Holy  City. 
David  had  reigned  there,  and  there  must  the  Messiah  be  declared,  to  vindi- 


IN   FLIGHT   ONCE   MORE.  505 

cate  the  honour  of  God,  and  prochiim  the  new  spu-itual  theocracy  in  the 
centre  of  the  religious  -world.  His  work  in  Galilee  Avas  virtually  over ;  for 
though  not  finished,  it  was  hopelessly  paralysed  and  checked.  He  might 
return,  hut  it  would  avail  nothing  against  the  conspiracy  that  everywhere 
faced  Him.  But  in  Jerusalem  He  had  both  to  begin  and  to  complete  His 
Avork.  He  must  go  to  the  capital,  for  Galilee  was  in  great  measure  closed 
against  Him.  He  had  assumed  the  Messiahship,  and  He  must  needs  pro- 
claim it  openlj'  before  His  enemies  in  their  stronghold.  He  knew  that 
only  death  awaited  Him,  but  that  death  had  been  foreseen  in  the  eternal 
counsels  of  God  as  the  mysterious  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 

It  would  have  been  premature  to  have  spread  abroad  the  momentous 
incident  of  the  ascription  and  formal  acceptance  of  the  title  of  Messiah. 
The  Twelve  must  needs  know  the  great  truth,  but  the  multitude  must,  for 
a  time,  be  left  to  their  own  fancies.  He  was  to  be  preached  as  a  crucified 
and  risen  Saviour,  not  as  a  Jewish  Messiah,  and  this  could  not  be  till  the 
end  had  come.  Nor  did  even  the  Apostles  as  yet  understand  the  Divine 
plan  of  salvation  clearly  enough,  and  the  Jews,  moreover,  might  have 
taken  advantage  of  the  preaching,  for  seditious  movements.  So  imperative 
was  temporary  secrecy,  indeed,  that  He  gave  the  strictest  injunctions  that 
no  man  should  be  told  what  had  happened. 

The  idea  of  a  suffering  Messiah,  was,  however,  so  wholly  foreign  to  all 
prevailing  conceptions,  that  it  was  indispensable  that  the  catastrophe  at 
Jerusalem,  foreseen  by  Jesus  from  the  first,  but  now  near  at  hand,  should 
be  made  familiar  to  the  Twelve,  as  part  of  the  all-wise  purpose  of  God  in 
the  development  of  the  new  spiritual  kingdom.  It  has  been  a  disputed 
point  whether  any  of  the  Eabbis  of  Christ's  day  had  thought  of  the  Mes- 
siah as  destined  to  suffer  and  die.  Beyond  question  some  had  applied  to 
Him  the  passages  of  Isaiah,  which  speak  of  the  servant  of  God  as  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  but  it  is  equally  certain  that  the  idea  had  not  only 
found  no  general  acceptance,  but  was  entirely  opposed  to  the  feeling  of  the 
nation.  From  this  time,  therefore,  Jesus  began  systematically  to  prepare 
the  Apostles  for  His  approaching  violent  death,  returning  to  the  sad  topic 
at  every  opportunity ;  that  a  truth  so  disagreeable  and  so  contrary  to  their 
lifelong  ideas  might  gradually  become  familiar  to  them ;  and  that  they 
might  come  to  feel  that  it  was  in  accordance  with  the  Divine  plan  of  His 
kingdom.  He  had  spoken  of  it  before,  but  now  threw  aside  all  vagueness, 
and  impressed  it  on  them  Avith  the  utmost  distinctness  ;  doubtless,  explain- 
ing from  their  own  Scriptures,  as  He  did  afterwards  to  the  disciples  on 
the  way  to  Emmaus,  how  the  Christ  needed  to  suffer  these  things,  before 
entering  into  His  glory.  To  revolutionize  fixed  belief  is  never  easy,  for 
the  will  has  to  be  persuaded  as  well  as  the  understanding.  Hitherto,  their 
minds  had  not  been  prepared  for  such  a  shock,  and  even  yet,  as  we  shall 
often  see,  they  were  very  slow  to  give  up  their  preconceptions,  and  realize 
Avhat  seemed  so  contradictory. 

It  was  impossible,  hoAvever,  to  mistake  the  warnings  of  their  Master 
however  hard  it  might  be  to  reconcile  them  with  their  oavu  ideas.  "  He 
must  go  to  Jerusalem,"  He  said,  "  and  suffer  many  things  of  the  elders, 
and  chief  priests,  and  scribes,  and  be  killed,  and  after  three  days,  rise 


506  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 


again."  But  so  far  were  tlie  Twelve  from  comprehending  sucli  an  an- 
nouncement, that  Peter,  too  impulsive  to  wait  for  an  opportunity  of  telling 
how  much  it  distressed  him,  could  not  restrain  his  feelings.  True  to  his 
character,  he  forthwith  took  Jesus  by  the  hand,  and  led  Him  aside,  to 
remonstrate  with  Him,  and  dissuade  Him  from  a  journey  which  would 
have  such  results.  "  God  keep  this  evil  far  from  Thee,  my  Lord  and 
Master,"  said  he.  "You  must  not  let  such  things  happen.  They  will 
utterly  ruin  the  prospects  of  your  kingdom,  for  they  match  ill  with  the 
dignity  of  tlie  Messiah.  It  there  be  any  danger  such  as  you  fear,  why  not 
use  your  supernatural  power  to  preserve  yourself  and  us  ?  It  is  not  to  be 
endured  that  you  should  suffer  such  indignities."  It  was  the  very  same 
temptation  as  the  arch-enemy  had  set  before  Christ  in  the  Avilderness, — to 
employ  His  Divine  power  for  His  own  advantage,  instead  of  using  it,  with 
absolute  self-surrender,  only  to  carry  out  the  will  of  His  Father.  But,  as 
ever  before,  it  was  instantly  repelled.  His  quick,  stern  answer  must  have 
made  Peter  recoil,  afraid.  "  Get  thee  behind  me,"  said  He,  "  out  of  my 
sight,  thou  tempter ;  thou  art  laying  a  snare  for  me ;  thy  words  show  that 
in  these  things  thou  ent^rest  not  into  the  thoughts  and  plans  of  God,  but 
considerest  all  things  only  from  the  ideas  of  men,  with  their  dreams  of 
ambition  and  human  advantage."  Peter  still  fancied  that  Jesus  would  be 
an  earthly  monarcli,  and  that  the  proper  course  to  take,  under  the  circum- 
stances, was  to  oppose  force  witli  force.  He  had  yet  to  learn  that  the 
kingdom  of  his  Master  was  to  be  established  by  suffering  and  self-denial. 

It  was  a  moment  unspeakably  solemn.  Even  the  few  faithful  ones,  and 
their  very  Coryphseus— their  leader  and  mouthpiece— while  hailing  Jesus 
as  the  Messiah,  clung  to  the  old  national  ideas,  and  could  not  reconcile 
them  with  his  suffering  and  dying.  He  had  rebuked  the  temptation  which 
appealed  to  Him,  as  a  man,  so  strongly,  to  take  the  ease  and  glory  which 
invited  Him,  and  to  abandon  the  path  of  sorrow  and  lowliness,  which 
might  be  the  spiritual  life  of  the  world,  but  was  His  own  humiliation  and 
martyrdom.  It  had  been  driven  away  from  His  stainless  soul,  like  dark- 
ness from  the  sun,  but  its  power  in  the  minds,  even  of  the  Twelve,  was 
only  too  clear.  The  truth,  in  all  its  repugnancy,  must  be  forced  on  them 
more  clearly  than  ever,  that  they  might  no  longer  continue  with  Him  if  it 
offended  them ;  for  He  would  receive  none  as  His  disciples  who  did  not 
cheerfully  embi-ace  a  career  of  self-denial  and  absolute  devotion,  even  to 
the  sacrifice  of  life,  for  His  sake,  with  no  prospect  whatever  of  earthly 
reward.  Nor  would  He  even  accept  any  one  willing,  from  a  mercenary 
spirit,  to  suffer  here  that  He  might  receive  a  reward  hereafter  ;  for  though 
such  a  reward  was  promised  to  those  who  were  faithful  to  the  end,  absolute 
sincerity  was  required  in  His  service.  It  must  be  the  grateful,  sponta- 
neous expression  of  true  love  and  devotion. 

Even  in  such  an  outlying  district  as  that  of  Oo3sarea  Philippi,  numbers 
of  the  population — for  there  were  many  Jews  in  the  region — had  gathered 
to  hear  and  see  Him,  and  were  near  at  hand  at  the  moment.  The  test 
required  from  the  Twelve  was  no  less  imperative  for  these  ;  the  "  floor '' 
must  be  thoroughly  "fanned  and  cleansed"  from  all  self-deception  or 
designed  hypocrisy. 


IN   FLIGHT   ONCE    MOKE.  507 

Witliout  giving  Peter  time,  therefore,  to  excuse  himself,  and  leaving  him 
to  the  shame  of  his  reproof,  Jasns  called  tlic  people  and  the  Apostles 
round  Him,  and  continued  the  subject  on  ■which  He  had  begun  to  speak. 

"  1  must  needs  suffer,"  said  He,  "  before  I  enter  into  my  glory,  but  so 
must  all  who  would  be  my  followers.  If  any  man  propose  to  be  my  dis- 
ciple, he  must  literally  follow  me  in  my  path  of  humiliation  and  sorrow. 
Wbatevcr  would  hinder  absolute  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  must  be  given 
up.  He  must  make  me  his  one  aim.  All  that  stands  in  the  way  of  undi- 
vided loyalty  to  me— the  love  of  ease,  of  pleasure,  and  even  of  life — must 
be  surrendered.  The  hopes  and  prospects  which  engage  other  men  must 
be  abandoned,  and  in  their  stead  he  must  daily  take  up  the  sufferings  and 
self-denials  which  come  on  him  for  my  sake,  and  bear  tliem,  as  a  man 
condemned  to  death  bears  the  cross  on  which  he  is  to  die.  I  have  set,  and 
shall  set  him,  the  example  I  require  him  to  follow.  Any  one  who  thinks 
he  can  be  my  disciple,  and  enter  into  my  kingdom  hereafter,  and  yet  carry 
himself  so  in  this  evil  time  as  to  escape  suffering  and  enjoy  life  and  its 
comforts,  deceives  himself.  If  he  seek  this  life  by  denying  my  name,  as 
he  must  needs  do,  in  this  age,  to  escape  persecution,  he  will  lose  life  eternal. 
But  he  who  is  willing,  for  my  sake,  to  sacrifice  his  natural  desire  for  plea- 
sure and  ease,  and  even  to  give  up  life  itself,  if  required,  will  assuredly 
receive  everlasting  life  when  I  come  in  my  kingdom.  Hard  though  this 
seem,  it  is  the  wisest  and  best  thing  you  can  do  to  comply  heartily  with  it- 
What  has  a  man  in  the  end  if,  by  denying  me  for  his  worldly  interests,  he 
gain  even  the  whole  world,  and  lose  that  existence  which  alone  is  worthy 
the  name  ?  Unprepared  for  the  eternal  life  of  my  kingdom,  and  without 
a  share  in  it ;  with  his  breath  he  loses  not  only  all  that  he  has,  but  himself 
as  well.     What  gain  here  will  repay  him  for  the  loss  of  the  life  hereafter  ? 

"  I  say  this  on  good  grounds,  and  with  absolute  truth.  For,  though  now 
only  a  man  like  yourselves,  I  shall  one  day  return  in  a  very  different  form, 
with  the  majesty  of  my  Father  in  heaven,  and  accompanied  by  legions  of 
angels,  to  recompense  every  one  according  to  his  works.  In  that  day  each 
true  disciple  will  be  rewarded  according  to  his  loving  devotion  and  self- 
sacrifice  for  my  sake,  and  will  be  received  by  me,  as  the  Messiah,  into  my 
kingdom.  But  I  shall  be  ashamed  of  any  one,  and  count  him  unfit  to 
enter  that  kingdom,  who  for  love  of  life  and  ease,  or  for  fear  of  man,  or 
from  shame  of  my  present  lowly  estate,  or  of  my  cross,  has  wanted  courage 
and  heart  to  confess  me  openly,  and  separate  himself,  for  love  to  me, 
from  this  sinful  generation.  It  may  be  hard  for  you  to  think,  as  you  see 
me  standing  here  before  j'ou,  that  I  shall  one  day  come  in  heavenly 
majesty  ;  but  that  you  may  know  how  surely  it  will  be  so,  I  shall  grar.t  to 
some  of  you  now  present,  a  glimpse  of  this  majesty,  not  after  my  death, 
but  while  I  am  still  with  you,  that  they  may  see  me,  the  Son  of  man,  in 
the  glory  in  which  I  will  come  when  I  return  to  enter  on  my  kingdom." 


503  TUE   LIFE    0-E   CHEIST. 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE    TKANSFIGURATION. 

JESUS  had  now  utterly  broken  with  the  past.  Hitherto  He  had  been 
slowly  educating  the  Twelve  to  right  conceptions  of  Himself  and  His 
great  work,  and  in  doing  so  had  had  to  oppose  their  stubborn  prejudice, 
enlighten  their  ignorance,  illustrate  His  meaning  by  significant  acts,  resist 
the  sophistry  and  superficial  literalism  of  the  Rabbis,  and  lead  the  way 
to  a  higher  spiritual  ideal  and  life  by  His  own  daily  example  and  words. 
They  had  now  been  in  His  society,  however,  for  over  two  years,  and,  at 
last,  had  risen  to  a  more  just  estimate  of  His  dignity  and  of  the  nature 
of  His  work.  He  was  henceforth  free  from  the  anxiety  which  had  been 
inevitable  so  long  as  nothing  had  been  definitely  accomplished  towards 
the  perpetuity  of  His  Kingdom ;  for  the  confession  of  Peter,  in  the  name 
of  his  brethren,  was  the  assurance  that  that  kingdom  would  outlive  His 
own  death,  and  spread  ever  more  widely  through  an  unending  future. 
The  joy  of  victory  filled  His  soul,  though  the  Cross  was  already  near  at 
hand.  Henceforth  He  bore  Himself  as  soon  to  leave  the  circle  with  whom 
He  had  dwelt  so  long;  now,  preparing  them  for  His  humiliation  by  show- 
ing its  Divine  necessity;  now,  uttering  His  deepest  thoughts  on  the  things 
of  His  kingdom ;  now,  kindling  their  hearts  by  visions  of  the  joy  that 
would  spread  over  all  nations  through  the  Gospel  they  were  to  preach- 
The  future  alone  filled  His  heart  and  mind. 

His  gladness  of  soul  at  Peter's  confession  had,  like  all  human  raptures, 
been  tempered  by  shadow.  He  had  read  the  hearts  of  the  Twelve,  and 
saw  that,  though  they  had  approached  the  truth  in  their  conception  of  the 
Messiah,  they  were  still  Jews,  in  linking  with  it  the  expectation  of  an 
earthly  political  kingdom,  with  its  ambitions  and  worldly  satisfactions. 
They  had  risen  above  the  difficulties  that  blinded  the  nation ;  the  thought 
of  ]S"azareth — Galilee — human  relationship — lowly  position — human  wants 
— rejection  by  the  Rabbis — familiar  intercourse  with  the  "unclean"  multi- 
tude, and  much  beside,  that  had  been  a  stumbling  block  to  others  ;_but  it 
was  hard  for  them,  in  the  presence  of  one  who,  to  outward  apf^rance, 
was  only  a  man,  to  realize  that  He  was  also  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God 
and,  like  His  Father,  Divine. 

The  announcement  that  He  was  to  enter  into  Plis  glory  as  Messiah,  by 
suffering  shame  and  death,  not  only  shocked  all  their  preconceptions : 
they  could  not  understand  it,  and  were  sorely  discouraged.  They  needed 
to  be  cheei-ed  in  their  despondency,  and  led  gradually  to  accept  the  dis- 
closure of  His  approaching  humiliation.  His  promise  that  some  of  them, 
before  their  death,  should  see  His  kingdom  come  with  power,  was  doubt- 
less treasured  in  their  hearts  ;  but  tliey  little  thought  its  fulfilment  was 
so  near. 

Six  days  passed;  or  eight,  including  the  first  and  last;  days  full, 
no  doubt,  of  sad  and  grave,  as  well  as  joyous,  thoughts  ;  sad  that  their 
Master  spoke  of  suffering  violence,  and  death  ;  grave  that  He  should  not 
only  have  dashed  all  their  hopes  of  a  national  regeneration,  but  should 


THE    TEANSFIGUEATION.  509 

have  painted  tlieir  own  futnre  in  colours  so  sombre;  yet  joyons,  amidst 
all,  in  vague  anticipations  of  the  predicted  spiritual  grandeur  of  the  New 
Kingdom,  of  which  they  were  to  be  heralds.  Little  by  little,  they  would 
be  sure  to  catch  more  of  His  spirit  from  daily  intercourse  with  Him,  and 
learn  imperceptibly  how  the  purest  joy  and  the  noblest  glory  come  from 
self-sacrihcing  love ;  how,  in  the  highest  sense,  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive.  We  are  told  nothing  of  this  sacred  interval,  but  may  well 
conjecture  how  it  passed. 

The  scene  of  the  Transfiguration,  like  that  of  nearly  all  other  incidents 
in  the  life  of  our  Lord,  is  not  minutely  stated.  St.  Luke,  indeed,  calls  it 
"  The  Mountain,"  but  gives  it  no  closer  name.  It  seems,  however,  certain, 
that  the  tradition  is  incorrect,  which  from  the  days  of  St.  Jerome  has 
pointed  to  Mount  Tabor  as  the  locality.  The  summit  of  that  hill — an 
irregular  platform,  embracing  a  circuit  of  half  an  hour's  walk— was  forti- 
fied, apparently  from  the  earliest  ages,  and  Josephus  mentions,  about  a.d. 
60,  that  he  strengthened  the  defences  of  a  city  built  on  it.  Picturesque, 
therefore,  though  the  hill  looks,  as  a  traveller  approaches  it  over  the  wide 
plain  of  Esdraelon,  it  could  not  have  been  the  spot  where  Jesus  revealed 
His  glory,  for  it  could  not  offer  the  seclusion  and  isolation  indicated  in 
the  Gospels.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  think  that  the  Twelve  and  their 
Master  had  left  the  neighbourhood  of  Cassarea  Philipjii,  for  St.  Mark 
expressly  mentions  that  they  did  not  start  for  Galilee  till  at  least  the 
day  after. 

It  must  have  been,  therefore,  on  one  of  the  sj^^^rs  of  Hermon,  "  the  lofty 
mountain,"  near  which  He  then  found  Himself,  that  the  Transfiguration 
took  place.  Brought  up  among  the  hills,  such  a  region,  with  distant  sum- 
mits, white  in  s^Dots  with  snow  even  in  summer,  its  pure  air,  and  the  soli- 
tude of  woody  slopes  and  shady  valleys,  must  have  breathed  on  the  wearied 
and  troubled  spirit  of  our  Lord,  an  ethereal  calm  and  deep  peaceful  joy, 
seldom  felt  amidst  the  abodes  of  men. 

Taking  the  three  of  His  little  band  most  closely  in  symjiathy  with  Him, 
and  most  able  to  receive  the  disclosures  that  might  be  made  to  them.  He 
ascended  into  the  hills  towards  evening,  for  silent  prayer.  The  favoured 
friends  were  Peter,  the  rock-like,  His  host  at  Capernaum  from  the  first ; 
and  the  two  Sons  of  Thunder,  John  and  James  ;  loved  disciples  both,  but 
John,  the  younger,  nearest  his  Master's  heart  of  all  the  Twelve,  as  most 
like  Himself  in  spirit.  They  had  been  singled  out,  already,  for  similar 
especial  honour,  for  they  alone  had  entered  the  death-chamber  in  the  house 
of  Jairus,  and  they  were,  hereafter,  to  be  the  only  witnesses  of  the  awful 
sorrow  of  Gethsemane. 

Evening  fell  while  Jesus  poured  out  His  soul  in  high  communion  with 
His  Father,  and  the  three,  lia;ving  finished  their  nightly  devotions,  had 
wrapped  themselves  in  their  abbas  and  lain  down  on  the  hill-side,  to  sleep. 
Meanwhile  their  Master  continued  in  prayer.  His  whole  soul  filled  with 
the  crisis  so  fast  approaching.  He  had  taken  the  three  with  Him,  to  over- 
come their  dread  of  His  death  and  repugnance  to  the  thought  of  it,  as 
unbefitting  the  Messiah ;  to  strengthen  them  to  bear  the  sight  of  His 
humiliation  hereafter;  a-nd  to  give  them  an  earnest  of  the  glory  into  which 


510  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

He  would  enter  after  His  decease,  and  thus  teach  them  that,  though  unseen, 
He  was,  more  than  ever,  mighty  to  help.  He  was  about  to  receive  a  solemn 
consecration  for  the  Cross,  but,  with  it,  a  strong  support  to  His  soul  in 
the  prospect  of  such  a  death.  He  was  a  man  like  ourselves,  and  His 
nature,  now  in  its  high  pi'ime,  and  delighting  in  life,  must  have  shrunk 
from  the  thought  of  dying.     The  prolonged  agony  and  shame  of  so  painful 

I  and  ignominious  an  end,  must  have  clouded  His  spirit  at  times  ;  but,  above 
all,  who  can  conceive  the  moral  suffering  that  must  have  been  in  the 
thought  that,  though  the  Holy  One,  He  was  to  be  made  an  offering  for  sin! 
that,  though  filled  with  unutterable  love  to  His  people.  He  was  to  die  at 
their  hands  as  their  enemy ;  that,  though  innocent  and  stainless.  He  was 
to  suffer  as  a  criminal ;  that,  though  the  beloved  Son  of  God,  Ho  was  to 
be  condemned  as  a  blasphemer  ?  As  He  continued  praying,  His  soul  rose 
above  all  earthly  sorrows.  Drawn  forth  by  the  nearness  of  His  Heavenly 
Father,  the  Divinity  within  shone  through  the  veiling  flesh  till  His  rai- 
ment kindled  to  the  dazzling  brightness  of  light,  or  of  the  glittering  snow 
on  the  peaks  above  Him,  and  His  face  glowed  with  a  sunlike  majesty. 
Amidst  such  an  effulgence  it  was  impossible  the  three  could  sleep.  Eoused 
by  the  splendour,  they  gazed,  awe-struck,  at  the  wonder,  when,  lo !  two 
liuman  forms,  in  glory  like  that  of  the  angels,  stood  by  His  side — Moses 
and  Elijah,  the  founder,  and  the  great  defender,  of  the  Old  Economy, 
which  He  had  come  at  once  to  supersede  and  to  fulfil.  Their  presence 
from  the  upper  world  was  a  symbol  that  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  hence- 
forth gave  place  to  a  higher  Dispensation ;  but  they  had  also  another 
mission.  They  had  passed  through  death,  or,  at  least,  from  life,  and  knew 
the  triumph  that  lay  beyond  mortality  to  tlie  faithful  servants  of  God. 
Who  could  speak  to  Him  as  they,  of  His  decease  which  He  should  accom- 
plish at  Jerusalem,  and  temper  the  gloom  of    its  anticipation  ?      Their 

\  presence  S2:)oke  of  the  grave  conquered,  and  of  the  eternal  glory  bej^ond. 
The  empty  tomb  under  Mount  Abarim,  and  the  horses  and  chariot  of  Elijah, 
dispelled  all  fears  of  the  future,  and  instantly  banished  all  human  weak- 
ness. That  His  Eternal  Father  should  have  honoured  and  cheered  Him  by 
such  an  embassy  at  such  a  time,  girt  His  soul  to  the  joyful  acceptance 
of  the  awful  task  of  redemption.  Human  agitation  and  spiritual  conflict 
passed  away,  to  return  no  more  in  their  bitterness  till  the  night  before 
Calvary.  His  whole  nature  rose  to  the  height  of  His  great  enterprise. 
Henceforth  His  one  thought  was  to  finish  the  work  His  Father  had  given 
Him  to  do. 

Meanwhile,  the  three  Apostles,  dazzled,  confused,  and  lost  in  wonder, 
gazed  silently  on  the  amazing  sight,  and  listened.  But  it  is  not  given  to 
earth  to  have  more  than  brief  glimpses  of  Heaven.  Moses  and  Elijah  had 
erelong  finished  their  mission,  and  were  about  to  return  to  the  presence 
of  God.  Could  they  not  lie  induced  to  stay  awhile  ?  Peter,  ever  first  to 
speak,  and  hardly  knowing,  in  his  confusion,  what  he  said,  would  at  least 
try  to  prolong  such  an  interview.  "  Master,"  said  he,  to  amplify  his  words, 
"  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here ;  let  us  gather  some  branches  from  the  slopes 
around,  and  put  up  three  booths,  like  those  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles  ; 
one  for  Thee,  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elijah."     The  cares  and  troubles 


THE   TRANSFIGUEATION.  511 

of  his  waiidcriug  life,  and  all  his  gloomy  forebodings  for  his  Master  and 
himself,  had  faded  away  before  such  brightness  and  joy,  and,  in  his  fond 
childlike  simplicity,  he  dreamed  of  lengthening  out  tlie  delight. 

The  Almighty  had  come  down  of  old,  to  Mount  Sinai,  in  blackness,  and 
darkness,  and  tempest ;  but  now,  a  bright  cloud  descended  from  the  clear 
Bky,  like  that  from  which  He  had  of  old  spoken  to  Moses  at  the  door  of  the 
Tabernacle,  and  overshadowed  Jesus  and  the  two  heavenly  visitors,  filling 
the  three  Apostles  with  fear,  as  they  saw  it  spread  round  and  over  their 
Master,  and  those  with  Ilim.  It  was  the  symbol  of  the  presence  of  God,  for 
He,  also,  had  di'awn  nigh  to  bear  witness  to  His  Eternal  Son.  It  was  not 
enough  that  Moses  and  Elijah  had  honoured  Him — a  voice  from  the  midst 
of  the  cloud  added  a  still  higher  testimony  :  "  This  is  My  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  Him."  Such  a  confirmation  of  the  great 
confession  of  Peter  was  never  to  be  forgotten.  Almost  a  generation  later, 
when  he  wrote  his  second  Epistle,  the  rememljrance  of  this  night  was  as 
vivid  as  ever.  "  We  were  eye-witnesses,"  says  he,  "  of  His  Majesty.  For 
He  received  from  God  the  Father  honour  and  glory,  when  there  came  such 
a  voice  to  Him  from  the  excellent  glory, '  This  is  My  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  Him.'  And  this  voice  which  came  from  hea- 
ven, we  heard,  when  we  were  with  Him  in  the  holy  mount."  The  ]:)right- 
ness  of  a  vision  so  amazing  lingered  in  the  memory  of  those  who  beheld 
it  to  the  latest  day  of  their  lives. 

Sore  afraid,  the  three  fell  on  their  faces,  for  wlio  could  stand  before 
God  P  But  the  Voice  had  come  and  gone,  and,  with  it,  the  cloud  and  the 
visitors  from  the  eternal  world ;  and  Jesus  was  once  more  alone.  Calming 
their  fears  by  a  gentle  touch.  He  bade  them  "  arise  and  not  be  afraid,"  and 
they  found  themselves  once  more  alone.  Master  and  followers,  with  the 
stars  over  them,  and  the  silent  hills  around.  The  Divine  glory  had  faded 
from  His  countenance,  and  His  robes  were  once  more  like  their  own,  but 
they  could  never  forget  in  what  Majesty  they  had  seen  Him  ;  never  forget, 
in  His  humiliation,  that  they  had  heard  Him  called  "  the  beloved  Son,"  by 
the  lips  of  the  Eternal  Himself ;  nor  could  they  ever  hesitate  whom  to 
obey  when  they  had  seen  Moses  and  Elijah — representatives  of  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets — withdraw  before  Him,  and  had  heard  Him  proclaimed 
from  the  Cloud  of  the  Presence  as  far  higher  than  they.  God  Himself 
had  said,  in  express  words,  or  in  effect,  "  He  who  is  now  with  you  alone, 
whose  heavenly  dignity  you  have  seen.  He  whom  you  daily  see  in  His 
wonted  lowliness,  is  the  same,  even  in  this  humiliation,  as  when  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Father — '  My  Son,  who  pleases  Me  always.'  Henceforth 
receive  the  Law  from  His  lips  alone ;  henceforth,  let  all  men  hear  Him 
only ;  He  is  the  Living  Voice  of  the  unseen  God." 

It  was  now  morning,  and  the  nine  were  awaiting  the  return  of  their 
Master  and  His  friends.  What  the  conversation  was  between  Jesus  and 
the  three,  as  they  descended  from  the  mountain,  is  not  told  us.  There 
was,  once  more,  freedom  to  speak,  though,  doubtless,  they  did  so  with  a 
strange  reverence,  hardly  venturing  to  talk  of  what  they  had  seen  and 
heard.  Nor  could  they  relieve  their  miiuls  by  telling  the  wonders  of  the 
night  to  the  others  of  the  Twelve,  for  even  they  were  so  little  prepared  for 


512  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

such  disclosures,  that  Jesus  commanded  tliat  the  vision  should  be  told  "to 
no  man,  till  the  Sou  of  man  be  risen  from  the  dead." 

It  illustrates  the  difficulty  Jesus  had  to  overcome,  before  new  religious 
ideas  could  be  familiarized  to  the  minds  even  of  those  under  His  con- 
tinuous teaching,  that,  though  the  three  had  often  heard  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead  directly  or  indirectly  from  Jesus  Himself,  they  were  at  a 
loss  to  know  what  the  words  meant,  as  He  now  used  them,  and  disputed 
among  themselves  about  them.  He  had  told  the  Jews  that  if  they  de- 
stroyed the  Temple  of  His  body.  He  should  raise  it  again  the  third  day ; 
and  only  a  week  before  the  Transfiguration,  on  the  day  of  Peter's  memor- 
able utterance.  He  had  used  almost  the  very  words  which  perjDlexed  them 
now.     But  though  thrice  repeated,  they  were  still  dark  and  mysterious. 

The  resurrection  from  the  dead  was,  indeed,  an  article  of  the  current 
Jewish  theology,  but  it  was  so  taught  by  the  Eabbis,  that  the  three  found 
it  hard  to  reconcile  their  previous  ideas  with  the  language  of  Jesus.  They 
had  heard  from  some  of  the  preachers  in  the  synagogues,  that  Israel  alone 
would  rise ;  from  others,  that  the  resurrection  would  include  godly 
heathen  also,  who  had  kept  the  seven  commands  given  to  the  sons  of 
Noah ;  from  some,  that  all  the  heathen  outside  the  Holy  Land  would  be 
raised,  but  only  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt  before  Israel;  while 
still  others  maintained,  that  neitber  the  Samaritans,  nor  the  great  mass  of 
their  own  nation,  who  did  not  observe  the  precepts  of  the  Eabbis,  would 
have  part  in  the  resurrection.  But  if  there  was  confusion  as  to  who  should 
rise  again,  there  was  still  more  contradiction  between  what  they  had 
always  heard  before,  of  the  occasion  and  time  of  the  resurrection  ;  and  the 
words  that  had  fallen  from  Jesus.  They  had  been  trained  to  believe  that 
all  Israel  would  be  gathered  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  at  the 
coming  of  the  Messiah,  and  that  the  dead  would  be  raised  immediately 
after.  But  before  this  resurrection,  which  would  thus  inaugurate  the 
reign  of  the  Messiah,  Elias  was  first  to  come,  and  they  still  clung  to  this 
idea,  in  spite  of  all  that  Jesus  had  said  to  remove  it.  They  had  alwaysi 
moreover,  heard  the  synagogue  preachers  say  that  the  holy  dead,  when 
thus  raised,  were  to  take  part  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  at  Jerusalem, 
and  once  more  become  fellow-citizens  with  the  living. 

At  the  mention  of  the  resurrection,  therefore,  the  thought  instantly  rose 
in  their  minds,  how  it  could  take  place  when  Elijah  had  not  yet  ap- 
peared, and  how  Jesus  could  speak  of  Himself,  alone,  as  rising  from  the 
grave,  and  that  on  the  third  day.  It  was  clear  there  must  be  some  con- 
tradiction between  His  words  and  what  they  had  hitherto  been  taught. 
What  could  He  mean  by  this  rising  from  the  dead  ?  Only  He  could 
answer.  To  solve  the  point  they  asked  Him,  "  How  is  it  that  our  Eabbis 
say  Elias  must  come  before  the  dead  shall  be  raised— that  is,  before  the 
opening  of  the  reign  of  the  Messiah,  which  the  resurrection  is  to  announce  P 
You  speak  of  yourself  alone,  rising  from  the  dead,  and  that  on  the  third 
day,  and  say  nothing  about  this  reappearance  of  Elias,  which  the  Eabbis 
tell  us,  is  to  be  three  days  before  the  coming  of  the  Messiah.  Is  it  wrong 
when  they  say  that  he  will  stand  on  the  hills  of  Israel,  and  weep  and 
lament  over  the  desolate  and  forsaken  land,  till  his  voice  is  heard  through 


THE    TRANSFIGCTRATION.  513 

the  world,  and  that  he  will  then  ciy  to  tlic  mountains,  '  Peace  and  blessing 
come  into  the  world,  peace  and  blessing  come  into  the  world! ' — '  Salvation 
cometh,  salvation  cometh ! '  and  gather  all  the  scattered  sous  of  Jacob,  and 
restore  all  things  in  Israel  as  in  ancient  times  ?  They  affirm  that  Elias 
will  turn  the  hearts  of  all  Israel  to  the  Messiah ;  how  is  this  to  be  recon- 
ciled with  your  saying  that  the  Messiah  must  suffer  many  things  of  tlie 
high  priests  and  rulers,  and  be  rejected  and  put  to  death  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Jesus,  "  when  you  say  that  Elias  must  come 
before  mc,  the  Messiah.  The  purpose  of  God,  and  ancient  prophecy,  re- 
quire it.  But,  as  I,  the  Son  of  man,  now  when  I  am  come,  must  suffer 
many  things,  and  be  set  at  nought  and  rejected,  as  the  prophets  have  fore- 
told, although  I  have  given  so  many  proofs  of  my  heavenly  mission ;  so 
has  it  already  happened  with  him  who  was  the  Elias  sent  by  my  Father  to 
jirej^are  my  way.  He,  like  myself,  has  already  come,  but  they  knew  him 
as  little  as  they  have  known  me,  and  they  have  done  to  him  as  their  hearts 
wished.  He  has  suffered  even  to  deatlf,  as  I,  the  Messiah,  must  also 
suffer."  Words  so  precise  could  not  be  misunderstood.  They  saw  that 
He  spoke  of  John  the  Baptist. 

Our  moments  of  exaltation  and  rajjture  are  only  passing,  and  are  often 
thrown  into  vivid  contrast  by  the  shadows  that  constantly  linger  beside 
the  light.  When  He  ascended  the  mountain  with  Peter  and  the  sons  of 
Zebcdce,  Jesus  had  left  the  other  disciples  at  the  foot.  The  night,  with 
its  wondrous  vision,  had  passed  away,  and  He  was  now  returning  to  His 
little  band,  who  waited  for  Him  in  a  neighbouring  hamlet  or  village.  The 
Jewish  population  scattered  round  Ca3sarea  Philippi  had  already  heard  of 
His  arrival  in  their  parts,  and,  from  vai'ious  motives,  had  gathered  to  see 
and  hear  Him.  Hence  no  sooner  was  He  seen  descending  the  slopes,  than 
the  whole  multitude  moved  in  His  direction,  to  meet  Him.  His  sudden 
appearance  was  opportune.  An  incident  had  just  taken  place,  which  was 
still  exciting  no  little  dispute  between  some  scribes  and  the  disciples.  A 
Jew  in  the  crowd  had  a  son — his  only  child — who  had  been  afflicted  from 
birth  with  the  form  of  demoiTiac  possession  shown  by  epilepsy,  joined  with 
madness  and  want  of  speech.  He  had  brought  him,  in  the  hope  that  Jesus 
would  heal  liim,  and  the  disciples,  who  had  often  before  wrought  similar 
miracles  when  sent  on  missions  through  the  country,  had  tried,  in  His 
absence,  to  cure  the  boy,  and  had  failed.  It  was,  indeed,  a  special  case, 
for  the  lad  was  subject  to  violent  convulsions,  in  which  he  foamed  at  the 
mouth,  and  gnashed  with  his  teeth,  and  these  had  often  endangered  his 
life,  by  coming  on  him  at  times  when  he  would  have  been  drowned  or 
burned  had  not  help  been  near.  His  whole  body,  moreover,  was  withering 
away  under  their  infl  ucnce. 

The  failure  of  the  disciples  had,  apparently,  been  connected  with  the 
excitement  and  agitations  of  the  last  week.  Peter's  confession  in  their 
name,  that  they  ]:)elieved  their  Master  to  be  the  Messiah,  had  been  sadly 
overcast  by  the  shock  to  all  their  previous  ideas  from  His  repeated  intima- 
tions of  His  approaching  violent  death,  and  of  a  similar  fate  possibly  over- 
taking themselves.  It  had  been  a  week  of  spiritual  struggle,  which  Jesus 
designedly  left  them  to  undergo,  though  He  knew,  throughout,  that  one  of 

L   L 


514  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

tlicm  would  yield  to  the  trial.  Tlie  nearer  the  time  came  for  the  journey 
to  Judea  of  which  He  had  si^okcn,  and  the  less  they  could  conceal  from 
themselves  that  their  devotion  to  Him  imperilled  their  own  safety,  the 
more  troubled  and  faltering  grew  their  minds,  and  this  inevitably  affected 
them  in  all  their  relations.  lu  such  a  hesitating  and  half- dispirited  frame, 
they  had  no  such  triumi^hant  faith  as  when  they  had  gone  out  on  their 
first  independent  apostolic  mission,  and  diseases  and  evil  spirits  yielded  to 
their  commands,  in  their  Leader's  name.  Hence,  they  had  the  mortifica- 
tion not  only  of  failing  to  work  a  cure,  Init  of  having  to  bear  the  cavils  and 
sneers  of  the  Eabbis,  who  were  only  too  glad  to  seize  a  momentary  triumph 
at  their  expense. 

Meanwliile,  the  people  showed  Jeans  all  outAvard  respect.  The  report  of 
His  wonderful  deeds  elsewhere  had  raised  an  excitement  that  was  visible 
on  eveiy  face.  They  greeted  and  welcomed  Him,  and  were  impatient  to 
hear  what  Ho  should  say  in  this  matter  between  His  followers  and  their 
own  Doctors. 

Turning  to  these,  now  in  the  flush  of  victoi'y,  Jesus  disconcerted  them 
by  the  simple  demand  to  know  the  matter  in  dispute.  But  tliough  they 
had  been  bold  enough  before  the  humble  disciples,  they  were  silent  in  the 
commanding  presence  of  the  Mastci". 

Presently',  the  father  of  the  unfortunate  boy  pressed  through  the  crowd, 
catching  fresh  hope  that  the  Teacher  could,  perhaps,  do  what  the  disciples 
could  not.  Kneeling  before  Him,  he  told  all  that  had  happened  ;  how  the 
disciples  had  been  willing  to  help,  but  had  failed.  The  whole  story  kin- 
dled Christ's  sad  indignation.  He  had  been  long  with  both  disciples  and 
people,  and  after  all  His  mighty  acts  and  unwearied  teaching,  the  former 
had  at  best  a  dark  and  wavering  faith,  and  the  latter  were  ready  to  reject 
Him  enth'cly.  "  0  faithless  and  perverse  generation,"  cried  He,  "have  ye, 
then,  no  faitli  at  all  ?  Must  I  be  always  present  with  you?  Are  all  tlie 
proofs  you  have  had  of  my  help,  when  absent  from  you  in  body,  forgotten  ? 
Have  not  I  given  you  power  over  demons,  and  to  cure  diseases,  and  pro- 
mised to  be  with  you,  that  you  might  do  such  wonders  .f^  How  could  you 
show  such  want  of  faith  as  to  doubt  ray  promises,  and  think  anything  too 
difficult  either  to  attempt  or  do,  whether  I  am  present  with  you  or  not? 
Will  you  never  conquer  your  unbelief  ?  How  long  shall  I  suffer  you  ? 
Where  is  the  boy  ?     Bring  him  to  me." 

The  boy  was  bi-ought  at  once ;  but  his  eyes  no  sooner  met  those  of  Jesus 
than  he  was  seized  with  a  paroxysm  of  his  malady,  and  fell  on  the  ground, 
in  violent  convulsions,  and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  Insane,  dumb,  and 
writhing  on  the  earth,  no  sadder  spectacle  of  the  kind  could  well  have 
been  seen. 

It  was  desirable  that  the  throng  around  should  have  the  whole  incident 
impressed  on  their  minds,  and  it  was  necessary  for  the  permanent  good  of 
the  agonized  father  himself  that  his  faith  should  be  strengthened. 
"  How  long  has  he  suffered  in  this  way  ?  "  asked  Jesus. 
"  Prom  childhood,  and  often  the  spirit  casts  him  into  the  water  and 
into  the  fire,  to  kill  him.  But  if  Thou  canst  do  anytliing  at  all,  have  com^ 
passion  on  me  and  liira,  and  help  us." 


THE    TRANSFIGURATION.  515 

"  If  Thou  canst  ?  "  replied  Jesus,  repeating  his  words  iu  gcutle  rebuke. 
"All  things  are  jiossible  to  him  that  believes." 

The  intense  emotion  of  the  father  could  restrain  itself  no  longer.  His 
son's  cure  had  been  made  to  turn  on  his  own  confidence  in  the  Healer,  and 
that,  even  if  sincere,  might  not  be  deep  enough  to  secure  the  favour  so 
unspeakably  wished.  In  his  distress  he  could  only  break  out  into  the 
l^itiful  cry,  which  has  risen  from  unnumbered  hearts  since  his  day,  "  Yes, 
1  believe  :  help  Thou  mine  unbelief,  if  my  faith  is  too  weak." 

The  crowd  had  been  closing  in  from  all  sides  on  Jesus  and  the  unhappy 
father  and  son,  and  further  delay  was  to  be  avoided.  Turning,  therefore 
to  the  boy,  Jesus  addressed  the  demon  :  "  Speechless  and  deaf  spirit,  I 
charge  thee,  come  out  of  him,  and  enter  uo  more  into  him."  A  wild  shriek 
and  a  dreadful  convulsion  followed,  and  then  the  boy  lay  still  and  motion- 
less, so  that  he  seemed  dead.  Many,  indeed,  said  he  was  dead.  But  Jesus 
took  hira  by  the  hand,  and,  lifting  him  up,  delivered  him  to  his  father, 
amidst  the  loudly  expressed  wonder  of  the  multitude  at  the  mighty  power 
of  God. 

The  disciples,  humbled  by  their  failure,  and  unable,  in  their  sclf-dcceji- 
tiou,  to  account  for  it,  took  the  first  opportunity,  on  their  gaining  privacy, 
to  ask  their  Master  to  what  it  was  owing.  "  It  was  simply,"  said  Jesus, 
"  because  of  your  little  faith ;  indeed,  I  may  say  your  want  of  faith ;  for 
I  assure  you  that  if  you  had  steadfast,  unwavering  faith,  though  ever  so 
small,  in  my  help,  and  in  the  power  of  God,  no  difficulty  would  be  too  great 
for  you  to  remove.  You  know  how  men  call  overcoming  difficulties  '  re- 
moving a  mountain; '  I  tell  you  that  no  mountain  of  difficulty  would  be  so 
great — far  less  this  one  which  foiled  you — that  it  would  not,  at  the  word 
of  firm  trust  in  God,  be  moved  out  of  your  way."  "  As  regards  this  cure," 
He  added,  "  you  had  to  do  with  a  kind  of  demoniac  possession,  which 
especially  demands  strong  faith,  for  every  attempt  to  overcome  it  without 
such  faith  as  comes  through  prayer  so  persistent  that  it  neglects  oven  the 
needs  of  the  body  for  the  time,  must  be  fruitless.  It  never  is  the  great- 
ness of  the  difficulty,  but  only  the  weakness  of  your  faith,  that  stands  in 
your  way.     Eemember  this  in  years  to  come." 

Jesus  did  not  stay  long  in  the  district  of  Csesarea  Philippi,  but  soon 
turned  once  more  towards  Galilee,  probably  taking  the  road  hj  Dan, 
across  the  slopes  of  Lebanon,  with  the  wild  reed-forests  of  the  Huleh 
marshes  on  its  south  side,  and  on  its  north  the  huge  mountain  masses  of 
Lebanon  and  Hermou,  and  the  broad,  wcll-Avatered  sweep  of  upland  valley 
between.  He  woidd  thus  most  easily  reach  the  liills  of  Galilee  by  an 
unusual  route,  and  escape  the  publicity  of  an  approach  by  the  ordinary 
roads.  It  was  the  last  time  He  was  to  visit  the  scene  of  so  great  a  ])arb  of 
His  public  life,  and  He  felt,  as  He  journeyed  on,  that  He  could  no  more 
pass  from  village  to  village  as  openly  as  in  days  gone  by,  for  the  eyes  of 
His  enemies  were  everywhere  on  Him.  The  time  He  had  previously  given 
to  teaching  and  healing  was  now  devoted  mainly  to  the  special  preparation 
of  His  disciples  for  the  approaching  end.  Now  and  tlicn,  when  special 
occasion  demanded.  He  was  as  ready  as  ever  to  relieve  the  wretched,  or  to 
justify  aud  repeat  the  words  which  He  had  so  often  dcli^■ered  iu  the  syna- 


516  THE    LIFE    OF    CUEIST. 

gogucs  ;  but  He  usually  shunned  notice,  not  wishing,  in  the  woixls  of  St. 
]\Iark,  that  any  man  should  know.  Avoiding  the  more  populous  places, 
and  seeking  by-patlis  among  the  hills,  where  He  would  meet  few  and 
escape  notice.  He  made  His  way  towards  His  old  home,  Capernaum.  But 
Ho  could  no  longer  show  Himself  anywhere  as  He  had  done  in  the  da}s  of 
His  popularity,  for  every  word  or  act  would  have  created  new  excitement, 
and  given  a  fresh  ground  for  accusati  on.  He  had  resolved  to  go  to  Jeru- 
salem and  there  meet  His  fate,  but  He  could  only  do  this  by  guarding 
against  anything  which  might  lead  to  His  arrest  in  Galilee,  for  in  that 
case  He  would  be  tried  and  condemned  by  a  local  court.  Jerusalem  alone 
must  see  the  catastrophe,  for  it  was  the  centre  of  the  nation,  the  head- 
quarters of  the  priesthood  and  Rabbis,  His  enemies,  and  His  death  there 
would  be  distinctly  their  worlc — their  open  and  formal  rejection,  as  repre- 
sentatives of  the  nation,  of  the  ISTcw  Kingdom,  and  of  Himself  as  the 
Messiah. 

He  stayed  in  Galilee,  therefore,  only  so  long  as  His  purpose  to  go  to 
Jerusalem  perinitted,  and  meanwhile  withdrew  from  public  life,  to  devote 
Himself  especially  to  the  Twelve,  and  prejiare  them  for  His  death,  of 
which  He  seems  to  have  spoken  veiy  often.  One  of  the  fragments  of  His 
intei'course  with  them,  while  slowly  journeying  onwards  to  His  own  town, 
has  l)ecn  preserved  to  us.  "  You  have  heard,"  said  He,  "how  the  multi- 
tudes exjiress  their  amazement  at  the  mighty  power  of  God  shown  in  the 
miracles  they  have  seen  me  perform,  as  in  the  case  of  the  cure  of  the  boy 
after  my  descent  from  the  mount.  Let  their  words,  in  which  they  have 
thus  acknowledged  and  magnified  my  acts  as  not  less  than  Divine,  sink 
into  your  memories,  and  strengthen  and  confirm  your  faith  in  me  as  the 
Messiah.  For  I,  the  Son  of  man — the  Messiah — whose  mighty  works  you 
have  heard  extolled  so  greatly,  might  easily  have  set  myself  at  the  head  of 
the  people,  and  led  thorn  by  supernatural  power,  as  they  and  their  chief 
incn  wish,  to  outward  national  glory.  But  I  will  assuredly  be  abandoned 
by  the  multitude,  and  delivered  up  to  the  authorities,  because  I  will  not 
use  my  power  for  any  but  holy  and  spiritual  ends.  I  will  be  betrayed  into 
the  hands  of  my  enemies,  and  they  will  put  me  to  death,  but  I  shall  rise 
again  on  the  third  day." 

They  were  too  full  of  their  Avorldly  hopes,  which  still  mingled  strangely 
with  their  vague  recognition  of  their  Master  as  the  Sou  of  God, — too  un- 
willing also  to  think  earnestly  on  a  subject  so  unpleasant,  and  so  opposed 
to  their  ideas  of  the  Messiah, — to  understand  what  He  meant  by  these  sad 
forebodings.  He  needed  only  to  sjDeak  the  word,  and  the  peoiDle  would 
follow  Him,  and  He  might,  by  His  miraculous  power,  which  it  seemed  to 
them  could  not  be  used  for  a  nobler  end,  set  up  the  Theocracy,  as  even 
John,  apparently,  had  expected  lie  would.  Such  language  seemed  part  of 
His  dark  sayings,  with  a  secret  meaning  which  He  would  some  day  exi:)lain. 
They  would  fain  have  wished  this  explanation,  indeed,  at  once,  to  calm 
their  minds,  but  they  hesitated  to  ask  Him  for  it.  He  might,  perhaps,  if 
they  did  so,  tell  them  something  still  more  unpleasant,  as  He  had  done 
lately  to  Peter,  in  a  similar  case.  Besides,  they  did  not  like  to  think 
about  whatHiey  disliked  so  greatly,  and  turned  from  matters  which  only 


BEFORE    THE    FEAST.  517 

filled  thorn  witli  gloom  to  others  more  in  keeping  with  their  wishes  and 
hopes. 

These  offered  themselves  in  the  distinction  Jesus  often  seemed  to  make 
in  His  bearing  to  one  or  other  of  their  number.  Human  nature  is  always 
the  same,  and  jealousy  was  as  rife  in  those  daj^s  as  now.  However  iiujjar- 
tially  He  might  treat  them,  their  own  characteristics  made  it  impossible 
that  He  should  be  as  intimate  and  confidential  with  some  as  with  others. 
In  some  cases,  as  at  the  Transfiguration,  He  had  thought  fit  to  take  only  a 
few  of  them  with  Him,  and  He  seemed  lately  to  have  ]nit  especial  honour 
on  Peter,  while  His  friendship  for  John  was  closer  and  more  tender  than 
for  any  other.  All  this,  however,  would  have  troubled  the  less  favoured 
ones  little  but  for  their  almost  invincible  belief  that  He  would  soon  pro- 
claim Himself  as  the  Messiah  in  the  Jewish  sense,  and  found  a  great 
political  kingdom.  Everything  was  seen  through  this  preconception,  and 
any  marks  of  preference  were  taken  as  indications  of  future  position  in 
the  expected  revolution.  They  assumed  that,  having  been  chosen  from  all 
their  countrymen,  by  Jesus,  as  His  closest  followers,  they  would  have  the 
chief  places  in  the  new  empire  He  was  to  found,  but  there  was  abundant 
room  for  jealousy  in  their  individual  claims  to  this  or  that  prominent 
dignity.  Accustomed  to  discuss  everything  openly,  they  naturally  fell 
into  wai'm  controversy  as  to  the  just  distribution  of  the  great  offices  of 
state  among  them,  when  Jesus  should  be  installed  at  Jerusalem  as  Monarch 
of  the  world. 

In  this  dispute,  however,  their  Master  took  no  part.  Nor,  indeed,  did 
they  wish  Him  to  do  so,  for  they  had  fallen  behind,  in  order  that  He  might 
not  hear  them.  They  were  ashamed  to  have  Him  know  what  occupied 
their  thoughts,  so  little  in  harmony  with  His  teaching  and  spirit.  But  He 
had  noticed  all,  though  He  said  nothing  for  the  moment.  Meanwhile  they 
once  more  entered  Capernaum. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BEFOKE    THE   TEA  ST. 

THERE  is  something  intensely  human  in  the  return  of  Jesus  to  Caper- 
naum in  the  face  of  imminent  danger.  It  had  been  His  home,  and 
He  was  in  all  sinless  regards  a  man.  He  longed  to  see  the  old  familiar 
si)ots  once  more ;  the  hills  behind  the  town,  among  which  He  had  so  often 
wandered ;  the  shady  woods  and  orchards  and  vineyards,  rich  in  foliage, 
or  glowing  with  their  ripening  fruit  in  these  summer  months.  He  liad 
often  looked  out  from  them  on  the  sparkling  waters,  and  at  the  clustered 
houses,  which  had  yielded  the  few  whom  He  had  gathei'ed  round  Him 
in  His  long  sojourn  as  their  fellow-citizen.  These  He  would  now  fain 
strengthen  in  their  faith,  before  leaving  them  for  ever. 

His  entrance  into  the  town  was  marked  by  an  application  to  Peter, 
by  the  local  collectors  of  the  Temple  tax,  for  its  payment  by  his  JMaster. 
Moses  had  provided  funds  for  the  erection  of  the  Tabernacle,  by  tho 
imposition  of  a  tax  of  half  a  shekel  on  each  male,  payable  at  the  "nam- 


518  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

bering  of  the  peoiDle,"  and  this,  since  the  Babylonish  Captivity,  had  been 
required  yearly.  It  was  equal,  nominally,  to  about  one  and  threepence  of 
our  money,  but  really,  to  at  least  six  times  as  niTinh,  and  was  demanded 
from  all  Israelites  of  the  age  of  twenty,  even  the  poorest. 

It  was  mainly  from  this  heavy  tax,  paid  as  a  sacred  duty  by  every  Jew, 
in  whatever  country,  that  the  Temple  treasury  was  filled  v/ith  the  millions 
of  silver  coins  which  were  so  strong  a  temptation  to  lawless  greed. 
Crassus,  Sabinus,  and  Pilate,  in  succession,  had  laid  violent  hands  on  this 
unmeasured  wealth,  and  the  reckless  greed  of  Florus,  in  its  plunder,  was 
the  proximate  cause  of  the  last  great  war,  which  destroyed  both  Temple 
and  city. 

The  Shelihim,  or  "  messengers,"  who  collected  this  tax  in  Judea,  visited 
each  town  at  fixed  times.  In  foreign  countries,  places  were  appointed  for 
its  collection  in  every  city  or  district  where  there  were  Jews — and  where 
were  they  not  ? — the  chief  men  of  their  community  in  each  acting  as 
treasurer,  and  conveying  the  amounts  in  due  course  to  Jerusalem.  Tlu^ee 
huge  chests,  carefully  guarded  in  a  particular  chamber  in  the  Temple,  held 
the  yearly  receipts,  which  served,  besides  providing  the  beasts  for  sacrifice, 
to  pay  the  Rabbis,  inspectors  of  victims,  copyists,  bakers,  judges,  and  others 
connected  with  the  Temple  service,  and  numerous  women,  who  wove  or 
washed  the  Temple  linen.  It  supplied,  also,  the  costs  of  the  water  supply, 
and  of  the  repairs  of  the  vast  Temple  buildings. 

The  collection  began  in  the  Holy  Land  on  the  1st  of  Aclar — part  of  our 
February  and  March — the  month  of  the  "returning  sun,"  and  the  next 
before  that  of  the  Passover.  By  the  middle  of  it  the  official  exchangers 
in  each  town  had  set  up  their  tables,  and  opened  their  two  chests  for  the 
tax  of  the  current  and  of  the  past  year,  for  many  paid  it  for  two  years 
together.  They  supplied  for  a  trifling  charge,  to  all  who  required  it,  the 
old  sacred  shekel,  coined  by  Simon  the  Maccabee,  for  only  that  coin  was 
received  by  the  Temple  authorities,  in  homage  to  Pharisaic  and  national 
sentiment.  At  first  everything  was  left  to  the  good  will  of  the  people, 
but  after  the  25th,  prompt  payment  was  required,  and  securities,  such  as 
an  under  garment,  or  the  like,  were  taken  even  from  pilgrims  coming  up 
to  the  feast. 

It  was  very  likely,  therefore,  that  the  time  of  grace  had  expired  before 
Jesus  reached  Capernaum,  so  that  the  collectors — apparently  respectable 
citizens — felt  themselves  justified  in  broaching  the  question  to  Peter, 
whether  his  Teacher  did  not  pay  the  two  drachmas  ?  Perhaps  they  fancied 
He  was  of  the  irreconcilable  school  of  Ji;das  the  Galilasan,  who  would  pay 
no  Temple  tax  so  long  as  the  Holy  City  Avas  polluted  by  the  heathen 
Roman.  His  enemies,  indeed,  had  probably  insinuated  that  this  was  the 
case,  to  bring  Him  into  suspicion  with  the  government. 

Peter,  ever  zealous  for  his  Master's  honour,  and,  as  usual,  impulsive,  no 
sooner  heard  the  application  than  he  answered  affirmatively,  on  his  own 
authority,  and  forthwith  set  oif  to  find  Jesus  and  report  the  matter  to 
Him. 

If  the  exact  time  for  payment  had  passed  while  Christ  had  been  away 
from  Capernaum,  the    collectors    were,   doubtless,  anxious  to  gather  all 


BEFORE    THE   FEAST.  519 

arrears,  to  take  with  tliem  to  Jerusalem  at  the  approachmg  Feast  of  Taber- 
nacles in  September.  As  if  to  show  that  not  even  the  most  insignificant 
matter  that  concerned  His  disciples  escaped  His  notice,  even  when  not 
bodily  i^resent  with  them,  Peter  no  sooner  a23peared  than  He  anticipated 
his  errand  by  asking  him  his  Q^Dinion,  whether,  when  kings  levy  taxes  or 
tolls,  they  exacted  them  from  their  own  children,  or  only  from  their 
subjects  ? 

"  I  think,"  replied  Peter,  '"that  only  the  subjects  pay."  "  Then,  of  course," 
replied  Jesus,  "  the  king's  childi^en  are  free." 

He  wished  to  show  that  it  would  have  been  no  failure  of  duty  to  leave 
the  tax  unpaid.  Peter  had  already  owned  Hini  as  the  "  Son  of  God,"  and 
it  was  for  the  Temple  of  God  the  impost  was  levied.  It  might,  therefore, 
be  just  and  proper  to  collect  it  from  the  nation  at  large,  but  it  was  not 
fitting  to  ask  it  from  Him.  "  I  am  a  king  and  a  king's  son;  far  more  than 
any  Eoman  or  Herodian  prince — for  I  am  the  Son  of  God,  as  thou  hast 
said,  and  this  tax  is  for  the  Temj^le  of  God,  my  Father,  the  Great  King, 
and  thus  I  should  be  free." 

But,  while  tlius  maintaining  to  His  apostle  His  rightful  immunity,  he 
was  too  prudent  to  urge  it  in  public.  He  was  not  recognised  as  the  Son 
of  God  outside  the  little  circle  of  His  disciples,  but  was  only  an  Israelite, 
like  others,  to  men  at  large,  and,  as  such,  was  under  the  Law.  It  would 
have  given  ground  of  accusation  and  misconception  had  He  hesitated  to 
pay  what  all  Jews  gave  cheerfully  as  a  religious  duty. 

"  It  would  not  do  for  me,  nevertheless,"  continued  He,  therefore,  "  to 
seem  to  refuse.  They  would  not  understand  what  I  have  been  saying  to 
you.  Take  your  line  and  go  to  the  lake ;  you  need  not  wait  till  you  catch 
a  number  of  fish  to  make  up  the  amount.  Take  the  first  that  comes  to 
your  hook,  and  you  will  find  in  its  mouth  a  stater,  which  is  twice  as  much 
as  is  needed.     With  it  you  can  pay  for  me  and  for  yourself." 

The  result  is  not  given,  but  there  can  be  no  question  that  tlie  command 
secured  its  own  fulfilment.  No  lesson  could  have  been  given  more  suited 
to  benefit  Peter  and  his  companions.  It  taught  them  that,  though  they 
were  His  ai^ostles,  they  could  not  claim  exemption  from  labour  for  their 
own  support,  but  yet  it  quickened  them  to  a  firm  repose  on  His  watchful 
care,  which  could  heljD  them  in  any  extremity. 

They  remained  for  a  short  time  in  Capernaum,  and,  happily,  we  have  a 
glimpse  of  their  quiet  private  intercourse ;  doubtless  the  picture  of  their 
ordinary  life.  He  had  delayed  allusion  to  the  hot  discussion  on  the  way 
till  the  quiet  of  evening  and  home. 

•'  Tell  me,"  said  He,  turning  to  one  of  them,  "  about  what  were  you  dis- 
puting among  yourselves  on  the  road."  But  the  question  received  no 
answer,  for  all  were  alike  ashamed  of  their  unworthy  jealousies  and 
ambitions,  and  sat  liumbled  and  silent. 

It  was  an  opportunity  for  impressing  on  them  once  more  the  funda- 
mental characteristic  of  His  kingdom.  Their  daily  work,  as  disciples, 
reminded  them  contiimally  of  their  relations  to  it,  and  it  ah'eady  engrossed 
their  thoughts,  but  they  still  failed  to  realize  its  purely  spiritual  character. 
The  trials  waiting  them  rendered  it,  thus,  the  more  necessary  to  strengthen 


520  THE    LIFE    OP   (JHEIEiT. 

and  support  tliem  beforehand,  by  correcting  tbcir  misapprehensions,  and 
elevating  their  tone. 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  they  had  heard,  if  they  could  have  under- 
stood it,  how  utterly  His  kingdom  contrasted  with  all  their  previous  ideas. 
They  had  been  repeatedly  told  that  moral  fitness  alone  secured  entrance  to 
it,  and  that  every  external  claim — whether  the  fulfilment  of  legal  duties, 
or  national  privilege,  or  sacred  calling,  or  whatever  had  hitherto  been  sup- 
posed to  give  a  title  to  membership  in  the  old  Theocracy — must  be  aban- 
doned as  worthless.  The  reign  of  God,  now  ]n'oclaimed,  was,  in  fact,  only 
the  homage  of  the  soul,  which  had  prcpai'ed  itself,  like  a  purified  Temple, 
by  humble  repentance  and  holy  life,  to  be  a  habitation  of  His  Pleavenly 
Father.     Man  must  only  receive  from  God  ;  not  pretend  to  give  to  Him. 

Citizenship  in  the  New  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah  was  possible  only  when 
no  thought  of  claim  obtruded. 

It  was  thus,  in  effect,  simply  a  reproduction  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Him- 
self that  was  demanded,  for  the  great  characteristic  which  gave  His  life 
its  matchless  beauty,  was  His  perfect  Divine  humility.  His  lowly  meek- 
ness had  protected  Him  at  the  opening  of  His  ministry,  when  tempted  to 
self-exaltation  ;  it  had  subordinated  His  own  will,  as  by  a  law  of  His  being, 
to  that  of  God;  it  had  opened  His  heart  to  the  poor  of  His  nation,  cast 
out  and  despised  by  the  religious  pride  of  the  day ;  it  had  made  Him, 
throughout,  the  friend  of  the  ojspressed,  the  lowly,  and  the  wretched  ;  it 
had  led  Him,  of  His  free  choice,  to  despise  all  worldly  honour,  and  it  was 
now  bearing  Him,  with  a  kingly  grandeur,  to  tlic  abasement  of  the  Cross, 
that  He  might  open  to  His  people,  and  to  mankind,  the  way  to  peace  with 
their  Father  in  Heaven,  and  found  a  kingdom  of  holiness,  truth,  and  love  ; 
to  ennoble  and  bless  the  present,  and  expand  into  eternal  felicity  in  the 
world  to  come. 

It  was  vital,  therefore,  for  His  disciples,  then,  as  now,  that  they  should 
have  the  same  heavenly  temper.  Without  it,  they  could  neither  be  efficient 
instruments  in  sjoreadiug  His  kingdom,  nor  have  any  share  in  it  them- 
selves, for  it  was,  itself,  the  Kingdom — the  reign  of  God — in  the  soul. 
The  danger  of  self-elevation  had  been  greatly  increased  from  the  moment 
when  Jesus  had  accepted  from  them,  at  CjEsarea  Philippi,  their  formal  as- 
cription of  the  Messianic  dignity.  What  seductive  dreams  lay  for  Galilasan 
fishermen  in  their  being  commissioned  by  the  Messiah,  as  His  confidential 
friends,  and  the  first  dignitaries  of  His  kingdom  !  They  had,  indeed, 
heard  Jesus  speak  of  suffering  a  shameful  death,  as  the  immediate  result 
of  His  proclaiming  Himself  as  the  Messiah  ;  but  when  the  mind  is  alread}' 
preoccupied  by  strong  views,  it  is  incredibly  hard  to  turn.  Even  the  most 
discouraging  incidents  are  transformed  into  supports,  or  at  least  argued 
aside,  "  Perhaps  Jesus  had  only  spoken  thus  to  try  them ;  jierhaps  it  was 
one  of  the  dark  sayings  He  used  so  often."  Their  future  dignity  in  the 
Kingdom  had  been  the  topic  of  constant  disputes  and  discussions,  ever 
since  the  eventful  day  at  Caasarea  Philijipi,  Had  they  not  received  spiri- 
tual graces  and  powers  ?  For  what  had  they  gone  through  so  much  toil 
and  danger  ?  The  reward  could  not  be  far  distant.  When  it  came,  which 
of  them  should  have  the  first  place,  and  be  the  Minister  of  the  New  Reign  ? 


BEFORE    THE    FEAST.  521 

They  must  be  taught  how  utterly  they  deceived  themselves. 

Jesus  had  sat  down  in  the  house  and  called  the  Twelve  before  putting 
the  question.  As  they  stood  round  Him — for  disciples  of  a  Eabbi  always 
stood  when  their  masters  sat  down  to  teach  them — His  first  words  scat- 
tered the  whole  unworthy  dream  of  their  hearts. 

"  Whoever  of  you,"  said  He,  "  it  matters  not  which,  seeks  to  be  before 
the  other,  and  would  distinguish  himself  in  my  kingdom,  can  only  do  so  by 
cheerfully  stooping  to  render  even  the  humblest  services  to  all  the  rest. 
Ho  must  show  himself  the  willing  servant  of  all,  by  doing  whatever  he 
can  to  serve  the  others.  He  must  seek  and  find  his  greatness  in  this 
lowly  humility." 

Such  language  was  well-nigh  incomprehensible  to  men  misled  by  worldly 
pride  and  ambition.  They  were  thiidving  of  themselves  rather  than  of 
their  Master ;  of  receiving  rather  than  rendering ;  of  selfish  case  and 
honour,  rather  than  loving  self-sacrifice,  which  He  had  often  told  them 
was  the  condition  of  their  discipleship.  Ho,  therefore,  resolved  to  bring 
them  to  a  better  frame,  and  this  by  au  illustration  rather  than  words. 
They  knew,  by  experience,  that  even  His  most  unpalatable  and  His  darkest 
words,  had  a  greater  fulness  of  truth  than  their  imperfect  insight  could 
realize.  They  had,  doubtless,  also  at  times,  misgivings  respecting  their 
dreams  of  the  future,  though  they  could  not  as  jet  lay  these  aside.  Some 
of  them  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  ask  Him  the  particular  dignities  He 
intended  for  each,  that  future  strife  might  be  checked  by  an  authoritative 
announcement. 

Calling  a  little  boy  of  the  household ;  lifting  him  in  Plis  arms,  and 
pressing  him  fondly  to  His  breast,  as  if  to  show  how  much  nearer  such 
an  one  was  to  Him  than  even  the  Apostles  in  their  present  mood.  He  drew 
their  attention  to  tlie  child.  Love  of  children  and  of  their  childish  traits, 
had  always  marked  Him.  A  child,  in  His  eyes,  was  a  type  of  humility, — 
the  grace  so  dear  to  Him.  It  raises  no  overweening  claims  such  as  men 
advance,  and  accepts  all  its  relations  in  life  as  it  finds  them ;  it  adapts 
itself  unconsciously  to  the  lowliest  and  most  ungenial  lot,  and  finds  hap- 
piness in  it.  It  is  the  embodiment  of  dependence  and  need;  of  having 
nothing,  and  yet  looking  with  simi:)le  trust  to  a  higher  than  itself. 

The  Twelve  noted  His  act  with  wonder,  not  knowing  what  it  meant. 
He  now  proceeded  to  explain  it. 

"  You  see  this  child,"  said  He ;  "  I  tell  you  solemnly,  that,  unless  you 
abandon  your  present  worldly  ideas  and  amljitious  thoughts,  and  become 
as  simple  and  humble,  and  as  lovingly  dependent  on  God  as  it  is  on  man, 
you  shall  not  even  enter  my  Kingdom,  far  less  hold  a  high  place  in  it. 
You  see  liow  this  child  has  no  thought  but  of  perfect  loving  trust  towards 
me ;  how  it  does  not  pretend  to  give  the  woi'th  of  what  it  receives,  but 
opens  its  whole  soul  to  me  with  artless  innocence.  Such  sweet  humility 
must  be  found  in  him  who  would  seek  to  be  greatest  in  my  New  Kingdom, 
To  have  the  heart  of  a  child  is  the  fixed,  abiding,  condition  of  admission, 
of  accepted  service,  or  of  honour.  This  child  is  willing  to  be  the  least  of 
you  all,  and  to  serve  you  all,  and,  as  I  have  said,  whoever  of  j'ou  is  like  it 
in  this,  is  the  greatest  among  you.     Your  ambition  must  guide  itself  by 


622  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

this  rule.  Your  strife  shows  that  you  have  not  yet  rightly  gi-aspcd  the 
true  nature  of  my  Kingdom.  It  has  no  external  dignities  of  power  and 
rank ;  for  it  is  a  reign  of  principles,  not  a  worldly  dominion.  All  its 
members  are  therefore,  brethren,  on  a  footing  of  pei'fect  equality.  Any 
one  may,  indeed,  distinguish  himself  beyond  others,  but  not  by  external 
honour  and  dignity,  as  in  the  kingdom  set  up  by  Moses,  or  as  in  that  of 
the  Messiah  expected  by  the  nation.  The  honours  of  my  Kingdom  are 
won  only  by  spiritual  likeness  to  myself,  your  example  and  Master.  Self- 
denial,  self-sacrifice,  the  surrender  of  joerson  and  goods  for  the  sake  of  the 
brotherhood,  unselfish  love,  are  the  only  path  to  the  highest  place." 

He  had  now  answered  the  question ;  but  the  sight  of  the  child  kindled 
another  thought  of  no  less  moment.  "You  are  looking  for  great  events, 
and  thinking,  with  weak  pride,  of  your  claims  as  my  followers,  and  maybe 
tempted  to  slight  and  despise  any  one  as  spiritless,  and  beneath  you,  who 
is  humble  and  unassuming,  like  this  child  on  ray  knee.  But  let  me  tell 
you,  that  any  one  who  honours  and  receives  to  his  heart  even  a  single 
child-like  soul  which  delights  in  meekness  and  humility,  as  learned  from 
me,  has  done  the  same  in  spirit,  and  will  receive  a  like  reward  as  if  he  had 
received  me  myself,  and  done  me  personal  honour.  And  since  all  that  is 
done  to  me  from  an  honest  heart,  is  homage  done  to  my  Father  who  sent 
me.  Pie  Himself  will  show  His  approval,  for  even  the  humblest  that  lives, 
if  he  be  my  discijsle,  is  great  and  honoured  before  Him." 

The  use  of  the  words  "in  my  name  "  had,  meanwhile,  recalled  to  John 
"  the  Son  of  Thunder,"  an  incident  of  their  recent  journey.  The  Twelve 
had  met,  in  their  way,  one  casting  out  devils  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  though 
he  was  not  one  of  their  company,  and  instead  of  "  receiving "  him,  had 
charged  him  to  desist,  because  he  was  not  of  their  own  number.  John 
now  reported  the  matter,  as  if  struck  by  the  contrast  between  his  own 
conduct  and  the  counsel  just  given.  "  Forbid  him  not,"  replied  Jesus. 
"  One  Avho,  though  not  of  my  circle,  has  yet  attained  so  strong  a  faith 
in  me  that  he  works  miracles  through  my  name,  needs  not  be  feared  as 
likely,  by  any  sudden  change,  to  speak  against  me."  The  want  of  for- 
bearance had  sprung  from  the  want  of  humility,  for  pride  is  the  special 
source  of  impatience.  "  He  who  is  not  against  lis,"  continued  Jesus,  "  is 
for  us."  He  whom  John  had  treated  so  harshly  had,  at  least,  acted  in 
His  name,  though  perhaps,  with  a  veiy  imperfect  conception  of  His  true 
dignity,  or  of  the  scojoe  and  greatness  of  His  work.  But  he  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  blasphemers  who  did  not  shrink  from  speaking  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  as  a  spirit  of  evil.  Moreover,  the  nearer  the  end  approached, 
the  more  needful  it  was  to  root  out  any  signs  of  selfish  or  haughty  feelings 
in  the  Twelve,  and  to  lead  them  to  look  with  kindly  eyes  on  even  a  partial, 
if  friendly,  relationship  to  Him.  He  wished  them  to  realize  that  worthi- 
ness to  rank  in  the  New  Society  was  shown  by  the  goodwill,  and  trustful, 
child-like  spirit,  which  led  to  devotion  to  Him,  rather  than  by  the  measure 
of  knowledge  evinced.  It  was  of  great  moment,  at  this  time,  to  wake 
kindly  and  broad-hearted  feelings  towards  any,  who,  while  acting  apart, 
were  yet  well-disposed.  Were  He  once  gone,  it  would  be  left  to  His  dis- 
ciples to  continue  His  work,  and  it  would  depend  upon  them  whether  the 


BEFORE   THE   FEAST.  523 

Society  fouudcd  by  Him,  would  be  really  the  beginning  of  a  new  epoch  in 
religion,  or  only  a  piece  of  new  cloth  sewed  on  an  old  garment ;  whether  it 
would  be  a  Jewish  sect  or  a  faith  for  mankind. 

"  No  one  is  to  be  lightly  esteemed,"  continued  Jesus,  "  who  shows  you 
the  slightest  mark  of  goodwill  or  friendship,  were  it  only  what  all  give  so 
readily  in  these  sultry  lands,  a  drink  of  cold  water,  when  given  because 
you  are  my  disciples.  Even  this  will  be  rcAvarded  by  God  as  an  act  woi'thy 
His  favour.  Nor  are  you,  only,  thus  honoured.  So  precious  to  me  is  the 
humble  child-like  spirit  which  you  are  ready  to  despise,  that  if  any  one, 
by  words  or  deeds,  cause  even  one  such  soul  who  believes,  to  turn  away 
from  me;  as  j-ou  were  in  danger  of  doing  when  j-ou  forbade  the  stranger 
to  cast  out  devils  in  my  name ;  it  would  bo  better  for  him  that  one  of  tlie 
huge  mill-stones  turned  by  an  ass  were  hung  I'ouud  his  neck,  and  he 
drowned  in  the  depths  of  the  lake,  that  he  might  be  saved  from  so  great 
a  sin. 

"  Alas  for  the  world-wide  sorroAv  which  the  sins  of  many,  who  will  call 
themselves  mine,  will  cause,  by  keeping  men  from  me  !  They  will  judge 
of  me  by  these  unworthy  followers,  and  keep  aloof  from  my  Kingdom.  It 
cannot,  indeed-,  be  otherwise,  for  the  evil  that  is  in  man  will  make  even 
the  name  of  religion  a  scandal.  But  how  awful  the  judgment  that  awaits 
him  wdio  turns  another  from  the  way  of  life  ! 

"  I  have  said  that  it  would  be  better  for  a  man  to  die  than  that  he  should 
lead  another  astray.  So,  whatever  may  tempt  you  to  sin,  and  thus  bring 
scandal  on  my  name,  had  much  better  be  put  from  you,  at  any  cost.  If 
anything,  therefore,  however  dear  to  you,  incites  you  to  evil,  or  keeps  you 
from  a  godly  life,  thrust  it  from  you.  If  the  most  precious  members  of 
the  body— a  foot  or  a  hand — be  cut  off,  to  prevent  death  of  the  whole ;  how 
much  rather  should  we  put  away,  at  any  sacriiice,  any  sins  of  thought 
or  act,  which,  by  misleading  others,  would  cause  us  to  lose  eternal  life, 
and  be  cast  into  hell-fire,  where  the  worm  never  dies,  and  the  fire  is  not 
cpienched. 

"  Every  one  cast  into  the  fire,  which  the  prophet  thus  calls  unquenchable 
— every  one,  that  is,  who  gives  himself  up  to  sin — shall  certainly  suffer 
the  wi'atli  of  God,  and  be  salted  with  fire,  as  the  victims  on  the  altar 
are  salted  with  salt.  But  every  one  whose  humble  and  steadfast  faith  in 
me  has  shown  him  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  pure  and  worthy  sacrifice,  fit  to  be 
laid  on  the  altar  of  God,  will,  on  his  entrance  into  the  heavenly  kingdom  of 
the  Messiah,  be  salted,  not  with  fire,  but  with  the  gift  of  higher  grace, 
that  he  may  endure  unto  life  eternal.  Salt  is  of  value  to  prevent  corrup- 
tion, and  I  have,  before  now,  called  you  'the  salt  of  the  earth  ; '  because,  if 
you  are  my  true  disciples,  you  will  arrest  the  corruption  that  prevails 
among  men,  and  make  the  community  sound.  How  dreadful,  however,  if 
you,  the  salt,  lose  your  savour !  How  will  you  regain  it  ?  If  you  turn  to 
evil,  and,  through  sloth  or  faint-heartedness,  be  untrue  to  your  calling,  how 
can  your  needful  energy  and  efficiency  be  restored  ?  You  wish  to  be 
accepted  at  last  as  pure  and  worthy  offerings  to  God,  and  to  receive  the 
gift  of  heavenly  wisdom,  which  is  everlasting  life.  To  attain  it,  take  care 
to  guard  the  salt  of  true  wisdom,  which  has  been  already  given  you — the 


524  THE   LIFE    OF   UlIUIST. 

grace  bestowed  on  you  to  be  my  disciples.  Remember,  moreover,  that  salt 
is  the  symbol  of  peace  ;  be  at  peace  among  yourselves,  and  do  not  di.spute 
and  argue  as  you  have  been  doing,  lest  you  lose  t])e  power  and  fruits  of 
my  teaching." 

Jesus  had  for  the  time  digressed  from  His  original  subject — the  humble 
and  child-like  amono;  His  followers — but  now  returned  to  it. 

"  Respecting  those  little  ones  of  whom  I  was  speaking — lowly,  self-dis- 
trustful ;  weak  yet  it  may  ])e  in  faith,  as  little  children  are  in  strength — I 
would  further  say :  Take  heed  that  ye  do  not  slight  or  contemn  any  one  of 
them,  for  I  tell  you,  so  greatly  honoured  and  so  dear  are  they  in  the  sight 
of  God,  that  the  humblest  of  them,  for  their  very  humility,  are  placed  by 
Him  under  the  loving  care  of  the  highest  angels,  who  stand  before  Him, 
and  see  His  face  continually.  Glorious  though  all  angels  be,  only  such 
exalted  spirits— the  princes  of  heaven— are  thought  worthy,  by  God,  to 
minister  to  them  and  protect  them. 

To  slight  or  despise  even  one  such  would,  indeed,  be  to  undo,  so  far,  the 
very  end  for  which  I  have  come  as  the  Messiah.  You  may,  by  doing  so, 
turn  him  away  from  me,  and  so  cause  his  soul  to  bo  lost.  Much  i-ather,  if 
you.  meet  with  a  humble  spirit,  still  weak  in  the  faith,  which  has  gone 
astray,  should  you  do  your  utmost  to  bring  it  back.  For  what  shepherd 
feeding,  it  may  be,  a  hundred  sheep,  in  our  upland  pastures,  if  one  of 
them  stray,  does  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine,  and  set  off  into  the  hills  to 
seek  for  the  one  that  has  wandered  ?  And  if  he  be  so  happy  as  to  find  it, 
I  say  to  you,  beyond  doubt  he  rejoices  more  over  the  one  thus  saved  than 
over  the  ninety  and  nine  that  had  not  strayed.  In  the  same  way  as  it 
grieves  the  shepherd  if  even  one  of  his  sheep  should  be  lost,  so  it  grieves 
my  Father  in  Heaven  that  one  of  these  feeble,  simple  souls  should  perish, 
and  it  sorely  displeases  Him  if  it  do  so  by  the  neglect  or  fault  of  any  of 
my  disciples. 

"  Let  me  pass  to  a  distinct,  yet  related  subject — the  proper  treatment  of  a 
brother  in  the  faith  who  does  you  any  wrong,  by  anger,  envy,  selfishness, 
or  in  any  other  way.  Do  not  wait  till  he  who  has  thus  injured  you  comes 
to  you  to  make  amends,  but  go  to  him  by  yourself,  and  tell  him  his  fault 
in  private  ;  that,  if  possible,  you  may  get  him  to  own  it  between  you  and 
him  alone,  and  thus  the  scandal  of  difference  between  disciples  spread  no 
farther,  and  he  be  won  for  my  New  Kingdom,  from  which  he  would  have 
been  shut  out,  if,  by  refusing  to  be  reconciled,  he  had  shown  no  repentance. 
Seek  his  good,  not  your  own  justification  merely ;  however  wronged,  think 
less  of  yourself  than  of  his  eternal  salvation. 

"  If,  however,  he  will  not  listen  to  your  kindly  remonstrance  and  per- 
suasion, go  a  second  time  to  him,  taking  two  or  three  witnesses  Avith  you, 
as  Moses  directed  in  other  cases  ;  if,  perchance,  though  he  has  not  been 
moved  by  your  single  api^eal,  that  of  two  or  three,  sujiporting  you,  may 
lead  him  to  see  and  acknowledge  his  fault.  Their  testimony,  besides,  Avill 
prevent  his  denial  of  his  confession,  should  he  make  one,  and  afterAvards 
repudiate  it ;  AAdiile,  if  he  refuse  to  listen  and  to  admit  his  fault,  and  the 
matter  must  be  brought  before  the  Assemblj^  it  Avill  establish  and  confirm 
at  once  the  fact  of  your  private  visit  for  attempted  reconciliation,  and  his 


BEFOEE    THE    FEAST.  525 

stuljboru  refusal  to  hear  even  the  two  or  three  brethren  taken  with  you 
on  the  second  visit. 

"  The  Rabbis  enjoin  that  the  offender  shall  go  to  him  whom  he  has 
injured,  and  own  his  fault,  and  that  if  he  cannot  thus  procm-e  forgiveness, 
he  shall  take  others  with  him  and  seek  to  obtain  it ;  but  I  require  that  he 
who  is  wronged  do  this,  that  he  may  show  his  humility  and  his  patient 
love  for  a  guilty  brother. 

"  You  know,  moreover,  how  a  stubborn  offender,  who  refuses  private 
amends,  is  at  last  publicly  reproved  in  the  synagogue  and  in  the  schools. 
In  my  new  society,  the  congregation  of  the  new  Israel — the  Kahal,  or 
assembly  of  my  followers,  which  will,  hereafter,  be  called  the  Churcb, — 
is  to  make  a  third,  final,  attempt  to  win  the  guilty  one  to  repentance.  You 
are  to  tell  the  facts  to  the  '  congregation,'  and  ask  their  godly  offices,  and 
they,  through  appointed  representatives,  will  then  seek  to  bring  him  to  a 
right  frame  of  mind.  If,  after  all,  he  refuse  to  hear  even  the  congregation, 
you  are  freed  from  further  responsibility,  and  are  absolved  from  all  future 
religious  relationship  to  him  ;  as  you  have  hitherto  thought  yourselves  to 
be  from  the  heathen,  and  from  men  of  vicious  life,  such  as  the  publicans. 
Not  that  you  are  to  despise  him,  or  refuse  him  the  common  offices  of 
humanity,  as  your  countrymen  do  to  such  classes ;  yoii  are  still  to  love 
and  seek  to  wiu  him  back,  even  till  the  very  last,  as  your  Heavenly  Father 
does  with  the  unthankful  and  evil. 

"  Let  every  offender  think  how  solemn  his  position  will  be  if  thus  obdu- 
rate before  the  congregation.  I  have  already  given  Peter — as  the  key- 
bearer  of  my  spiritual  Temple,  the  New  Society  I  have  founded — power  to 
forbid  and  allow,  to  enact  and  define,  what  is  needed  for  its  future  govern- 
ment and  discipline,  and  have  told  you  that  what  he  ordains,  so  far  as  it  is 
in  harmony  with  the  mind  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  will  be  confirmed  by  mo 
in  heaven,  as  if  I  were  still  with  you  on  earth.  This  power  I  now  extend 
to  you  all,  my  twelve  faithful  followers,  and  I  give  you,  as  a  body,  the 
same  assurance  of  my  coiifirmation  of  what  you  appoint  for  the  govern- 
ment of  my  Society.  Peter  is,  thus,  oaly  the  first  among  equals.  If  the 
remedy  I  have  jiointed  out  be  insufficient  to  meet  such  offences  as  my 
Kingdom  extends,  I  leave  it  to  you  to  devise  and  apply  what  other  means 
may  seem  needed,  as  the  occasion  demands.  And  that  you  may  feel  how 
formally  and  solemnly  I  now,  before  my  departure,  depute  this  power  to 
you,  I  tell  you,  further,  that  if  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  any  matter,  thus 
affecting  the  salvation  of  souls  by  the  right  discipline  of  my  Church,  or 
for  other  good  ends,  and  shall  ask  my  Father  in  Heaven  to  grant  your 
desire.  He  will  do  so.  For  where  two  or  three  of  you  are  gathered  together 
in  my  name,  I  am  in  their  midst,  so  that  you  need  not  doubt  my  promise, 
that  what  even  so  few  agree  to  ask  my  Father,  in  matters  pertaining  to 
my  Kingdom,  will  be  granted." 

The  Twelve  had  listened  to  their  Master  in  reverent  silence,  but  now 
the  ever  self -asserting  Peter,  still  intensely  Jewish  in  feeling,  interrupted 
Him  by  a  question  conceived  in  the  narrow  and  formal  spirit  of  Eab- 
biuism. 

"Lord,"'  said  he,  "our  teachers  tell  us  that  if  a  person  do  us  wrong  we 


526  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

arc  to  forgive  him,  a  first.,  secoud,  and  third  time,  but  uoL  a  fourth.     What 
sayest  Thou  ?     WoukI  seven  times  be  enough  ?" 

"  I  am  far  from  limiting  my  requirement  to  seven  times,"  i-cplied  Jesus. 
"  Instead  of  that,  if  you  be  of  a  truly  humble  and  child-like  spirit,  as  you 
ought,  you  will  forgive  to  seventy  times  seven — that  is,  any  number  of 
times.     Let  me  show  you  my  thoughts  on  this  point  by  a  parable. 

"  The  subjects  of  my  kingdom  are  like  the  servants  of  a  certain  ruler, 
with  whom  their  lord  would  make  a  reckoning.  So  he  called  before  him 
his  revenue  collectors,  the  gatherers  of  his  taxes  and  tolls,  and  domandcd 
a  settlement  from  them.  Among  others,  one  was  brought  to  him  who 
owed  him  ten  thousand  talents — that  is,  thirty  millions  of  shekels — a  sura 
it  was  hopeless  for  him  to  think  of  repaying.  When  the  king  heard  how 
much  he  owed,  he  cried  out  that  '  he  ivould  be  paid,'  and  commanded  him 
to  be  sold  as  a  slave,  with  his  wife  and  children,  and  all  that  he  had,  in 
satisfaction  of  the  debt.  Hearing  this,  the  servant  fell  down  before  him, 
beseeching  him,  'Lord,  have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all.'  At 
this  his  lord  was  moved  with  compassion,  and  having  ordered  him  to  be 
unbound,  not  only  gave  him  time,  as  he  had  asked,  but,  knowing  he  could 
never  pay,  forgave  him  the  debt  altogether. 

"  This  servant,  however,  thus  freely  forgiven,  went  out  and  found  one  of 
his  fellow-sei'vants  who  owed  him  a  hundred  denarii — less  than  the  seven 
hundred-thousandth  of  what  he  had  himself  owed — and  laid  hold  of  him 
by  the  throat,  saying  fiercely,  '  Pay  what  you  owe.'  The  debtor  thereupon 
fell  down  at  his  feet,  as  he  had  fallen  at  those  of  his  lord,  and  besought 
him,  'Have  patience  with  mc,  and  T  will  pay  thee.'  But  he  had  no  pity, 
and  cast  him  into  prison,  till  he  should  pay  the  debt.  His  fellow-servants, 
seeing  what  was  being  done,  were  troubled  at  such  hardheartedness,  and 
at  the  ill-treatment  of  the  poor  man,  and  came  and  told  their  lord  all  that 
had  happened.  Then  the  lord,  having  called  the  offender,  said  to  him,  '  O 
wicked  servant,  I  forgave  you  all  the  great  debt  you  owed  me,  because  you 
asked  me,  though  you  sought  only  time,  not  forgiveness.  Should  not  you 
also  have  had  pity  on  your  fellow- servant,  as  I  had  pity  on  you  ?  And  his 
lord  was  indignant,  and  delivered  him  over  to  the  torturers,  to  deal  with 
liim  in  the  prison-house  as  they  thought  fit,  till  he  should  pay  all  that  was 
due  to  hiiu. 

"  So,  the  forgiveness  God  has  gi-anted  you,  of  your  great  debt  to  Him, 
which  you  could  never  pay — the  guilt  of  your  sins— must  lead  you  from 
your  heart  to  forgive  your  brother  man,  not  seven,  but  any  number  of 
times,  the  far  smaller  debt  he  may  owe  you  :  for  if  you  do  not  foi'give  him, 
the  wrath  of  God  will  burn  upon  you  at  the  great  day,  and  you  will  be 
cast  into  evei-lasting  punishment." 

The  transcendent  loftiness  of  Chi'ist's  spiritual  nature  shines  out  through 
this  whole  episode.  In  His  perfect  humility.  He  makes  no  personal  claims. 
As  on  every  occasion.  He  declares  simplicity,  and  lowliness,  like  that  of 
childhood,  the  mark  of  true  discipleship ;  asks  no  higher  or  luore  signal 
acknowledgment,  as  a  man,  than  was  to  be  shown  to  all  others  ;  and  ranks 
the  friendly  and  kind  treatment  of  any  of  His  followers  as  if  done  to  Him- 
self.    Ho  demands  no  exclusive  honour,  but,  on  the  coijtrary,  every  child- 


AT   THE   FEAST   OF   TABEENACLES.  527 

like  spirit  in  the  kingdom  of  God  has  in.  His  sight  a  priceloss  value, 
however  slight  the  instance  by  which  its  character  was  shown.  The  good 
deed  done  to  the  least  of  His  people  is  considered  as  personal  to  Himself. 
Neither  now,  nor  at  any  time,  does  He  bear  Himself  as  one  to  whom  all 
Avere  to  bow  as  servants  ;  He  takes  His  place  in  the  midst  of  the  little 
l^and  round  Him,  as  one  who  shares  with  them  the  highest  and  holiest 
joys.  Within  this  circle  we  ever  find  Him  strengthening  and  encouraging 
each  to  surrender  himself  for  the  good  of  the  rest,  and  to  cheer  and  honour 
especially,  the  humljlest,  the  least  esteemed,  the  most  unpretentious  ;  or, 
it  may  be,  the  mere  workers  who  could  not  push  themselves  into  notice. 
Meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  He  was  no  less  of  an  inflnite  pitj*.  The  New 
Society,  taught  by  Tlis  example  and  words,  learned  that  they  were  to  re- 
produce the  spirit  of  little  children,  in  that  hitherto  unimagined  grandeur 
of  humility  which  almost  rejoices  to  suffer  because  it  gives  an  opportunity 
to  forgive. 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 

AT   THE     FEAST   OF   TABEENACLES. 

THE  seventh  month,  Tisri,  part  of  our  September  and  October,  "  the 
month  of  the  full  streams,"  and  the  autumnal  equinox,  had  now  come. 
Nisan,  "the  flower  month,"  known  of  old  as  Abib,  "the  earing  month," 
had  seen  the  Passover  go  by  without  the  presence  of  Jesus.  Ijjar,  "  the 
beautiful  month,"  with  its  blossoming  trees ;  Siwan,  "  the  bright ;  "  Tam- 
muz;  Ab,  "  the  fruit  month  ;  "  and  Elul,  "  the  month  of  wine;  "  had  gone 
by  in  the  journey  to  Tyre  and  Sidon  and  to  Cossarea  Philippi.  Jesus  had 
now  been  well-nigh  half  a  year  little  better  than  an  outlawed  fugitive, 
hiding,  in  unsuspected  districts,  from  His  enemies.  The  fifteenth  day  of 
Tisri  was  the  first  of  the  great  harvest  feast  of  the  year,  that  of  Taber- 
nacles ;  a  time  all  the  more  joyful  from  its  coming  only  four  days  after  the 
Day  of  Atonement — the  close  of  the  Jewish  Lent.  Galilee  was  no  longer 
open  to  Him,  and  the  Kingdom  was  yet  to  be  proclaimed  in  Jerusalem, 
the  haughty  city  of  the  Temple  aiid  of  David.  He  knew  that  to  go  there 
would  be,  sooner  or  later,  to  die  ;  but,  with  this  clearly  before  Him,  He 
calmly  resolved,  at  the  summons  of  duty,  to  transfer  the  sphere  of  His 
activity  from  the  remote  and  secluded  security  of  the  North  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Rabbis  and  priests.  He  had  come  into  the  world  to  be  the 
Lamb  of  God,  bringing  salvation  to  His  people  and  mankind  by  the  pro- 
clamation of  the  New  Kingdom,  sealed  with  His  blood  ;  and  Jerusalem 
alone,  the  seat  of  the  dispensation  He  came  to  supersede,  was  the  fitting 
scene  for  inaugurating  the  economy  that  was  to  take  its  place. 

He  was  still  in  Capernaum  when  the  great  caravan  of  pilgrims  began  to 
pass  to  the  feast.  His  relations,  who  as  yet  had  declared  neither  for  nor 
against  Him,  had,  apparently,  come  over  from  Nazareth  to  get  Him  to  go 
up  to  Jerusalem  with  them.  They  could  not  ha^e  felt  any  hostility  to 
One  whose  holy  life  had  passed  under  their  eyes,  but,  like  the  nation  ab 
large,  they  clung  to  what  they  had  always  been  taught  by  the  Eabbis, — 


528  THE   LIFE    OF   CIIKIST. 

that  the  Messiah  was  to  restore  Israel  to  national  glory,  and  to  transfer 
the  sceptre  of  universal  power  fi-om  Rome  to  Jerusalem.  In  their  worldly 
wisdom  they  could  not  understand  Him.  It  seemed  to  them  unwise  that 
He  should  stay  in  a  corner  of  the  land,  if  He  wished  to  establish  the  king- 
dom of  the  Messiah.  The  Eabbis,  as  He  knew,  taught  that  it  was  to  be 
set  up  in  Jerusalem,  and  it  was  clear  that  it  could  be  extended  best  from 
the  Holy  City,  as  a  centre.  Why  did  He  not  go  up  with  them  now,  they 
asked,  to  the  feast,  that  all  who  were  friendly  to  Him,  or  who  might 
become  so,  might  see  His  miracles,  and  thus  be  constrained  to  support 
Him?  "Nobody,"  they  urged,  "who  aimed  at  being  a  great  national 
leader,  as  they  fancied  He  did  by  His  claiming  to  be  the  Messiah,  could 
hope  for  success  if  all  the  '  signs '  which  were  to  rally  the  people  round 
Him,  were  wrought  in  an  out-of-the-way  place  like  Galilee.  He  had  not 
been  at  the  last  Passover,  or  at  Pentecost,  when  the  people  were  gathered  in 
the  Holy  City  from  all  the  land,  and,  indeed,  from  all  the  world ;  but 
He  might,  perhaps,  repair  this  error  even  yet,  if  He  went  up  now  and  dis- 
played His  power  to  the  assembled  myriads  of  Israel.  If  they  accepted 
Him  as  Messiah,  their  very  numbers  would  sweep  away  the  heathen  like 
cliaff  before  the  wind,  especially  Avhen  supported  by  miraculous  help.  It 
v,'as  unwise  to  keep  back  iu  this  obscure  and  hidden  district ;  He  should 
show  Himself  openly  to  the  Jewish  woild,  which  He  could  only  do  in 
Jerusalem." 

"  You  think  the  present  the  fit  moment  for  carrying  out  my  plans,"  said 
Jesus.  "You  err.  It  is  not  yet  the  divinely  appointed  time  for  my  doing 
this.  You  may  go  up  openly  before  all  Israel,  at  any  time,  because  j-ou 
and  they  are  at  one  in  not  receiving  me.  They  have  no  reason  to  hate 
you,  nor  have  the  priests  and  Rabbis,  their  leaders  ;  but  they  hate  me, 
because  I,  the  Light  of  the  World,  the  true  Messiah,  on  whom  all  should 
believe,  am  a  standing  protest  against  them,  that  they  sin  in  hating  and 
persecuting  me  as  a  transgressor  of  the  Law  and  a  blasphemer,  because 
I  have  witnessed  against  their  corruption  and  hypocrisy.  They  wish  a 
political  Messiah ;  I  seek  only  spiritual  ends.  Go  up,  yourselves.  The 
present  time  does  not  suit  me  to  go  with  you."  Their  hope  that  He 
would  lift  the  family  to  the  highest  honour,  by  heading  a  national  Mes- 
sianic movement,  had  come  to  nothing. 

The  object  of  His  delay  was  to  avoid  going  with  the  great  Galilasan 
caravan,  which  entered  the  Holy  City  with  public  rejoicings.  He  would 
be  recognised  at  once,  and  the  multitude,  in  the  excitement  of  the  time, 
might  again  try  to  force  Him  into  political  action.  Publicity  and  popular 
enthusiasm  would  have  drawn  the  attention  of  those  in  power,  and  this  He 
at  present  earnestly  wished  to  avoid.  His  work  was  not  to  be  rashly 
broken  off  by  any  imprudent  act,  for  He  needed  all  the  opportunities  that 
remained,  to  devote  Himself  to  the  Twelve  and  to  His  other  followers. 
He  could  go  up  a  few  days  later,  and  thus  avoid  the  caravan.  The  feast 
lasted  seven  days,  closing  with  the  eighth  as  the  greatest,  and  thus,  even 
if  He  started  later.  He  could  mingle  with  the  multitudes,  and  find  out 
how  men  felt  towards  Him  and  His  work,  and  proclaim  the  New  Kingdom 
as  He  saw  fit.     The  danger  would  be  averted,  and  His  great  end  better 


AT  THE  FEAST  OF  TABERNACLES.  529 

served.  It  was  more  in  keeping  with  His  spirit  to  avoid  all  appearance  of 
courting  popularity,  and  peacefully  deliver  His  great  message  of  love ; 
leaving  its  reception  to  its  own  charms,  and  to  the  lowly  humility,  self- 
denial,  and  gentleness  with  which  it  was  delivered. 

AVaiting,  therefore,  for  some  days,  till  things  were  quiet.  He  started  with 
the  Twelve,  and  a  number  of  disciples,  for  Jerusalem.  Crossing  Esdrae- 
lou,  now  stripped  of  its  harvest,  Eugannim,  the  "  fountain  of  gardens," 
saw  Him  once  more  on  Samaritan  soil.  The  caravans  had  perhaps  gone 
over  the  Jordan,  to  travel  down  its  eastern  bank,  and  thus  avoid  the 
pollution  of  the  direct  route  through  hated  Samaria. 

He  had  been  kindly  received  in  the  alien  district  on  His  former  passage 
through  it,  northwards ;  but  He  was  now  going  towards  Jerusalem  instead 
of  leaving  it,  and  this  was  enough  to  rouse  the  bitterness  of  the  Sama- 
ritans. As  was  His  custom,  He  had  sent  on  messengers  before  Him  to 
secure  hospitality  for  the  night,  but  it  was  at  once  refused.  John  and 
James,  "  the  Sons  of  Thunder,"  who  had  perhaps  been  the  messengers, 
were  especially  indignant,  and  showed  how  little  they  had  profited  by  the 
lessons  of  meekness  they  had  so  long  been  receiving.  With  the  harsh 
Jewish  feeling,  which  regarded  every  one  except  a  Jew  as  accursed  and 
hateful  to  God,  and  sought  to  establish  the  New  Kingdom,  not  by  mildness 
and  love,  but  by  force,  they  would  fain  have  had  fire  called  down  from 
heaven  to  consume  the  unfriendly  village.  They  had  pei'haps  spoken 
of  Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  but,  in  any  case,  His  fame  had,  no  doubt,  already 
crossed  the  border.  But  the  Samaritans  expected  from  the  Messiah  that 
He  would  restore  the  Temple  on  Mount  Gerizim,  and  instead  of  that, 
Jesus  was  going  up  to  a  feast  in  Jerusalem.  John  and  James,  however, 
could  make  no  allowance.  Elijah  had  once  called  fire  from  heaven  in  his 
own  honour  :  how  much  more  should  men  perish  who  had  rejected  the 
Messiah.  The  teaching  of  Jesus  had  not  as  yet  softened  the  fierce  Jewish 
spirit  of  the  Twelve.  Fanatical  bitterness  had  struck  its  roots  into  their 
deepest  nature.  How  utterly  were  they  still  wanting  in  patience  towards 
the  erring,  and  filled  only  with  the  thought  of  -m-ath  and  destruction  ! 
They  had  not  yet  realized  th  at  the  Kingdom  of  Jesus  is  one  of  faith  alone ; 
that  it  cannot  be  spi'ead  by  compulsion  and  violence,  but  must  spring 
from  humility  and  love;  that  it  must  rest  on  free  and  honest  conviction, 
and  can  grow  strong  and  abiding  only  when  received  and  obeyed  in  a 
child-like  spirit. 

Deeply  troubled,  and  no  less  offended,  Jesus  turned  towards  the  fierce 
zealots,  and  rebuked  their  foolish  and  cruel  harshness.  They  had  heard 
Him  say  that  He  came  to  serve,  not  to  reign ;  to  suffer  for  others,  not  to 
inflict  suffering  on  any  ;  and  He  had  but  lately  told  them,  once  and  again, 
how  He  was  about  to  give  Himself  up  to  death  for  the  good  of  the  world. 
But  though  their  ears  had  heard,  and  their  conscience  approved,  theii* 
hearts  had  not  willingly  accepted  the  intimation,  and  hence  they  were  ever 
ready  to  flame  out  into  Jewish  fanaticism.  Eebuking  them  sternly,  He 
taught  them  a  needed  lesson,  by  merely  passing  to  another  village. 

It  was  hard  for  the  discii)les  to  realize  that,  to  be  followers  of  Jesus, 
they  must  surrender  themselves  unconditionally  to  the  will  of  God,  and 

M   M 


530  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

devote  themselves  to  the  work  of  the  Kingdom,  without  a  lingering  tic  to 
the  world  they  had  left.  The  circumstances  demanded  explicit  statements 
of  all  that  discipleship  thus  involved,  and  hence,  when  fresh  applicants  for 
the  honour  presented  themselves,  Jesus  was  more  frank  and  earnest,  if 
possible,  than  ever  before,  in  setting  the  cost  before  them.  A  Samaritan 
had  come  forward  asking  leave  to  follow  Him,  as  if  to  show  that  all  were 
not  like  the  villagers  who  had  treated  Him  so  unkindly.  It  may  be  he  had 
very  imjoerfect  ideas  of  what  his  wish  implied,  but  Jesus  did  not  leave  him 
in  doubt.  He  told  him  His  own  position,  and  all  that  awaited  His  dis- 
ciples ;  that  He  had  forsaken  house  and  home  for  ever,  and  that  the  birds 
of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  had  a  lot  to  be  envied  compared 
with  His. 

The  seeming  harshness  of  His  replies  to  two  others,  perhaps  Samaritans, 
who  also  asked  leave  to  follow  Him,  is  explained  by  these  facts.  From 
the  first  He  had  held  out  no  rewards,  but  predicted  only  privation  and 
suffering  to  His  disciples  ;  but  these  were  closer  at  hand  now  than  they 
had  been  when  He  called  the  Twelve.  To  follow  Him  had  come  to  mean, 
literally,  to  leave  all,  and  to  make  up  one's  mind  to  the  worst.  He  was  a 
mark  for  the  fiercest  hatred  of  those  in  authority,  and  His  followers  could 
not  escape  suffering  with  their  Master,  The  most  utter,  unqualified  devo- 
tion, the  purest  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  were  required.  "Let  the  dead, 
those  who  will  not  receive  the  preaching  of  the  Kingdom,  bury  their  dead," 
said  He,  to  one  who  wished  to  bury  his  father.  "  Surrender  yourself  ut- 
terly to  God."  Another,  whose  want  of  the  supreme  resolution  demanded, 
showed  itself  in  a  request  to  be  allowed  to  bid  farewell  to  his  friends,  was 
told  that  it  could  not  be.  "  The  prayers,  the  tears  of  your  circle  at  homo, 
might  shake  your  decision  to  consecrate  yourself  wholly  to  the  kingdom 
of  God." 

It  was  now  many  months  since  the  sending  out  of  the  Twelve  on  their 
first  missionary  journey.  It  had  been  necessary  to  confine  them  to  strictly 
Jewish  ground,  to  avoid  offence,  and  from  their  own  defective  sympathy 
with  other  populations.  I3oth  difliicultics  were  now,  however,  in  part  re- 
moved :  the  openly  hostile  attitude  of  the  leaders  of  the  nation  made  it 
unnecessary  to  consider  their  prejudices  ;  the  Apostles  had,  in  some  de- 
gree, gained  broader  charity;  and,  above  all,  the  near  approach  of  the  end 
made  it  desirable  that  the  full  grandeur  of  the  New  Kingdom,  as  intended 
for  all  men  alike,  should  be  clearly  shown  before  its  Founder's  death,  that 
there  might  be  no  possible  misconception  afterwards.  Jesus  had  always 
yearned  to  proclaim  the  words  of  life  to  the  different  races  Avhom  He  saw 
around  Him.  A  boundless-  field  opened  itself  for  the  missionary  labours 
of  any  numl)er  of  disciples,  and  He  now  had  round  Him  a  larger  number 
than  formerly,  whom  He  could  thus  emi:)loy.  He  determined,  therefore,  to 
send  out  no  fewer  than  seventy,  which,  in  Jewish  opinion,  was  the  number 
of  the  nations  of  the  world.  The  lesson  could  not  be  doubtful.  It  was  a 
significant  announcement  that,  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  man, 
a  universal  religion  w^as  being  proclaimed. 

Samaria,  through  which  He  was  passing,  had  naturally  the  first  claim 
on  the  new  enterprise,  and  that  all  the  more  from  the  proof  of  its  need 


AT    THE    FEAST    OF   TABEEISfACLES.  531 

of  spiritual  light,  furnished  by  the  inhospitality  shown  to  Him  who  was 
bringing  that  light  to  its  borders. 

The  Seventy,  journeying  tAvo  and  two,  were  directed  to  carry  the  mes- 
sage of  jieace  to  all  the  habitations  of  the  race  they  had  former]}^  as  Jews, 
so  hated.  They  had  grown  up  from  eliildhood  in  tlie  narrowest  Pharisaic 
spirit,  and  were  still,  in  some  measure,  under  its  spell.  The  Eabl)is  did 
not  permit  any  close  intercourse  of  Jews  with  heathen  or  Samaritans ; 
they  were  forbidden  to  enter  their  houses,  or  return  their  greetings,  and, 
still  more,  to  join  them  in  a  common  meal.  But  the  gi'and  maxims  of  charity 
and  love,  which  Jesus  had  so  often  taught,  were  now  to  bo  put  in  practice. 
Jewish  exclusiveness  was  to  be  done  away  for  ever,  by  the  proclamation 
of  a  Saviour  of  Mankind.  His  messengers,  therefore,  while  losing  no 
time  on  the  Avay  by  long  and  formal  salutations,  were  to  bear  themselves 
with  loving  trust  even  among  hostile  populations,  taking  neither  purse  nor 
wallet,  and  wearing  only  the  sandals  of  the  poor — to  show  their  lowly 
spirit,  and  humble  personal  claims.  The  instructions  given  formerly  to 
the  Twelve,  were,  in  fact,  repeated ;  instructions  then  as  amazing  as  if 
Hindoo  Brahmins  of  to-day  were  sent  forth  with  orders  to  care  nothing 
for  caste,  and  associate  freely,  and  even  eat,  with  abhorred  Pariahs  and 
Sudras.  The  Seventy  were  to  join,  without  hesitation  or  reserve,  in  the 
household  life  of  the  hated  Samaritans,  and  eat  w'ith  them  at  their  tables  1 
ISTo  other  condition  of  spiritual  brotherhood  was  to  be  required  than  that 
of  a  believing  reception  of  the  salvation  through  Jesus. 

Oidy  one  incident  of  the  journey  of  Jesus  Himself  is  recorded,  but  it  is 
wondrously  significant.  His  repulse  at  the  border  village  had  changed 
His  route ;  for  now,  instead  of  going  straight  south.  He  turned  eastwards, 
and  followed  the  road  that  runs  between  Samaria  and  Galilee,  down  the 
ravines,  to  the  fertile  meadows  of  Bethshean  or  Scythopolis,  where  a  ford 
or  brido-e  led  over  the  Jordan.  The  route  stretched  tlience  southwards  to 
Jericho. 

The  calm  rebuke  of  John  and  James  for  their  anger  and  revengeful 
spirit,  and  the  return  of  good  for  evil  in  the  sending  forth  the  Seventy  to 
preach  the  Kingdom  throughout  the  Samaritan  region,  had  shown  that 
the  rudeness  He  had  received  liad  not  ruffled  His  spirit.  He  was  now  to 
add  another  proof  of  His  serene  and  loving  nature.  As  they  approached 
a  border  village,  a  dismal  spectacle  was  presented.  Ten  men,  hideous  with 
leprosy,  ranged  themselves  at  a  distance  from  the  road,  as  similar  sufferers 
still  do  before  their  huts  at  the  Zion  Gate  at  Jerusalem.  It  was  a  law  in 
Samaria  that  no  leper  could  enter  a  town,  and  hence  the  unfortunate  crea- 
tures accosted  Jesus  while  He  was  still  outside  the  village.  Misery  had 
broken  down  all  prejudice  of  race  or  faith,  and  had  brought  together  even 
Jew^  and  Samaritan,  as  it  still  does  in  the  leper  haunts  of  Jerusalem  and 
Nablous.  The  ten  had  heard  of  Jesus,  and  the  wonderful  cures  He  had 
performed  on  such  as  they,  and  no  sooner  saw  Him  than  they  broke  out 
with  the  common  cry—"  Tame  !  Tame  !  Unclean,  unclean  !  Jesus,  Master, 
have  mercy  on  us."  It  was  a  sight  that  might  have  touched  any  heart» 
for  it  must  have  been  like  that  which  still  repeats  itself  to  passers-by  at 
the  leper  quarters  elsewhere— a  crowd  of  beggars  without  eyebrows,  or 


532  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

hair  on  tlieir  faces  or  heads  ;  the  nails  of  their  hands  and  feet,  and  even  a 
hand  or  a  foot  itself,  gone  from  some ;  the  nose,  the  eyes,  the  tongue,  the 
palate,  more  or  less  wanting  in  others.  As  they  stood  afar  off,  their  lips 
covered  with  their  abbas,  like  mourners  for  the  dead— for  they  were  smit- 
ten with  a  living  death,  which  cut  them  ofE  from  intercourse  with  their 
fellows — the  pity  of  Jesus  was  excited,  and  without  even  waiting  to  come 
near,  sent  hope  to  them  in  the  words,  "  Go,  show  yourselves  to  the  priests." 
They  know  what  the  command  meant,  for  no  one  who  was  not  cleansed 
could  approach  a  priest,  and  as  they  moved  off,  the  disease  left  them.  The 
Samaritan  would  have  to  show  himself  to  a  Samaritan  priest ;  the  nine 
Jews  needed  to  go  up  to  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  for  an  official  certificate 
of  health ;  but  it  was  the  least  either  the  one  or  the  others  could  do,  when 
they  felt  their  cure,  to  return,  if  only  for  a  moment,  to  thank  their  bene- 
factor for  a  deliverance  from  worse  than  death.  The  nine  Jews,  however, 
were  too  concentrated  on  themselves  to  think  of  this.  Only  one,  the  Sama- 
ritan, had  natural  gratitude  enough  to  come  back  and  throw  himself  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus  in  humble  acknowledgment  of  the  goodness  shown  him. 
"  Were  there  not  ten  cleansed  ?  "  asked  Christ ;  "  where  are  the  nine  ? 
The  only  one  who  has  returned  to  give  glory  to  God  is  this  Samaritan, 
whom  Jews  call  a  heathen  and  an  alien  from  Israel.  Arise,  go  thy  way,  thy 
faith  hath  made  thee  whole."  The  Twelve  had  received  another  lesson  of 
universal  charity. 

The  Feast  of  Tabernacles  was  one  of  the  three  great  feasts  which  every 
Jew  was  required  to  attend.  It  was  held  from  the  fifteenth  of  Tisri  to  the 
twenty-second,  the  first  and  last  days  being  Sabbaths — the  latter  "the 
great  day  of  the  feast."  It  commemorated,  in  part,  the  tent-life  of  Israel 
in  the  wilderness,  but  was  also,  still  more,  a  feast  of  thanks  for  the 
harvest,  which  was  now  ended  even  in  the  orchards  and  vineyards.  Every 
one  lived  in  booths  of  living  twigs— branches  of  olive,  myrtle,  fir,  and  the 
like — raised  in  the  open  covirts  of  houses,  on  roofs,  and  in  the  streets  and 
open  places  of  the  city.  All  carried  in  the  left  hand  a  citron,  and  in  the 
right  the  lulab—  a  branch  of  palm  woven  round  with  willow  and  myrtle. 
On  each  of  the  seven  feast  days  the  priests  went  out  with  music  and  the 
choir  of  Levites,  and  the  shouts  of  vast  multitudes,  to  draw  water  in  a 
golden  vessel,  from  the  spring  of  Siloah  ;  to  be  poured  out  at  the  time  of 
the  morning  offering,  as  a  libation,  on  the  west  side  of  the  great  altar, 
amidst  great  joy,  singing  and  dancing,  such  as  was  not  all  the  year  besides. 
On  the  evening  of  the  first  day  a  grand  illumination,  from  huge  candela- 
bra, which  shed  light  far  and  near  over  the  city,  began  in  the  Court  of 
the  Women,  and  torch  daiices  of  men  were  kept  up,  in  the  court,  with 
music  and  songs,  till  the  Temple  gates  closed. 

The  Jewish  authorities  kept  looking  for  Jesus,  for  they  had  counted  on 
His  attending  the  great  national  holiday,  and  thus  coming  within  their 
reach ;  but,  to  their  disappointment,  He  appeared  not  to  be  in  Jerusalem. 
So,  their  officers  reported.  His  absence  had,  indeed,  been  noted  by  the 
multitude,  and  everywhere  He  was  the  subject  of  conversation  and  dis- 
cussion. The  Kabbis  and  higher  Temple  dignitaries  had  shown  themselves 
so  hostile   to   Him   that  no  one  dared  to  mention  His  name,  except  in 


AT   THE    FEAST    OF    TABERNACLES.  533 

whispers,  for  fear  of  excommunication ;  but  Ho  was  more  or  less  the  one 
engrossing  topic  of  the  bazaars  and  the  booths  of  the  feast.  Opinions 
were  divided.  Some,  Avho  judged  for  themselves,  maintained  that  He  was 
a  good  man,  and  that  it  would  be  well  for  all  to  follow  what  He  taught ; 
others,  and  they  no  doubt  the  great  majority,  who  took  their  opinions 
from  their  religious  leaders,  hotly  and  loudly  denounced  Him  as  unsafe 
and  dangerous,  a  breaker  of  the  Sabbath,  for  had  He  not,  on  His  last  visit, 
healed  a  blind  man  on  the  holy  day  ? 

Meanwhile,  when  the  feast  was  at  its  height,  Jesus  suddenly  made  His 
appearance  in  the  Temple  porch,  where  the  Ilabbis  taught,  and,  calmly 
taking  His  scat,  began  to  teach  the  crovrd  that  soon  gathered  round  Him. 
It  is  not  told  us  when  He  had  arrived,  or  whether  He  lived  for  the  week, 
like  the  crowds,  in  a  succah  or  booth  of  His  own  or  of  a  friend ;  or 
whether  He  carried  the  lulab  and  citron,  as  others  did,  round  the  great 
altar,  or  attended  only  to  the  graver  matters  of  His  New  Kingdom.  We 
only  know  that  He  showed  Himself  openly  in  the  city  and  in  the  Temple 
courts,  under  the  very  eyes  of  His  enemies.  Loyalty  to  His  woi-k  had 
demanded  His  delay  in  coming,  for  His  life  was  still  needed  to  proclaim 
the  New  Kingdom  in  Jerusalem  as  well  as  in  Galilee,  if  it  were  permitted 
Him.  He  had  lived  mostly  in  the  latter,  but  Jerusalem  was  the  religious 
centre  of  the  nation,  and  all  that  happened,  or  was  sjDoken  publicly  during 
one  of  the  great  feasts,  would  be  wafted,  like  seeds,  to  eveiy  land.  As  a 
Jew,  moreover.  He  had  a  tender  love  for  the  City  of  David,  the  chosen 
seat  of  Jehovah,  His  Heavenly  Father — a  spot  dear  then,  as  now,  beyond 
expression,  to  every  Israelite.  Before  it  was  for  ever  too  late.  He  would 
fain  bring  its  children  to  listen  to  the  things  of  their  peace,  which  He 
alone  could  tell  them. 

The  Jewish  authorities  were  astounded,  and  hardly  knew  what  course  to 
take.  Some  of  them  who  approached,  to  listen  to  the  fearless  intruder, 
were  still  more  amazed  at  what  they  heard.  They  could  now  understand 
how  it  had  been  said  of  Him,  that  He  taught  as  one  who  had  a  commission 
direct  from  God;  and  not  like  the  Eabbis,  who  never  spoke  without 
quoting  an  authority  ;  and  how  He  had  made  so  great  a  popular  im^jression. 
Art  and  study  of  effect  had  no  place  in  His  discourses,  for  the  copiousness 
and  finish  of  a  mere  rhetorician  were  wanting.  His  resistless  power  lay 
as  much  in  Himself  as  in  His  words  ;  His  calm  dignity,  and  His  look  of 
mingled  purity  and  tenderness,  confirming  all  He  said,  as  by  a  holy 
sanction.  He  did  not  merely  treat  of  general  religious  and  moral  truths, 
but  spoke  of  quickening  facts  and  realities.  The  advent  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God,  its  nature  and  its  glorious  future,  but  above  all,  His  own  position 
in  it,  as  its  Head  and  King,  as  He  in  whom  the  Father  revealed  Himself, 
and  in  whom  men  were  to  find  salvation,  were  the  substance  of  His 
addresses.  They  were,  in  fact,  essentially  a  testimony  resi)ccting  Himself, 
and  a  self-revelation.  There  were  no  sudden  and  violent  bursts,  no  brilliant 
flashes,  but  an  atmosphere  of  more  than  earthly  peace  rested  over  both 
speaker  and  words,  from  first  to  last.  The  most  amazing  claims  were 
uttered,  not  only  without  a  trace  of  self-cousciousncss,  but  with  the  low- 
liest humility.     It  seemed  as  if  all  He  said  was  only  what  became  Him. 


534  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

But  with  His  humility,  aud  in  addition  to  His  transcendent  dif^nity,  the 
fuhicss  of  His  knowledge  was  no  less  remarkable.  He  was  intimately 
familiar  with  the  sacred  books,  and  even  with  the  honoured  extra-canonical 
writings.  He  met  and  confuted  opinions  of  the  Eabbis  by  the  subtlest 
and  most  original  references  to  Scripture ;  Ho  pierced  beneath  its  letter  to 
the  sj^irit ;  He  distinguished  with  the  keenest  acuteness  between  the  Law, 
as  given  by  God,  in  its  scope  aud  essence,  and  the  Pharisaic  traditions ; 
and  He  clothed  in  the  simplest  language,  the  profoundest  spiritual  truths 
of  both  the  Law  and  the  Prophets.     Such  a  phenomenon  was  inexplicable. 

The  authorities,  in  amazement,  could  only  ask  themselves  how  He  could 
have  such  learning,  when  He  had,  never  studied  in  the  schools.  Where 
could  He  have  got  this  power  of  handling  the  Scriptures  like  a  great 
Rabbi  ?  He  was  a  Galila^an,  and  had  never  attended  any  teacher.  Like 
the  old  pi'opliets.  He  must  have  been  "  taught  of  God,"  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  people  did  not  hesitate  to  recognise  Him  as  one,  though  the 
official  classes  were  fain  to  decry  Him,  and  knew  the  effect  of  a  harsh  and 
contemptuous  name.  "  How  could  a  common  man  like  this,"  said  they, 
"  who  has  never  been  educated  as  a  llabbi,  possibly  understand  the  Scrip- 
tures P"  Against  their  consciences,  they  tried  to  depreciate  both  Him  and 
Plis  teaching. 

Had  they  shown  only  curious  or  friendly  wonder,  Jesus  would,  perhaps, 
have  remained  silent.  But  it  was  different  when  they  were  trying  to 
excite  doubt  and  suspicion  against  Himself  and  His  words,  as  it  was  clear 
they  were  doing,  from  what  He  saw  and  heard.  A  deputation  from  the 
chief  priests  having  at  last,  by  a  direct  interrogation,  given  Him  an 
opportunity  of  speech.  He  seized  it  at  once.  "  Beyond  doubt,"  said  He, 
to  paraphrase  His  words  slightly,  "  I  have  not  learned  in  your  schools 
what  I  teach.  But  my  doctrine  is  not  a  mere  invention  of  my  own;  it  is 
not  mine  at  all,  but  His  who  has  sent  me.  I  only  repeat  what  He  instructs 
me  to  make  known  in  His  name.  You  speak  as  if  religious  truth  were 
a  mere  matter  of  tedious  study.  But  it  is  to  be  learned  by  obedience, 
rather  than  from  books,  as  your  own  Wisdom  of  Sirach  tells  you,  'He  that 
keepeth  the  law  of  the  Lord  getteth  the  understanding  thereof.'  It  needs 
a  heart  willing  to  be  taught  of  God,  to  comprehend  it ;  a  heart  at  one 
with  Him,  and  eager  to  do  His  will,  however  contrary  to  one's  own.  He 
whose  soul  has  no  love  of  truth,  no  oneness  with  God,  cannot  recognise 
His  ti'uth  even  when  he  hears  it.  If  you  had  true  love  to  Him  and  desired 
to  know  His  revealed  w411,  and  to  carry  it  out  in  your  lives,  you  would 
know  from  whom  I  have  received  the  doctrine  I  teach,  by  its  power  to 
purify  and  calm  the  heart,  and  by  the  hopes  it  gives  for  the  world  to  come. 
That  I  do  not  advance  a  doctrine  of  my  own  invention  is,  moreover,  clear 
from  this,  that  if  I  did  so  I  should  seek  my  own  honour  and  advantage. 
But  if  I  seek  no  honour  for  myself,  but  only  for  Him  by  whom  I  have 
been  sent,  it  shows  that  I  am  worthy  of  trust.  To  strive  only  for  the 
glory  of  God  is  in  itself  a  proof  of  being  His  true  mouthpiece  and  mes- 
senger, and  I  leave  you  to  say  whether  this  does  not  apply  to  me.  Have  I 
ever  sought  honour  from  men,  and  not  rather  the  honour  of  my  Father 
alone  ?    Have  I  not  alwaj^s  professed  to  have  received  all  from  my  Father  p 


AT  THE  FEAST  OF  TABERNACLES.  535 

I  have  liad  no  personal  end,  and  it  is,  therefore,  incredible  that  T  sihould 
be  a  deceiver,  seeking  to  lead  men  astra}-." 

The  cavil  of  the  Eabbis  thns  answered,  Jesus  forthwith  took  the  offen- 
sive. "You  charge  me,"  said  He,  "with  not  hnowinrj  the  Law;  jou  do 
not  l-ccp  it.  You  boast  of  your  zeal  for  it,  and  affect  indignation  for  my 
having,  as  you  assert,  broken  it  by  healing  a  blind  man  on  the  Sabbath  ; 
an  indignation  so  real  that  you  would  put  me  to  death  if  you  could.  But 
this,  itself,  is  a  violation  of  the  Law,  for  the  Law  commands  love  to  our 
neighbour  above  even  the  Sabbath,  and  that  slionld  l)e  my  perfect  defence." 
He  knew  that  the  authorities  had  never  forgiven  Him  His  answer,  at  His 
former  visit,  to  their  charge  of  having  broken  the  Sabbath  by  the  miracle 
at  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  and  that  they  were  plotting  His  death,  even  now, 
on  account  of  it. 

Meanwhile,  the  crowd,  perhaps  knowing  less  than  He  of  the  secret 
designs  of  the  hierarchy,  or  affecting  to  deny  them,  believed,  or  feigned  to 
believe.  Him  in  no  danger,  and  broke  out  in  angry  repudiation  of  such  a 
charge.  They  had  heard  the  Eabbis  often  ascribe  His  works  to  Beelzebub, 
and  fell  back  on  their  blasphemous  slander  as  an  explanation  of  His 
language.  He  must  have  a  devil.  The  Rabbis  were  right.  He  was  crazed. 
The  evil  spirit  that  spoke  through  Him  was  trying  to  stir  them  up  against 
their  spiritual  guides. 

Without  noticing  the  interruption,  Jesus  continued  addressing  the  crowd 
at  large  :  "  Your  leaders  are  plotting  to  kill  me  for  doing  an  act  of  mercy 
on  the  Sabbath.  But  all  of  you  are  in  a  measure  guilty,  by  your  sympathy 
with  them  :  for  you  are  offended  with  me  at  the  miracle,  on  the  same  un- 
righteous ground.  But  that  you  may  see  the  injustice  of  your  charge,  let 
me  remind  you  of  what  often  takes  place  in  regard  to  circumcision.  That 
rite  was  commanded  by  Moses,  though  it  dates  from  Abraham,  and  you 
are  so  strict  in  performing  it  at  the  prescri))ed  time,  the  eighth  day,  that 
you  circumcise  a  child  even  on  the  Sabbath,  if  necessary,  that  the  law  of 
Moses  in  this  particular  be  not  broken.  Do  j'ou  think  the  Sabljath  was 
first  instituted  at  Sinai,  and  hence  give  the  law  of  circumcision  the  pre- 
ference as  older  ?  Or,  rather,  have  you  not,  of  yourselves,  decid^ed  that  in 
some  cases  the  law  of  the  Sabbath  must  give  way  to  other  parts  of  the 
Law?  You  accept  the  saying  of  the  Rabbis,  that  '  circumcision  drives 
away  the  Sabbath.'  But,  if  you  perform  circumcision,  with  all  the  work 
it  involves,  on  tlie  Sabbath,  without  breaking  the  day,  how  can  you  be 
angry  at  me,  as  if  I  had  broken  it  by  a  work  of  mercy  so  macli  more 
beneficial  as  tlie  making  a  blind  man  whole  ?  Never  judge  by  appearance, 
but  look  beneath  the  surface  and  judge  righteously." 

But  now  some  joined  the  crowd  who  knew  of  the  plots  of  the  authorities 
against  His  life,  and  could  not  understand  how  He  should  be  allowed  to 
teach  thus  openly  without  interference.  His  words  and  demeanour  had 
softened  their  prejudice,  and  made  it  seem  po3sil>le  that  tlie  authorities 
had  become  convinced,  that  He  was,  in  reality,  the  Messiah,  and  sanctioned 
this  course.  But  the  mere  suggestion,  in  the  shape  of  a  question,  was 
enough  to  raise  a  hot  dispute  among  theologians  so  keen.  "  Do  not  the 
Rabbis  tell  us,"  said  some,  "'  that  the  Messiah  will  Ije  born  at  Bethlehem, 


530  THE   LIFE    OF    CIIRIST, 

but  tliat  He  will  be  suatched  away  by  sjjirits  and  tempests  soon  aftei'  His 
birtli,  and  that  when  Ho  retui-ns  tlic  second  time  no  one  Avill  know  from 
v/lience  He  lias  come  ?  But  we  knoAV  that  this  man  comes  from  Nazarctli. 
Our  chief  men,  if  they  choose,  may  accept  Him  as  the  Messiah ;  we  will 
not." 

Jesus  was  still  sitting  in  the  Temple  porch,  teaching,  but,  on  hearing 
what  was  thus  openly  said  in  disparagement  of  His  Messiahship,  He  broke 
off  His  discourse,  and  called  out  to  the  noisy  disputants  in  a  louder  voice 
than  He  had  liitherto  used, — "  You  do  certainly,  in  your  own  sense,  know 
who  I  am,  and  whence  I  come,  but  in  a  higher  sense  you  know  neither.  I 
come  forward  as  the  Messiah,  not  of  myself ;  I  am  sent  by  One  whom  you 
cannot  truly  know,  so  long  as  you  cling  to  your  worldly  ideas  of  the 
Messiah — by  One  who,  alone,  has  the  right  and  power  to  send  forth  the 
Messiah,  and  has  exercised  them  in  sending  me.  I  know  Him,  though 
you  do  not,  for  I  have  come  forth  from  Him,  and  no  other  than  He  h?jS 
sent  me." 

His  hearers  at  once  saw  what  was  implied  in  this.  It  was  no  less  than  a 
claim  to  have  come  forth  from  God,  and  was  equivalent  to  asserting 
Divine  dignity,  for  He  said  nothing  of  being  only  an  angel,  or  embodied 
heavenly  spirit,  or  prophet  raised  from  the  dead.  He  had  once  before, 
after  the  very  miracle  for  which  He  had  been  so  assailed,  justified  Him- 
self by  saying,  "  My  Fatlier  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work,"  and  the  words 
had  sounded  so  blasphemous,  that  the  authorities  had  sought  to  kill  Him, 
because  He  had  not  only  broken  the  Sabbath,  but  had  said  that  God  was 
His  Father,  making  Himself  equal  with  God.  The  hostile  part  of  the 
crowd  rightly  saw  a  similar  claim  repeated  now,  and  with  the  wild  fana- 
ticism of  their  race  in  that  age,  proposed  to  lay  hold  of  Him,  and  hurry 
Him  outside  the  city  on  the  instant,  to  stone  Him,  as  the  law  against 
blasphemy  enjoined.  But  His  hour  had  not  yet  come,  and  whether  from 
fear  of  the  Galiloeans  at  the  feast,  or  from  other  reasons,  their  rage  died 
away  in  words. 

The  fame  of  His  miracles  in  the  north  had  preceded  Him  to  Jerusalem, 
and  being  now  further  spread  by  the  reports  of  the  Galila^an  pilgrims, 
deepened  the  effect  of  His  cure  of  the  blind  man  at  His  last  visit— the 
very  bitterness  of  His  enemies  having  kept  it  from  being  forgotten.  Num- 
bers had  thus  been  impressed  in  His  favour,  even  before  His  appearance 
at  the  feast,  and  not  a  few  of  these  were  so  far  won  over  Ijy  the  still 
higher  evidence  of  His  wondrous  words,  and  whole  air  and  tone,  that 
many  felt  consti'ained  to  admit  His  claim  to  be  the  Messiah.  Miracles 
had  always  been  held  a  characteristic  of  the  Messiah's  advent,  and  even 
the  bitterest  enemies  of  Jesus  did  not  deny  His  supernatural  power.  It 
was  evident  that  He  was  rapidly  gaining  ground,  and  the  hierarchy  knew 
that  if  He  rose  they  must  fall.  If  they  could  arrest  Him,  while  His  ad- 
herents had  not  as  yet  ventured  on  an  open  movement  in  His  support,  all 
might  be  well.  The  Pharisees,  therefore,  and  the  Sadduccan  chief  priests 
— mortal  enemies  at  all  other  times — hastily  issued  a  warrant  to  apprehend 
Him,  and  sent  some  of  the  Temple  police  to  cai-ry  it  out. 

The  sight  of  the  well-known  dress  of  these  officials,  on  the  outskirts  of 


AT   THE   FEAST   OF   TABERNACLES.  537 

His  audience,  told  the  Avliole  story  to  the  quic'k  inloUigencc  of  Jesus,  aud 
with  that  readiness  which  alwaj's  marked  llini,  He  forthwith  began  a 
calm  and  clear  anticii^ation  of  His  death  as  near  at  hand. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you,"  said  He,  "only  a  short  time  longer,  for  I  shall 
soon  return  to  my  Father  in  HcaTen,  who  sent  me.  Then  the  days  will 
come  Avhen  sore  distress  will  fall  upon  this  city  and  land  for  rejectiiif  me, 
and  you  will  seek  help  and  deliverance  from  the  Messiah,  that  is,  from  me, 
but  ye  will  not  find  me  then.  Persecuted  and  put  to  death  now,  ye  will 
then  long  for  me  in  vain,  when  for  ever  gone  from  you,  for  where  I  shall 
then  be  you  cannot  go,  to  fetch  me  from  thence  as  your  Saviour." 

"  What  does  He  mean?"  asked  those  around;  "  will  He  go  to  our  Greek- 
speaking  brethren— the  Hellenists  in  Egy2)t,  or  Asia  Minor,  or  some  other 
of  the  lands  of  the  Gentiles  ?  " 

The  day  passed  without  any  attempt  to  lay  hold  of  Him,  nor  was  He 
disturbed  again  during  the  week.  The  last  day  of  the  Feast,  known  as 
"ThcHosanna  Rabba,"  and  the  "Great  Day,"  found  Him,  as  each  day 
before  doubtless  had  done,  in  the  Temple  arcades.  He  had  gone  thither 
early,  to  meet  the  crowds  assembled  for  morning  prayer.  It  was  a  day  of 
special  rejoicing.  A  great  procession  of  pilgrims  marched  seven  times 
round  the  city,  with  their  lulabs,  music  and  loud-voiced  choirs  preceding, 
and  the  air  was  rent  with  shouts  of  Hosanna,  in  commemoration  of  the 
taking  of  Jericho,  the  first  city  in  the  Holy  Land  that  fell  into  the  hands 
of  their  fathers.  Other  multitudes  streamed  to  the  brook  of  Siloah,  after 
the  priests  and  Levites,  bearing  the  golden  vessels,  with  which  to  draw 
some  of  the  water.  As  many  as  could  get  near  the  stream  drank  of  it 
amidst  loud  chanting  of  the  words  of  Isaiah — "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth, 
come  ye  to  the  waters,"  "  With  joy  shall  we  draw  water  from  the  wells  of 
salvation" — which  rose  in  jubilant  harmony  from  the  lijjs  of  all.  The 
water  drawn  by  the  priests,  was,  meanwhile,  borne  up  to  the  Temple, 
amidst  boundless  excitement.  Such  a  crowd  was,  apparently,  passing  at 
this  moment. 

Eising,  as  the  crowds  went  by.  His  spirit  was  moved  at  such  honest 
enthusiasm,  yet  saddened  at  the  moral  decay  which  mistook  a  mere  cere- 
mony for  religion.  It  was  burning  autumn  weather,  when  the  sun  had  for 
months  shone  in  a  cloudless  skj',  and  the  early  rains  were  longed  for  as 
the  monsoons  in  India  after  the  summer  heat.  Water  at  all  times  is  a 
magic  word  in  a  sultry  climate  like  Palestine,  but  at  this  moment  it  had  a 
double  power.  Standing,  therefore,  to  give  His  words  more  solemnity. 
His  voice  now  sounded  far  and  near  over  the  throng,  with  soft  clearness, 
which  arrested  all : 

"  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink,  for  I  will  give  him  the 
living  waters  of  God's  heavenly  grace,  of  which,  as  your  Eabbis  toll  you,  the 
v»-ater  you  have  now  drawn  from  Siloah  is  only  a  type.  He  who  believes  in 
me  drinks  into  his  soul  from  my  fulness,  as  from  a  fountain,  the  riches  of 
Divine  grace  and  truth.  ISTor  do  they  bring  life  to  him  alone  who  thus 
drinks.  They  become  in  his  OAvn  heart,  as  the  whole  burden  of  Scripture 
tells,  a  living  spring,  which  shall  flow  forth  from  his  lips  and  life  in  holy 
words  and  deeds,  quickening  the  thirsty  around  him."     He  meant,  adds 


538  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

St.  John,  that  this  qiiickeiiing  missionary  zeal  and  power  would  first  show 
itself  after  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  when  He  Himself  liad  entered 
on  His  glory.  Streams  of  holy  influence,  like  rivers  of  living  water,  would 
go  forth  from  His  Apostles  through  the  Spirit's  overflowing  fulness  in 
their  souls. 

The  whole  discourse  was  now  ended.  The  imjjressions  it  had  left  were 
various.  Many  who  had  listened  to  it,  whispered  to  their  neighbours  that 
they  were  sure  "  This  was  the  Prophet  to  come  before  the  Messiah." 
Others  maintained  He  was  the  Messiah  Himself  ;  but  this  opinion  led  to 
hot  dispute.  "  Does  the  Messiah,  then,  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?  "  asked 
the  incredulous  Eabbinists.  "Does  not  the  Scripture  say  that  the  Christ 
comes  of  the  seed  of  David,  and  from  Bethlehem,  the  village  where  David 
was  ?  "  But  the  division  in  the  crowd  was  the  safety  of  Jesus  ;  for  those 
who  were  fiercest  to  lay  hands  on  Him  as  a  blasphemer  and  Sabbath- 
breaker,  were  afraid  to  do  so,  so  strong  did  the  party  seem  which  sup- 
ported Him. 

The  Temple  police  sent  to  arrest  Him  liad  remained  near,  to  the  close, 
to  watch  their  opportunity.  But  the  power  and  majesty  of  His  discourse, 
which  had  spell-bound  so  many  others,  had  overawed  and  impressed  even 
them,  so  that  they  dared  not  touch  Him,  and  went  back  to  their  masters 
empty-handed.  To  the  angry  demand  for  an  explanation,  they  could  only 
answer,  "  Never  man  spake  as  this  man  sjicaks."  The  Pharisees  in  the 
Council,  the  special  guardians  of  the  public  orthodoxy,  professed  them- 
selves shocked  at  such  dislo^'alty  on  the  part  of  men  entrusted  with  the 
commission  of  the  high  ecclesiastical  court.  "  How  can  you  be  so  led 
away  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  only  some  of  the  ignorant  rabble  believe  iu 
Him  ?  Have  any  men  of  position,  any  members  of  the  Council,  or  any 
Rabbis,  done  so?  They  are  qualified  to  judge  on  such  matters;  but  as 
for  the  common  people,  who  have  accepted  such  a  transgressor  as  the 
Messiah,  it  shows  that  they  do  not  know  the  Law,  and  are  therefore  ac- 
cursed of  God." 

One  faint  voice  only  was  heard  in  the  Council  in  hesitating  defence  of 
Jesus.  It  was  that  of  Nicodemus,  His  visitor  by  night  on  His  first  ap- 
pearance. "  I  know,  sirs,  you  are  zealous  for  the  Law,  and  rightly  con- 
demn those  who  are  ignorant  of  it.  But  does  the  Law  sanction  our  thus 
condemning  a  man  before  it  has  heard  Him,  and  found  exactly  what  He 
has  done  ?  He  had  not  moral  courage  to  take  a  side,  but  could  not  with- 
hold a  timid  word.  Like  all  weak  men,  he  found  little  favour  for  his 
faint-hearted  caution.  "Are  you,  also,  like  Jesus,  out  of  Galilee,"  they 
asked,  "  that  you  believe  in  Him  ?  only  ignorant  Galilosans  do  so.  Search 
the  Scri])tures,  and  you  will  see  that  no  Galitean  was  ever  inspired  as  a 
prophet  by  God ;  the  race  is  despised  of  the  Highest,  and  is  it  likely  it 
should  give  Jerusalem  the  Messiah  P  " 

.  In  their  blind  rage  they  forgot  that,  at  least,  Jonah  and  Hosea  and 
Nahum  were  Galila?ans,  and  they  ignored  the  fact  that  if  the  followers  of 
Jesus  were  mostly  from  the  illiterate  North,  He  had  also  not  a  few  even 
from  the  sons  of  bigoted  Jerusalem. 


AFTER   THE    FEAST.  539 

CHAPTER   L. 

AFTER.  THE    FEAST. 

A  LL  who  attcudecl  the  Feast  o£  Tahei-naclcs  were  required  to  sleep  in 
-^^  the  city  the  first  night  at  least,  biit  were  free  afterwards  to  go  any 
distance  outside,  within  the  limit  of  a  Sabbath  day's  journey.  Jesus, 
accustomed  to  the  pure  air  of  the  hills  and  open  country,  and  with  little 
sympathy  for  tlie  noise  and  merriment,  or  for  tlie  crowds  and  confusion,  of 
the  great  holiday,  was  glad  to  avail  Himself  of  this  freedom,  and  went  out, 
each  night,  after  leaving  the  Temple,  to  seek  sleep  in  the  house  of  some 
friend  on  the  Mount  of  Olives ;  peidiaps  to  that  of  the  family  of  Bethany, 
of  which  wc  hear  so  much  soon  after  this.  The  early  morning,  however, 
saw  Ilim  always  at  Ilis  post  in  the  Temple  courts ;  now  in  the  royal  porch, 
now  in  the  Court  of  the  Women,  through  which  the  men  passed  to  their 
own. 

The  vast  concourse  of  people  from  all  countries,  and  the  general  excite- 
ment and  relaxation  of  the  season,  had  gradually  led  to  abuses.  Pilgrim- 
ages, in  all  ages,  have  had  an  indifferent  name  for  their  influence  on 
morals,  and  the  yearly  feasts  at  Jerusalem  were  probably  no  exception. 

A  large  number  of  people  had  already  gathered  round  Jesus,  when  a 
commotion  was  seen  in  the  Court  of  the  Women,  where  He  had  sat  down 
to  teach.  A  woman  of  the  humbler  class  had  been  guilty  of  immorality, 
and  the  scribes,  on  the  moment,  saw  in  her  sin  a  possible  snare  for  the 
hated  Galila\an.  It  was  not  their  business,  but  that  of  her  husband,  to 
accuse  her ;  nor  could  she  Ije  legally  punished,  except  by  divorce,  if  he, 
himself,  were  not  a  man  of  pure  life.  It  was  the  custom,  however,  in 
cases  of  difficulty,  to  consult  a  famous  Rabiji,  and  advantage  was  taken  of 
this,  to  entrap  Jesus,  if  possible,  by  asking  Him  to  adjudicate  on  the  case. 
If  he  condemned  her,  and  insisted  that  she  should  be  stoned  to  death,  it 
would  injure  Him  in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  for  the  Law,  in  this  particular, 
had  long  been  obsolete,  from  the  very  commonness  of  the  offence.  If,  on 
the  other  baud,  he  simply  dismissed  her,  they  could  charge  him  with  slight- 
ing the  Law,  for  it  was  still  formally  binding.  To  condemn  her  to  death 
would,  moreover,  bring  Him  under  the  Roman  law,  as  an  invasion  of  the 
right  of  the  governor. 

Leading  forAvard  their  trembling  prisoner,  unveiled,  and  exposed  before 
the  crowd  of  men — the  bitterest  degradation  to  an  Eastern  woman — they 
set  her  before  Jesus,  and  asked  with  feigned  humility  : 

"  Teacher,  this  woman  has  been  guilty  of  sin.  Now  Moses,  in  the  Law, 
charged  us  that  such  should  be  stoned.     What  is  your  opinion  ?  " 

Knowing  their  smooth  dissimulation.  He  instinctively  felt  that  this 
mock  respect  was  a  mere  cloak  for  sinister  designs.  Yet  the  incident 
threw  Him  into  a  moment's  confusion.  His  soul  shrank  from  the  spectacle 
thus  brought  before  Him,  and  in  His  stainless  purity  He  could  not  bear 
to  look  on  the  fallen  one.  Stooping  down,  therefore,  at  once  to  hide  the 
blush  He  could  not  prevent,  and  to  shoAV  that  He  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  such  a  matter,  He  began  to  write  on  the  dust  before  Him — most 


540  THE   LIFE    OF   CHIIIST. 

likely  fclie  very  words  lie  was  presently  to  utter.  Had  tliey  chosen  to  read 
them,  tliey  niiglit  have  spared  themselves  the  open  exposure  that  followed- 
But  they  were  too  occupied  with  their  plot  to  read  the  warniii<^,  and  again 
and  again  repeated  the  question,  to  force  Him  to  answer.  At  last,  raising 
His  face  for  a  moment  and  looking  straight  at  them,  He  said  : 

"Let  him,  among  you,  who  is  free  from  sin  of  a  like  kind,  cast  the  first 
stone  at  her,  as  is  required  of  the  chief  witness,  by  Moses." 

It  was  an  age  of  deep  immorality,  and  the  words  of  Jesus  went  to  their 
consciences.  He  had  again  stooped  and  begun  to  write,  as  soon  as  He 
had  spoken,  perhaps  to  remind  them  hoAV  sin,  when  followed  by  penitence, 
is  effaced  for  ever,  like  characters  written  in  dust.  MeauAvhile,  their  own 
bosoms  became  their  judges.  One  after  another,  beginning  at  the  oldest 
among  them,  moved  off,  to  the  very  last,  and  Jesus  was  left  alone,  with 
the  woman,  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

Eising  once  more,  .and  finding  only  the  woman  left.  He  asked  her : 

"  Woman,  where  are  thine  accusers  ?  Did  no  one  condemn  thee,  by  cast- 
ing a  stone  at  thee  ?  " 

"  No  one.  Lord." 

"  Neither,"  said  He,  "  shall  I.  I  come  not  to  condemn,  but  to  save.  I 
am  no  criminal  judge,  either  to  sentence  or  acquit.  Go,  repent  of  thy 
guilt,  and  sin  no  more." 

His  enemies  had  often  murmured  at  the  pity  and  favour  He  had  shown 
to  the  fallen  and  outcast.  They  knew  how  He  had  allowed  one  sinful 
woman  to  wash  His  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wipe  them  with  her  loose  hair; 
how  He  had  eaten  with  publicans  and  sinners,  and  how  He  even  had  a  pub- 
lican among  His  disciples.  They  had  hoped  to  use  all  this  against  Him, 
but,  once  more,  their  schemes  had  only  turned  to  their  own  shame.  He 
had  given  no  opinion  for  the  obsolete  Law,  or  against  it ;  their  own  con- 
sciences had  set  the  offender  free. 

This  incident  past,  He  began  His  discourse  again  to  those  round  Him. 
He  still  sat  in  the  Court  of  the  Women,  or,  as  it  was  sometimes  called, 
"  the  treasui-y,"  from  the  thirteen  brazen  chests  for  offerings,  with  their 
trumpet-like  mouths  opening  through  the  wall  of  its  buildings.  The  court 
was  the  great  thoroughfare  to  that  of  the  Israelites,  which  was  reached 
from  it  by  the  fifteen  steps  leading  to  the  great  gate. 

In  the  addi-ess  of  the  day  before.  He  had  spoken  of  Himself  as  alone 
having  the  water  of  life  for  the  thirst  of  the  soul.  "  To  give  water  to 
drink,"  was  a  common  phrase  for  teaching  and  explaining  the  Law,  and 
hence  its  meaning,  when  used  by  our  Lord,  was  familiar  to  all  His  hearers. 
Water,  in  such  a  climate,  was  the  first  necessary  of  life,  and  flowing  or 
living  waters  pictui'ed  at  once  every  image  of  joy  and  prosperity.  But 
the  m.ighty  light,  filling  the  heavens,  the  first-born  creation  of  Grod,  lifts  the 
thoughts  from  individual  benefit  to  that  of  the  whole  race,  for  light  is  the 
condition  and  source  of  blessing,  alike  to  nature  and  man.  It  was  the 
characteristic  of  Jesus  to  make  everything  round  Him,  in  creation  or  com- 
mon life.  His  tests  and  illustrations.  The  shouts  of  the  multitude,  as  they 
brought  up  the  golden  vessel  of  water  from  Siloam,  had  introduced  the 
discourse  on  the  living  waters.     Hound  the  court  in  which  He  now  sat, 


AFTER   THE    FEAST.  541 

rose  the  gi-eat  candelabra,  iu  wlioso  huge  cups  were  kindled  the  ilh;miua- 
tions  of  the  feasts  that  banished  night  from  the  city,  and  in  whose  Ijright- 
ness  the  multitudes  found  darkness  changed  to  day,  and  these  He  now 
used  as  a  text. 

Pointing  to  them,  and  from  them  to  the  glorious  sun,  just  risen  over  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  and  shining  with  dazzling  splendour  on  the  white  houses 
of  the  city  and  the  marble  and  gold  of  the  Temple  walls  and  gates,  He 
began  a  new  discourse,  in  language,  which,  from  the  lips  of  a  Jew,  was  a 
direct  claim  to  be  the  Messiah. 

"  I  am  the  Light  of  the  World,"  said  He ;  "  that  is,  of  the  whole  race 
of  man!  "  Such  words  from  One  who  was  humility  itself— One  acknow- 
ledged by  all  to  have  unbounded  supernatural  power  at  His  commaiid,  yet 
so  self-restrained  that  He  never  used  it  for  His  own  advantage,  and  so 
unassuming  and  lowly  that  even  the  weakest  and  poorest  felt  perfectly 
free  to  approach  Him — were  uttered  with  a  calm  dignity  which  vouched 
their  truth.  "  In  me  dwells  Divine  trvith,"  He  continued,  "  and  from  me 
it  shines  forth,  like  the  light,  to  all  mankind.  He  who  becomes  my  true 
disciple,  and  follows  me  sincerely,  will  no  longer  walk  in  the  dai-kness  of 
ignorance  and  sin,  which  is  the  death  of  the  soul,  but  in  the  light  of  ever- 
lasting life,  given  to  the  children  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom." 

Some  adherents  of  the  Eabbinical  party,  who  remained  to  watch  Him, 
listened  with  eager  attention  to  every  word.  Enraged  at  the  failure  of  the 
last  attempt  to  entrap  Him,  the  llauguage  they  had  now  heard,  which  was 
far  beyond  what  any  prophet  had  ever  claimed  for  himself,  deepened  their 
bitterness. 

"You  make  yourself  judge  in  your  own  favour,"  said  they.  "You 
require  us  to  believe  you,  on  your  own  word.  It  is  too  much  to  ask.  A 
man's  witness  on  his  own  behalf  is  worthless." 

"  I  do  not  make  myself  witness  in  my  own  favour,"  replied  Jesus.  "  Your 
rule  does  not  apply  to  me,  for  I  speak  not  for  myself  alone,  but  as  the 
mouthpiece  of  Him  from  whom  I  came,  and  to  whom  I  shall  soon  return. 
If  you  knew  who  He  was,  you  would  be  forced  to  receive  His  testimony  to 
me.  But  you  do  not  know  Him,  and  therefore  you  reject  it,  for  you  know 
neither  whence  I  came  nor  whither  I  shall  return.  I  know,  and  must  know, 
best,  whose  messenger  I  am,  and  what  commission  He  has  given  me.  You 
have  no  right  to  accuse  me  as  a  deceiver,  for  you  are  not  in  a  position  to 
judge  of  me,  since  you  know  nothing  of  my  mission.  You  look  at  me  with 
jaundiced  eyes,  and  judge  only  by  my  lowly  outward  appearance,  and  are 
thus  misled.  I,  by  myself,  judge  neither  in  my  own  favour,  nor  against 
any  one,  for  I  have  come  not  to  condemn,  but  to  save.  If,  indeed,  in  any 
case  I  seem  to  judge,  as  iu  this  instance  resi^ecting  my  commission,  it  is 
not  I,  alone,  who  do  so,  but  I  and  my  Father  who  has  sent  me  judge  to- 
gether, and  thus  the  judgment  must  be  true.  I  am  not  alone ;  the  Father 
who  sent  me  is  with  me,  and  thus,  even  by  your  own  Law,  by  whicli  the 
testimony  of  two  men  is  received  as  true,  that  which  I  offer  for  myself  is 
more  than  sufficient,  for  I  offer  you  my  own  word,  and  no  one  can  convict 
me  of  untruthfulness,  and  also  the  witness  of  my  Father.  He  witnesses  for 
me  by  the  very  truths  I  utter,  and  by  the  miracles  you  admit  I  perform." 


642  THE    LIFE    OF    CIIllIST. 

"  Where  is,  then,  this  second  witness,  Thy  Father?  "  retorted  His  ads'cr- 
saries.  "  We  do  not  see  Him.  He  must  bo  here,  if,  as  you  say,  He  is  a 
witness  for  you  ?  "  He  had  too  often  spoken  of  God  as  His  Father  to  per- 
mit of  any  mistake  as  to  His  meaning,  but  they  affected  to  misunderstand 
Him.  With  perfect  calmness,  Jesus  replied,  "  You  ask  who  is  my  Father, 
and  do  not  know  me,  myself.  I  cannot  answer  you  till  you  have  juster 
conceptions  of  me.  If  you  looked  at  me,  my  teaching,  and  my  deeds,  ir> 
a  right  light,  you  would  know  who  my  Father  is,  for  He  reveals  Himself 
in  me.  But  your  hearts  are  now  so  prejudiced,  that  you  would  not 
understand  what  I  might  tell  you,  either  of  myself  or  of  Him,  were  I  to 
attempt  it." 

These  were  bold  words  in  such  a  place,  the  very  stronghold  of  His 
enemies ;  but  as  He  finished  and  rose  to  depart,  no  one  laid  hands  on 
Him.     His  hour  was  not  yet  come. 

A  fragment  of  another  discourse  delivered  like  this  in  the  Temple,  on 
one  of  the  following  days,  has  been  preserved.  The  immediate  circum- 
stances preceding  are  not  recorded,  but  there  must  have  been  another 
dispute  with  His  opponents.  A  fresh  attempt  to  win  them,  followed ;  with 
solemn  warnings  of  the  results  of  their  finally  rejecting  Him. 

"  The  time  approaches,"  said  He,  in  effect,  "  when  I  shall  leave  you,  and 
when  I  am  gone  you  will  seek  me,  that  is,  you  will  cry  out  for  the  Messiah, 
but  in  vain,  and  will  look  for  Him  without  success  ;  you  will  fain  be  de- 
livered from  the  calamities  that  will  come  on  you;  but  you  will  die,  unjoar- 
doned  and  unsanctified,  with  your  sins  on  your  souls — die  here,  and  die  for 
ever ;  for  your  seeking  me,  that  is,  the  Messiah,  will  not  be  from  faith  and 
repentance,  but  only  a  despairing  cry  for  deliverance  fi'om  temporal  dis- 
tress. You  cannot  hope  to  be  able  to  go  up  to  heaven,  to  find  and  bring 
me  down  as  your  Saviour.     I  shall  be  gone  from  you  for  ever." 

"  Will  He  kill  Himself  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  l:>itterest  among  the  by- 
standers, with  blasphemous  irony.  "  In  that  case,  certainly,  we  shall  not 
be  either  able  or  willing  to  follow  Him,  to  where  He  will  go  !  " 

Taking  no  notice  of  the  coarse  insulting  jest,  Jesus  went  on  to  point 
\  out,  calmly,  and  with  surpassing  dignity,  that  they  spake  as  they  did  only 
becavise  they  could  not  comprehend  Him  or  His  sayings,  coming  as  He  did 
from  above.  "  You  spring  from  the  earth,  I  from  heaven ;  your  natures 
and  hearts,  in  keeping  with  your  origin,  are  without  the  higher  wisdom 
and  Divine  life  of  those  who  are  born  of  God.  You  have  the  thoughts 
and  ideas  of  this  age  ;  I  speak  those  of  the  New  Kingdom  of  God.  It  was 
on  this  ground  I  said  to  you,  that  you  would  die  in  your  sins,  for  only  faith 
in  me  as  the  Messiah,  can  raise  those  who  are  not  born  from  above— gross 
fleshly  souls,  born  only  of  the  flesh— to  higher  Divine  life,  in  time  and 
eternity.  If  you  do  not  believe  that  I  am  He,  you  shall  certainly  die  in 
your  sins." 

"  I  am  He,"  was  the  sum  of  Jehovah's  self-proclamation  in  the  Old 
Testament,  and  it  was  now  repeated,  in  its  lofty  majesty,  by  Jesus,  of  His 
Dwn  Messianic  dignity.  He  could  assume  that  the  question  of  the  Messiah, 
was  the  ever-present  and  supreme  thought  of  all  His  hearers.  The  one 
point  was  whether  He,  or  another  yet  to  come,  were  the  expected  One. 


AFTER    THE    FEAST.  543 

The  Rabbinists  perfectly  understood  Him,  but  would  not  acknowledge 
that  they  did  so,  and  asked  Him  contemptuously,  "  Who  art  Thou,  then  ?  " 

"  I  am  what  I  have  said  from  the  beginning  of  my  ministry  I  was  —how 
can  you  still  ask  ?  I  have  much  to  say  respecting  you,  much  especially 
to  blame ;  but  I  refrain,  and  confine  myself  to  my  immediate  mission — 
to  jiroclaini  to  mankind  what  I  have  received  from  Him  who  sent  me." 
Strange  as  it  might  seem,  though  He  had  used  similar  terms  so  often 
that  the  allusion  to  God  was  generally  recognised  at  once.  His  hearers 
did  not  in  this  instance  understand  Him. 

Seeing  their  hesitation.  He  went  on :  "  Had  you  acknowledged  me  as 
the  Messiah,  you  would  have  understood  what  I  have  said  of  my  Father. 
B  at  when  you  have  crucified  me,  you  will  know  that  I  am  He,  and  that  I 
never  act  alone,  but  speak  only  what  I  have  heard  from  my  Father  before 
I  came  into  the  world.  My  glory,  which  will  be  revealed  after  I  die,  will 
force. you  to  realize  this."  He  referred  to  the  future  descent  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  after  His  resurrection,  the  miracles  of  the  Apostles,  the  spread  of 
His  Kingdom,  the  judgment  of  God  on  the  nation,  and  His  final  return  iu 
the  clouds  of  heaven  at  the  last  day.  "My  Father  w'ho  sent  me,"  He  con- 
tinued, "  has  not  left  me  alone,  though  you  do  not  see  Him,  but  have  befoi'e 
you  only  a  lowly  man,  in  the  midst  of  enemies ;  He  is  ever  with  me,  for  I 
do  always  the  things  that  ])lease  Him." 

These  lofty  words  must  have  been  wondrously  borne  out  by  His  whole 
air,  and  by  the  calm  truth  and  heavenliness  of  His  tone  and  looks ;  for, 
instead  of  repelling  His  hearers  by  the  contradiction  between  claims  so 
awful,  and  Him  who  made  them,  which  we  instinctively  feel  there  must 
have  been  had  they  been  uttered  by  sinful  men  like  ourselves,  they  won 
many  to  believe  in  Him,  there  and  then,  as  the  Messiah. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  feel  that  such  words  were  a  distinct  claim  of 
absolute  sinlessuess,  on  which  no  mere  man  could  for  a  moment  venture. 
Yet  in  His  mouth  they  seemed  only  the  fitting  expression  of  evident  ti'uth. 
Nor  is  it  possible  to  exaggerate  their  importance.  When  we  remember 
how  entirely  His  whole  life  was  devoted  to  the  enforcement  of  the  purest 
morals,  even  in  the  dom^ain  of  thought  and  conscience  they  acquire  a  sig- 
nificance that  awes  the  mind.  Such  an  absolute  purity  implied  the  keenest 
discrimination  between  good  and  evil,  holiness  and  sin.  "  To  please  God," 
was  with  Him  no  empty  phrase,  but  imj^lied  a  Divine  holiness  in  the  very 
fountains  of  being ;  pure  as  the  light  of  a  morning  without  clouds.  Yet 
His  language  respecting  Himself  was  always  the  same.  The  greatest 
saints  are  most  ready  to  bewail  their  unworthiness ;  but  He  never  for  a 
moment  humbles  Himself  before  God  for  sin ;  never  asks  pardon  for  it ; 
and  not  only  makes  no  aijproach  to  expressing  a  sense  of  needing  repent- 
ance and  forgiveness,  but  calmly  takes  on  Himself  the  Divine  prerogative 
of  forgiving  the  sins  of  men.  The  Ideal  of  humility  and  truth  and  holy 
life.  He  must  have  known  His  own  spiritual  state  Avith  exact  fidelity,  for 
the  passing  of  even  an  unworthy  thought  over  such  a  soul,  Avould  have 
instantly  clouded  its  peace  and  joy.  Yet,  with  this  perfect  self-knowledge, 
He  covdd  calmly  claim  tliat  His  Father  saw  in  Him  only  His  own  imago 
of  perfect  holiness,  which  alone  can  please  Him. 


544  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

The  overpowering  impression  produced  on  His  hearers,  was,  however, 
too  sudden  and  superficial  for  permanence. 

Resuming  His  discourse,  therefore.  He  went  on  addressing  those  who, 
for  the  moment,  in  sjoite  of  themselves,  believed  on  Him—"  If  your  present 
professions  be  deep  and  lasting,  and  you  continue  permanently  in  the  same 
mind,  acknowledging  me  as  the  Messiah,  and  carrying  out  my  teaching  in 
your  hearts  and  lives,  you  will  be  my  disciples  indeed.  You  will  then,  by 
experience,  know  the  power  and  worth  of  the  Divine  truths  of  my  Person 
and  teaching,  for  my  words  are  the  truth,  and  the  truth  will  make  you 
free." 

He  spoke,  of  course,  of  spiritual  freedom ;  of  emanciiDation  from  a  sinful 
life  by  the  elevating  and  purifying  influence  of  their  new  faith ;  but,  like 
Nicodemus  with  the  new  birth,  or  the  Samaritan  woman  with  the  living 
water,  or  the  Twelve  with  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees,  they  understood  the 
word  only  of  political  liberty,  and  in  a  moment  showed  how  little  they 
comprehended  their  new  Master's  spirit.  Their  fierce  Jewish  pride  was 
instantly  in  a  blaze. 

"  Free  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  they.  "  We  are  the  descendants  of 
Abraham ;  the  race  to  whom  God  gave  the  promise  of  being  the  first  of 
nations,  His  chosen  people.  We  have  never  been  in  bondage  to  anj. 
What  do  you  mean  ?  "  They  conveniently  forgot  the  episodes  of  Egypt 
and  Babylon,  and  thought  of  the  shadow  of  political  liberty  they  enjoyed 
under  the  prudent  Eomans,  by  the  retention  of  their  own  laws,  as  in  the 
protected  States  of  India  under  Britain.  It  was  an  offence  punishable 
with  excommunication  for  one  Jew  to  call  another  a  slave,  and  part  of 
their  morning  prayer,  even  when  under  a  foreign  yoke,  ran  thus — "  Blessed 
be  the  Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  has  made  me  a  free 
man." 

But  Jesus  answered,  "  With  all  earnestness,  let  me  tell  you  that  every 
one  who  commits  sin  is  under  the  power  of  sin — a  slave  under  that  of  his 
master.  I  speak  of  spiritual  liberty,  not  of  political.  You  have  need  of 
the  help  I  can  and  will  give  you,  if  you  desire  to  free  j^ourself  from  this 
moral  slavery — the  bondage  to  your  own  sinful  inclinations  and  habits 
You  are  slaves  in  the  great  household  of  God,  not  sons,  and  the  slave  has 
no  claim  to  remain  always  in  the  household ;  it  is  in  the  power  of  his  lord 
to  sell  him  to  another,  or  to  put  him  out,  when  he  pleases.  All  men, 
whether  Jews  or  others,  are  sinners,  and  as  such,  slaves  of  their  sin,  and 
must  be  made  free,  before  they  can  claim,  as  you  do,  to  belong  of  right  to 
the  household  of  God.  Ho  will  not  treat  the  slaves  of  sin  as  His  sons,  but 
will  turn  them  out  of  His  kingdom  as  a  lord  drives  out  an  unworthy  slave. 
But  I,  the  Son  of  God,  abide  in  God's  household,  as  His  Son,  for  ever,  and 
hence  if  by  the  truth  I  proclaim,  and  the  grace  I  secvire  you,  I  free  you 
from  slavery  to  sin,  you  will  be  really  free;  not  outwardly  only,  and  in 
name,  as  now.  Were  I  not  to  be  always,  as  His  Son,  in  the  Household  of 
God,  my  Father,  you  might  doubt  my  power,  or  fear  because  of  my  absence ; 
but  my  presence  there  for  ever  gives  you  perfect  security  that  the  freedom 
I  offer  will  be  real  and  abiding.  I  know  that  you  are  descended  from 
Abraham,  but  it  is  only  in  a  bodily  sense.     If  you  were  his  spiritual  sons, 


AFTEE    THE    FEAST.  545 

you  would  believe  in  me ;  but,  now,  in  spite  of  your  passing  belief,  I  see 
that  you  have  turned  against  me  already,  and  gone  back  to  those  who 
would  kill  me.  Need  I  say  that  j'ou  act  thus  only  because  my  teaching 
had  no  real  hold  on  your  hearts  ?  I  have  told  you  what  I  have  seen  when 
I  was  still  with  my  Father ;  but  you  act  according  to  the  teaching  of  youY 
father." 

"  Our  father,"  interrupted  some,  "  is  Abraham," — for  they  saw  that  He 
meant  something  else.  "  If  ye  were  in  the  true  sense,"  replied  Jesus,  "  not 
in  mere  outward  descent,  the  sons  of  Abraham,  you  would  imitate  Abraham ; 
to  do  so  is  the  only  descent  from  him  of  worth  before  God.  But  you  seek 
to  kill  me,  a  man  who  has  s])oken  to  j'ou  the  truth,  which  I  have  received 
from  God,  for  your  good,  because  it  humbles  your  pride  and  self-righteous- 
ness. Abraham  would  never  have  acted  thus.  He  received  and  rejoiced 
in  the  truth  as  revealed  to  him,  though  it  was  far  less  clear  than  my  words 
have  made  it  to  you.  The  fact  is,  I  repeat,  with  unutterable  sadness,  you 
act  as  your  father  teaches  you." 

"  \\liat  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  out  a  number  at  once.  "  You  say  that 
Abraham  is  not  our  father ;  who  is  our  father,  then  ?  Do  you  mean  that 
Sarah,  our  mother,  was  unfaithful  to  Abraham,  and  that  he  was  only  our 
father  in  name,  not  in  fact  ?  AVe  have  only  one  father,  iiot  tioo,  as  they 
who  are  born  from  adultery,  and  if  j-ou  deny  it  is  Ahraham,  it  must  be  God." 

"  If  God  were  your  father,  you  would  love  ME,"  quietly  replied  Jesus, 
"  for  I  am  the  Very  Son  of  God,  proceeding,  in  my  Being,  from  Him,  and 
descending  from  heaven  to  mankind.  I  have  not  come  from  any  personal 
and  private  act  of  my  own,  but  as  the  Messiah  sent  forth  by  the  Father. 
You  cannot  understand  what  I  say,  because  your  hearts  are  so  gross  that 
you  have  no  ears  for  my  teaching;  it  is  dark  to  you  because  you  are 
morally  blind.  So  far  from  being  the  spiritual  children  of  Abraham,  far 
less  of  God,  you  are  children  of  the  devil ;  and,  true  to  your  nature,  ye 
copy  your  father.  From  the  beginning  of  the  human  race  he  was  a  mur- 
derer, and  put  away  the  truth  from  him,  because  there  is  no  truth  in  him. 
The  devil  is  a  liar  by  nature,  and  lives  in  lies,  and  knows  nothing  of  truth, 
and  his  children  are  liars  like  their  father—  that  is,  they  thrust  away  the 
truth  from  them,  as  you  are  doing  now. 

"  Because  I  speak  the  truth,  and  do  not  seek,  like  Satan,  to  win  you  to 
evil,  by  flattering  your  self-deception  and  sins,  you  do  not  believe  me. 
Yet  would  I  deceive  you  ?  Who  of  you  can  convict  me  of  sin  ?  But  if  I 
l)e  sinless,  I  can  have  no  untruthfulness,  no  lie,  in  me,  and,  therefore,  what 
I  speak  must  be  truth  and  truth  only.  Hence  I  am  right  in  saying  yoy 
cannot  be  the  children  of  God,  for  he  that  is  of  God  hears  God's  words, 
that  is,  hears  me,  for  I  speak  the  words  of  God.  That  you  are  not  really 
the  children  of  God,  though  you  call  yourselves  such,  explains  why  you  do 
not  believe  in  me." 

"That  proves  what  we  said  of  you,"  interrupted  some  of  the  crowd. 
"  Such  language  about  your  own  nation  shows  that  we  wei'e  right  in 
saying  that  you  were  a  Samaritan,  an  enemy  of  the  true  people  of  God, 
and  possessed  with  a  devil." 

"  I  have  not  a  devil,"  rejilied  Jesus  ;  "  I  honour  my  Father  by  these  very 

N   N 


546  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

words,  for  they  tend  to  the  glory  of  God.  As  He  has  taught  me,  so  I 
teach  you,  when  I  say  that  the  wicked  are  servants  and  children  of  the 
devil.  Yet,  though  I  speak  not  from  my  own  authority,  but  that  of  God, 
you  do  me,  His  messenger,  the  great  dishonour  of  saying  I  have  a  devil. 
But  I  shall  not  attempt  to  refute  the  slander,  for  I  care  nothing  for  either 
your  approval  or  praise.  There  is  one  here— my  Father — who  cares  for 
my  honour,  and  will  judge  those  who  condemn  me.  Would  that  none  of 
you  expose  yourselves  to  His  wrath  !  May  you  rather  receive  from  Him 
life  eternal !  Once  more,  let  me  repeat,  He  that  believes  in  me,  and  obeys 
my  words,  shall  never  taste  death." 

As  usual,  the  hearers  put  a  material  sense  on  those  words,  and  under- 
stood them  of  natural  death ;  taking  it  as  a  proof  of  their  assertion  as  to 
His  having  a  devil,  that  He  could  promise  any  one  that  He  should  never 
die.  "  Even  Abraham  died,"  said  they,  "  and  so  did  the  prophets.  "Whom 
do  you  make  yourself  ?  You  put  yourself  above  all  men,  even  the  greatest. 
Abraham  could  not  ward  ofE  death,  nor  could  the  pro25hets.  Do  you  claim 
to  be  greater  than  they  ?  " 

"Were  I,  for  mere  desire  of  glory,"  replied  Jesus,  "to  boast  of  being 
greater  than  Abraham,  such  glory  would  be  idle.  If  what  I  have  said 
tend  to  exalt  me,  it  is  not  I  who  honour  myself,  but  my  Father,  by  whose 
authority  I  act  and  speak,  that  honours  me — my  Father,  of  whom  you  say 
He  is  3^our  God.  If  you  fail  to  see  that  He  constantly  does  so,  it  is  because, 
in  sijitc  of  your  calling  yourselves  His  jieople,  you  have  not  known  Him. 
But  I  know  Him,  as  only  His  Son  can.  If  I  were  to  say  that  I  did  not 
know  Him,  and  speak  His  words,  I  should  be,  like  yourselves,  untruthful ; 
but  I  both  know  Him,  and  keep  all  His  commands,  for  my  whole  life  is 
obedience  to  Him. 

"  But  that  you,may  know  that  I  really  am  greater  than  even  Abraham, 
the  Friend  of  God ;  let  me  tell  you  that  Abraham,  when  he  received,  with 
such  joy,  the  promise  that  the  Messiah  should  come  from  his  race,  and 
bless  all  nations,  was  rejoicing  that  he  would,  hereafter,  from  Heaven, 
see  my  day,  and  he  has  seen  my  appearing,  from  his  abode  in  Paradise, 
and  exulted  at  it." 

The  crowd,  gross  as  usual,  understood  these  words  to  refer  to  Abraham's 
earthly  life,  and  fancied  that  Jesus  was  now  claiming  to  have  been  alive 
so  long  ago  as  the  time  of  Abraham,  and  to  have  known  him. 

"  It  is  two  thousand  years  ago  since  Abraham's  day,"  broke  in  a  voice, 
"  and  you  are  not  fifty  years  old  yet ;  do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  seen 
Abraham  P  " 

"  I  mean  to  say,"  replied  Jesus,  "  far  more  than  even  that.  Let  me  tell 
you,  with  the  utmost  solemnity,  before  Abraham  was  born,  I  Am." 

This  was  the  very  phrase  in  which  Jehovah  had  announced  Himself  to 
Israel  in  Egypt.  It  implied  a  continuous  existence  from  the  beginning, 
as  if  the  speaker.  Himself,  claimed  to  be  the  Uncreated  Eternal.  Abraham 
had  come  into  being,  but  He  had  independent  existence,  without  a  be- 
ginning. 

His  hearers  instantly  took  it  in  this  august  'meaning,  and  Jesus,  the 
Truth,  made  no  attempt,  then  or  afterwards,  to  undeceive  them.     Utterly 


THE    LAST   MONTH   OF   THE    YEAR.  547 

turned  against  Him,  they  rushed  hither  and  thither,  iu  wild  fanaticism, 
for  stones,  with  which  to  put  Him  to  death  as  a  bh^sphemer.  Many  of 
those  used  in  the  building  of  parts  of  the  Temple,  still  incomplete,  lay  in 
piles  at  different  spots.  But  Jesus  hid  Himself  among  the  crowd,  some 
of  whom  were  less  hostile,  and,  in  the  confusion,  passed  safely  out  of  the 
sacred  precincts. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE   lAST   MONTH   OF   THE    YEAU. 

"pEUDENCE  demanded  that  Jesus  should  for  a  time  withdraw  from 
-*-  Jerusalem,  after  the  outbreak  of  murderous  fanaticism  in  the  Temple 
courts,  and  He  would  be  the  more  inclined  to  this  because  Judea  had,  as 
yet,  enjoyed  so  small  a  share  of  His  ministry.  The  unmeasured  religious 
pride,  which  had  resisted  any  impression  in  His  first  lengthened  visit 
might  possibly  yield,  in  some  cases,  after  the  incidents  of  His  work  iu 
Galilee  and  Jerusalem,  and  doubtless  did  so;  perhaps  iu  more  instances 
than  we  suspect.  But  whatever  the  success.  He  could  not  leave  the 
special  home-land  of  Israel  without  one  more  attempt  to  win  it  to  the  New 
Kingdom  of  God.  Hence  the  next  months,  till  after  the  Ecast  of  Dedication 
in  December,  were  spent  either  in  Jerusalem  or  Judea. 

In  these  last  weeks  of  His  life  Jesus  found  a  home,  from  time  to  time, 
in  the  bosom  of  a  village  family  in  Bethany,  on  the  east  side  of  the  Mount 
of  Olives.  When  He  first  came  to  know  them  is  not  told ;  perhaps  they 
were  among  the  few  fruits  of  his  former  sojourn  in  Judea;  possibly  the 
family  of  him  who  is  known  in  the  Gospels  as  Simon  the  Leper ;  whom 
Christ  had  cured  during  His  early  Judean  labours,  and  thus  won  to  the 
Faith.  Bethany  is  easily  reached  from  Jerusalem.  The  flight  of  steps  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Temple,  before  the  Golden  Gate,  led  to  the  quiet  valley 
of  the  Kedron.  A  bridge  over  the  sometimes  dry  channel  of  the  stream 
opened  into  a  camel  path,  rising,  past  Gethsemane,  in  a  slow  and  gentle 
ascent,  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  which  lies  between  the  Mount  of  Olives 
and  that  which  Pompey  had  defiled  by  his  camp, — called,  from  this,  the 
Hill  of  Offence.  To  save  distance,  however,  a  footway  ran  from  Geth- 
semane over  the  top  of  Olivet,  and  this,  travellers  like  Jesus  for  the  most 
part  preferred  to  the  other,  easier,  but  more  circuitous  road.  Descending 
the  eastern  slope,  a  few  steps  led  from  the  bare  hill-side,  with  its  scattered, 
prickly  shrubs,  to  a  sweet  hollow,  rich  in  fig,  almond,  and  olive  trees, 
through  which  wound  a  road,  here  and  there  cut  out  in  the  side  of  the 
hill.  Ascending  the  east  end  of  this  dell,  Bethany  lay  close  in  sight,  only 
three-quarters  of  an  hour's  distance  from  Jerusalem,  but  hidden  from  it 
by  a  spur  of  the  Mount  of  Olives.  The  ruins  of  a  tower  rise,  now,  over 
the  highest  point  of  the  village,  but  they  are  of  later  date  than  the  days 
of  our  Lord.  The  houses,  whitewashed  and  flat-roofed,  lie  hidden  among 
the  surrounding  heights,  amidst  green  fields  and  trees  of  many  kinds ;  all 
the  more  charming,  as  the  eastern  side  of  Mount  Olivet,  the  background 
to  the  picture,  is  much  more  barren  and  dreary  than  the  wcsteri;. 


648  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

In  this  sequestered  spot,  on  the  edge  of  the  great  wilderness  of  Judea, 
Jesus  found  a  delightful  retreat  in  the  vine-covered  cottage  of  Martha 
and  Mary  and  their  brother  Lazarus.  Loving  and  beloved,  it  always 
offered  a  jieaceful  retirement  fi'om  the  confusion  and  danger  of  the  Temple 
courts,  or  the  still  more  exhausting  circuits  of  His  wider  southern  journeys. 
It  was  the  one  spot,  so  far  as  we  know,  that  He  could  call  home  in  these 
last  months,  but  it  was  apparently  the  sweetest  and  best  loved,  He  had 
ever  had. 

The  household  consisted  of  two  sisters  and  a  brother — Martha,  Mary, 
and  Lazarus — names  which  mark  the  transition  character  of  the  times ; 
for,  while  "  Martha "  was  the  iincbanged  native  equivalent  of  "  lady," 
"Mary"  and  "Lazarus  "  were  Greek  forms  of  the  old  Hebrew  "  Miriam" 
and  "  Eleazer."  May  we  ti-ace,  in  this  superiority  to  narrow  conservatism, 
a  liberality  in  their  joarents,  which  led  both  them  and  their  children  to 
receive  the  Galitean  teacher  so  readily  and  so  fondly  ?  They  had  evidently 
been  disciples  before  this  last  stay  in  Judea;  probably  from  the  time  of 
their  now  dead  father,  who  must  often  have  talked  over  with  them  his 
reasons  for  loving  tinist  in  Christ. 

Martha  appears  to  have  been  the  head  of  the  little  household,  and  may 
have  been,  as  many  have  believed,  a  widow.  The  family  seems  to  have 
had  a  good  social  position,  and  to  have  been  above  the  average  in  circum- 
stances. The  character  of  the  two  sisters  shows  itself  vividly  in  the  first 
notice.  Martha  shares  the  piety  of  her  sister,  but  fails,  at  first,  to  rise  to 
such  a  high  conception  of  the  nature  and  dignity  of  their  wondrous  Friend 
as  Mary,  and  is  busied  with  the  practical  cares  of  life  to  an  extent  that 
seems  to  Him  excessive.  Amiably  anxious  for  the  comfort  of  her  guest, 
she  is  absorbed  in  every  detail  of  hospitality  which  she  thinks  likely  to 
please  Him,  while  Mary  sits  at  His  feet,  to  listen  to  His  words  and  watch 
His  every  look.  The  busy,  motherly  Martha,  seeing  her  sister  thus 
seemingly  idle,  feels  a  passing  jealousy  and  annoyance,  unworthy  of  her 
calmer  self — for  a  word  or  a  look  would  doubtless  have  been  enough — and 
comes  impatiently  to  Jesus  with  a  complaint,  not  free  from  irreverence. 
"  Lord,"  says  she,  "  do  you  not  care  that  my  sister  has  left  me  to  do  all 
the  work  alone?  If  you  speak  to  her,  she  w^ill  help  me."  As  if  to  imply 
that  she  would  pay  no  attention  to  Martha's  words. 

The  gentle  calmness  of  Jesus,  too  grateful  to  both  for  their  loving  ten- 
derness to  overlook  the  good  in  either,  made  only  the  tenderest  rejaly. 
"  Martha,  Martha,"  said  He,  "  my  wants  are  easily  satisfied,  and  it  is,  be- 
sides, better,  like  Mary,  to  choose  the  one  thing  needful  above  all — sujireme 
concern  for  the  things  of  God — for  it  alone  can  never  be  taken  from  us." 
Of  Lazarus,  before  his  death,  we  oidy  know  that  his  spirit  and  temper 
were  such  that  Jesus  made  him,  in  an  especial  manner.  His  friend. 

An  incident  of  this  period  is  preserved  by  St.  Luke.  In  one  of  our 
Lord's  journeys  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem,  a  Rabbi,  skilled  in 
the  Mosiac  Law,  and,  as  such,  a  public  teacher  and  interpreter  of  the 
Rabbinical  rules,  rising  from  his  seat  among  his  students,  as  Jesus  passed, 
resolved  to  show  his  wisdom  at  the  expense  of  the  hated  Galitean,  and 
trap  Him,  if  possible,  into  some  doubtful  utterance.     "Teacher,"  asked  he, 


THE   LAST   MONTH   OF   THE   YEAE.  549 

"  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?    We  know  what  the  Eabbis  enjoin, 
but  what  sayest  Thou  ?  " 

"  AVhat  is  written  in  the  Law  ?  "  replied  Jesus,  "  howreadest  thou  ?  For 
the  law  of  God  alone  can  determine  such  a  matter." 

Quoting  a  passage  which  every  Jew  repeated  in  each  morning  and  even- 
ing's prayer,  and  wore  in  the  little  text-boxes  of  his  phylactery,  he  answered 
glibly,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind,"  and  added,  in 
a  Jewish  sense,  "  and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

"  You  ai'c  quite  right,"  said  Jesus  ;  "  do  this,  and  you  shall  live." 

The  answer  hardly  left  room  for  anything  further  ;  but  the  questioner 
would  not  be  balked  of  an  ojiportunity  of  showing  his  acuteness,  and,  per- 
haps, of  drawing  Jesus  into  a  difRcultj^.  No  command  was  so  plain  as 
not  to  furnish  subjects  for  dispute  to  hair-splitting  theologians  of  his 
class ;  and,  in  this  case,  there  had  been  endless  wrangling  in  the  Eabbini- 
cal  schools  on  the  definition  of  the  word  "  neighbour."  Jcsvis,  moreover, 
as  was  well  known,  held  very  broad  views  on  the  subject ;  views  utterly 
heterodox  in  the  eyes  of  the  schools.  Determined  not  to  let  conversation 
drop,  the  questioner,  therefore,  opened  it  afresh. 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me,"  said  he,  "  who  is  my  neighbour.  Pray  do 
so,  else  I  may  fail  in  my  duty." 

Instead  of  answering  him  directly,  Jesus  rei^lied,  in  the  fashion  of  the 
Eabbis  themselves,  by  a  parable,  which  I  amplify  for  its  clearer  under- 
standing. 

"A  certain  man,"  said  He,  "went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho. 
You  know  the  way,  so  steep,  wild, and  dangerous:  well  called  the  Bloody 
Eoad,  for  who  can  tell  how  many  robberies  and  murders  have  happened  on 
it  in  these  unsettled  times,  when  the  country  is  full  of  men  driven  from 
their  homes  by  oppression  and  misery  ?  As  he  went  on,  a  band  of  robbers 
from,  the  wild  gorges  through  which  the  road  sinks,  rushed  out  ujion  him ; 
stripped  him,  for  he  was  a  poor  man,  with  only  his  clothes  to  take  from 
him  ;  beat  him  when  he  resisted,  and  then  made  off,  leaving  him  half  dead. 

"  As  he  lay  bleeding,  insensible,  and  naked  on  the  rough  stones,  a  ^Driest, 
who,  like  so  many  more,  lived  at  Jericho,  and  had  finished  his  course  at 
the  Temple,  went  past.  He  was  busy  reading  the  copy  of  the  Law,  which 
all  priests  carry  with  them ;  but  as  he  came  near  and  saw  the  wounded 
and  seemingly  dying  man,  he  hastily  crossed  over  and  passed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  afraid  of  defiling  himself  by  blood,  or  by  the  touch  of  one 
perhaps  unclean, 

"  Soon  after,  a  Levite,  also  from  the  Temple,  came  by,  and  he,  when  he 
saw  the  injured  man,  stepped  over  to  him,  and  stood  for  a  time  looking  at 
him,  but  presently  crossed  the  road  again,  as  if  he  had  been  polluted,  and 
went  on  in  all  haste,  lest  the  like  should  happen  to  himself. 

"  But  a  Samaritan,  travelling  that  way,  came  where  the  poor  man  lay, 
and,  when  he  saw  him,  was  moved  with  comjiassion  at  his  misery ;  and 
went  to  him,  and,  lighting  from  his  ass,  bound  up  his  wounds,  after  pour- 
ing oil  mixed  with  wine  on  them,  to  assuage  the  pain  and  soften  the  in- 
jured parts  ;  and  set  him  on  his  own  beast,  never  thinking  whom  he  might 


650  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

be  liclping — Avlietlier  Jgay,  heathen,  or  fellow-countryman,  or  of  his  own 
clanger  in  such  a  spot ;  and  brought  him  to  the  khan,  which,  you  know, 
stands  at  the  road-side,  amidst  the  bare  walls  of  rocks,  thi'ce  hours  from 
Jerusalem.  There  he  had  every  care  taken  of  him,  and  stayed  with  him, 
tending  him  through  the  night.  His  own  business  forced  him  to  leave 
next  day ;  but  before  doing  so,  he  went  to  the  keeper  of  the  khan,  and 
gave  him  two  denarii,  telling  him  to  take  care  of  him,  and  adding,  that  if 
more  were  needed,  he  would  give  it  when  he  came  back. 

"  Which  of  these  three,  do  you  think,  was  neighbour  to  him  that  fell 
among  the  robbers  ?  " 

The  Rabbi,  true  to  his  national  hatred,  would  not  utter  tlie  abhorred 
word,  "  the  Samaritan."     "  He  that  had  mercy  on  him,  no  doubt,"  said  he. 

"  Go  and  do  thou  in  like  manner,"  replied  Jesus,  and  left  him,  it  may  be 
humbled  and  mortified,  but  it  is  to  be  hoped,  a  wiser  and  better  man. 

A  fragment  of  the  familiar  instructions  of  these  months,  by  which 
Jesus  daily  trained  His  disciples,  is  preserved  to  us  by  St.  Luke.  At  an 
earlier  ])eriod.  He  had  given  the  Twelve  and  His  other  hearers  a  model  of 
prayer,  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  but  now,  one,  perhaps  of  the  later 
disciples,  asked  for  such  a  form  as  other  Eabbis,  and  as  John,  taught  their 
followers.  With  the  gentle  repetition  we  so  often  find  in  the  Gospels, 
Jesus,  forthwith,  once  more  recited  the  model  He  had  already  prescribed, 
and  took  advantage  of  the  request,  to  enforce  the  value  of  prayer  by  simi- 
lar assurances  of  answer  from  God  as  He  had  given  before.  In  one  detail, 
however.  He  varied  His  language,  by  adding  a  brief  and  pointed  parable. 

"You  know,"  said  He,  "  how  it  is  with  men.  If  any  of  you  have  a  friend, 
and  having  gone  to  him  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  call  through  the  door, 
'  Friend,  lend  me  three  loaves,  for  a  friend  of  mine  has  just  come  to  my 
house  from  a  journey  ;  the  weather  was  so  hot,  he  could  not  start  till  the 
cool  of  the  day,  and  this  has  made  him  late,  and  I  have  nothing  to  set 
before  him  ;  '  most  likely  he  whom  you  thus  disturb  will  say  to  you  from 
within,  '  Trouble  me  not ;  the  door  is  locked  for  the  night,  and  my  child- 
ren arc  with  me  in  bed,  and  I  cannot  wake  them.  I  cannot  get  nj)  and  give 
you  what  you  ask.'  Yet,  if  you  refuse  to  leave,  and  keep  renewing  your 
request,  he  will,  in  the  end,  rise  and  give  you  as  many  loaves  as  you  need, 
yielding  to  your  importunity,  what  he  would  not  do  for  you  as  his  friend. 

"  If,  now,  selfish  men  listen  to  those  who  thus  will  not  take  a  denial,  how 
much  more  surely  will  the  God  of  love  listen  to  humble  and  persistent 
prayer  ?  Be  sure,  therefore,  that  they  who,  with  earnest,  believing  souls, 
seek  the  supply  of  spiritual  wants  for  themselves  or  others,  will  assuredly 
have  their  petitions  heard." 

While  He  was  still  in  Jerusalem  and  its  neighbourhood,  the  Seventy, 
having  fulfilled  their  mission,  made  their  way  back  to  Him.  Like  the 
Twelve,  they  returned  in  greatjoy  at  the  ir  success,  and  reported  that  even 
the  devils  had  been  subject  to  them,  through  their  Master's  name,  though 
they  had  received  no  such  special  power  over  them  as  He  had  given  to  the 
Twelve.  It  was  a  moment  of  calm  triumph  to  Jesus,  as  the  sure  anticipa- 
tion of  infinitely  greater  results  hereafter.  His  spirit  caught  the  conta- 
gion of  their  gladness,  and  gloom  and  despondency  were  forgotten  in  tho 


THE  LAST  MONTH  OF  THE  YEAE.  551 

vision  of  the  future  triumph  of  the  New  Kiugdom — His  one  all-absorbing 
thought.  But  there  was  a  danger  lest  their  very  success  might  injure 
them.  The  consideration  they  had  won  by  it  might  tend  to  unworthy 
pride.     It  was  needful  to  warn  them,  and  moderate  their  self-confidence. 

"You  need  not  wonder,"  said  He,  "that  Satan  is  not  able  to  withstand 
you.  Long  ere  now,  I  foresaw,  in  spirit,  that  he  would  fall  like  a  light- 
ning-flash from  the  height  of  his  power,  at  my  coming,  and  the  putting 
forth  of  my  might.  He  has  fallen,  now,  to  the  earth,  where  his  craft  and 
designs  can  be  seen  and  met.  His  sway  is  already  broken  by  the  new- 
begun  Kingdom  of  God.  It  has  struck  him  down,  as  it  were,  from  the 
sky,  with  its  secrecy  and  sudden  surprises  ;  and  he  is,  now,  as  if  seen  and 
easy  to  shun.  I  have  broken  his  sceptre,  and  made  it  possible  for  you  to 
do  what  you  have  done.  Take  heed,  therefore,  not  to  think  too  much  of 
yourselves,  as  if  the  success  were  your  own.  I  now  give  you  far  greater 
power  than  any  you  have  yet  enjoyed.  You  will,  hereafter,  tread  all 
Satanic  powers—the"  serpents  and  scorpions  of  hell — under  your  feet,  as 
victors  tread  under  foot  their  conquered  foes,  and  nothing  will  be  suffered 
to  hinder  your  triumph  as  my  servants.  You  need  not,  therefore,  fear 
Satan. 

"  Yet  success  over  the  enemy  of  souls  is  not  that  in  which  you  should 
rejoice  most.  It  may  raise  pride,  and  make  you  too  secure.  Rather 
rejoice  that  your  names,  as  my  disciples,  are  in  the  roll  of  citizens  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  It  is  an  infinitely  greater  honour  than  any  outward 
respect  these  wonders  could  bring  j'ou." 

The  murderous  outburst  from  which  Jesus  had  fled,  was  now  a  thing  of 
the  past,  so  that  He  could  once  more  venture  into  Jerusalem,  and  even 
into  the  Temple.  The  spacious  porches  were  a  favourite  haunt  of  the 
afilicted  poor,  and  among  those,  of  a  man  blind  from  his  birth.  Surrounded 
and  followed,  as  usual,  by  a  number  of  disciples,  Jesus  was,  one  day, 
passing,  when  this  man  attracted  His  notice.  It  is  not  said  that  He  spoke 
to  him ;  but  the  mere  fact  of  His  paying  any  heed  to  him,  suggested  a 
question  to  some  of  those  around.  "  Rabbi,"  they  asked,  "  we  have  been 
taught  that  children  are  born  lame,  crooked,  maimed,  blind,  or  otherwise 
defective,  for  some  sin  of  their  parents,  or  for  some  sin  committed  by 
themselves  before  lurth.  Who  sinned,  in  this  case  ;  this  man,  or  his  parents, 
that  he  was  born  blind  ?" 

That  there  was  a  strict  system  of  rewards  and  punishments  during  the 
present  life,  according  to  the  merits  or  sins  of  individuals,  had  been  the 
original  doctrine  of  Jewish  theology.  It  had  gradually,  hoAvever,  been 
modified,  though  still  held  by  the  multitude ;  and  it  was  sujierseded  in  the 
New  Kingdom  by  the  transfer  of  final  retribution  to  the  future  world. 
The  Rabbinical  theology,  sedulously  taught  iin  every  synagogue,  sought 
to  reconcile  the  contradiction  between  the  hereditary  belief  and  the  facts 
of  life,  by  laboured  and  unsatisfactory  theories.  The  words  were  put  into 
the  mouth  of  God  Himself,  in  one  of  the  current  apologues  so  much  in 
vogue,  that  "  the  good  man,  if  prosperous,  was  so  as  the  son  of  a  righteous 
man ;  while  the  unfortunate  good  man  suffered  as  the  son  of  a  sinful 
parent.     So,  also,  the  vficked  man  might  be  prosperous,  if  the  son  of  a 


552  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST, 

godly  parent;  but  if  unfortunate,  it  sliowcd  that  his  parents  had  l)ct'U 
sinners."  It  Avas  further  believed  that  a  child  might  sin  before  its  birth, 
though  it  is  a  question  whether  there  was  any  general  idea  of  the  trans- 
migration of  souls,  to  account  for  suffering  as  the  punishment  of  sin  in 
some  earlier  existence. 

"  The  affliction  of  this  man,"  replied  Jesus,  "  has  been  caused  neither  by 
his  own  sin,  nor  by  that  of  his  parents ;  but  his  being  born  blind  offers 
an  op2iorfcunity  for  the  display  of  the  Divine  power  and  goodness  in  his 
person.  It  is  on  such  sufferers  as  he  that  I  must  show  the  mighty  works 
Avhich  God  has  given  me  to  do  as  the  Messiah.  In  His  service  I  must 
labour  imweariedly,  for  God,  my  Father,  never  ceases  to  do  good.  Like 
Him  with  His  work,  I  cannot  intermit  mine  even  on  this  day,  though  it  be 
a  Sabbath.  I  am  like  one  who  cannot  leave  his  task  till  the  night,  when 
no  one  can  work.  Night  is  coming  erelong  to  me,  when  I  shall  cease  from 
all  such  labours,  as  the  workman  does  at  the  close  of  day.  As  long  as  I 
am  in  the  world,  I  must  be  the  light  of  men ;  when  I  depart,  the  light  will 
be  Avithdrawn." 

He  might  have  opened  the  eyes  of  the  poor  man  by  a  word,  but  a  great 
lesson  Avas  to  be  taught  His  enemies.  He  wished  to  protest  once  more 
against  the  hypocritical  strictness  of  the  Kabbinical  observance  of  the 
Sabbath,  which  so  entirely  destroyed  the  true  significance  of  the  holy  day. 
He  Avould  shoAV  that  it  was  in  full  accordance  Avith  the  office  of  the  Messiah, 
not  only  Himself  to  do  what  the  dominant  party  denounced  as  Work,  on 
the  Sabbath,  but  to  require  it  also  from  him  whom  He  cured. 

It  was  the  belief,  in  antiquity,  that  the  saliva  of  one  who  Avas  fasting 
was  of  benefit  to  weak  eyes,  and  that  clay  relieved  those  who  suffered 
from  tumours  on  the  eyelids.  It  may  be  that  Jesus  thought  of  this ;  at 
any  rate,  stooping  to  the  ground,  and  mixing  saliva  Avith  some  of  the  dust, 
He  touched  the  eyes  of  the  blind  man  with  it,  and  then  sent  him  to  Avash 
it  off  in  the  pool  of  Siloam.  It  was  impossible  that  the  clay  or  the  water 
could  restore  the  eyesight ;  but  Jesus  had  once  more  asserted  His  right 
to  do  Avorks  of  mercy  on  the  Sabbath,  in  oi^position  to  the  narroAV  pre- 
tences of  the  Pharisees,  and  the  faith  of  the  inan  himself  was  put  to 
the  test.  He  fortliAvith  did  as  commanded,  and  his  sight  was  at  once 
made  perfect. 

Full  of  childish  delight  at  the  possession  of  the  new  amazing  sense,  the 
man  must  liaA'e  attracted  attention,  even  where  the  change  Avrought  in  his 
appearance  prevented  his  being  recognised.  He  Avas  well  known  in  the 
city  as  a  beggar,  blind  from  his  birth.  Presently,  some  asked,  doubting 
their  senses,  "If  this  were  not  he  who  sat  every  day  begging  ?"  "It  is 
he,"  said  one.  "  It  is  some  one  like  him,"  said  others.  "  I  am  he,"  said 
the  man.  "  How  did  you  get  your  sight,  then  ?  "  asked  a  number  at  once. 
The  man  told  them.  "  Where  is  this  Jesus  ?  "  they  asked  again  ;  but  he 
could  not  tell. 

It  Avas  clear  that  another  great  miracle  had  been  performed  by  the 
Teacher  Avhom  the  authorities  denounced;  and,  hence,  from  Avhatever 
motive,  the  man  was  taken  before  them.  The  sight  of  him  might  change 
their  feelings  toAvards  Jesus,  for  even  they  did  not  pretend  to  deny  the 


THE   LAST   MONTH   OF   THE    YEAR.  553 

supernatural  power  of  their  hated  opponent,  though  they  tried  to  attribute 
it  to  the  help  of  the  Prince  of  Devils. 

Brought  before  the  dignitaries  of  the  Law  and  Temple,  the  man  had  to 
repeat  the  story  of  his  cure.  The  miracle  could  not  be  denied;  but  the 
character  of  Christ  might,  at  least,  be  discredited,  for  it  appeared  that  He 
had  dared  to  break  the  Sabbath  both  in  act  and  word.  "  This  man  is  not 
of  God,"  said  some  of  the  Council,  "  for  does  not  the  Law  expressly  forbid 
the  anointing  of  the  eyes  with  saliva  on  the  Sabbath,  as  ivorh.  And, 
besides,  no  healing  is  permitted  on  the  Sabbath  except  when  life  is  in 
danger." 

"  How  could  a  man  that  commits  sin  work  such  miracles  ?"  replied  some 
of  the  more  liberal-minded.  "  God  would  never  give  such  power  to  such 
a  person.  There  is  something  special  that  needs  looking  into  in  this  case 
of  what  3^ou  call  Sabbath-breaking,  before  you  decide  so  confidently." 

They  were  hopelessly  divided,  and  at  last,  like  Orientals,  resolved  to  get 
the  opinion  of   the   man   himself.     They  asked  him,  therefore,   what   he 
thought  of  Him  who  had  cured  him.     "  I  think  Him  a  prophet,"  answered     ! 
the  sturdy  confessor.     But  it  would  never  do  to  admit  this,  for  even  the     { 
Eabbis  owned  that  a  prophet  might  dispense  with  the  laws  of  the  Sabbath. 

The  hostile  party  in  the  Council  were  in  a  strait,  and  would  fain  deny 
tlie  fact  of  the  miracle  altogether.  They  would,  at  least,  require  more 
evidence  than  the  man's  own  word.  Sending  the  officers  for  his  parents, 
therefore,  they  had  them  brought  before  them,  and  asked  them : 

"  Is  this  your  son,  who,  as  you  say,  was  born  blind  ?  How  comes  he  to 
see,  if  that  were  so  ?"  But  the  question  brought  no  relief,  for  the  parents 
shrcAvdly  refused  to  commit  themselves  beyond  the  bare  acknowledgment 
that  he  was  their  son,  and  that  he  had  been  born  blind.  "  He  is  of  age 
— ask  him,"  added  they.  Nor  was  their  caution  unjustified,  for  they  had 
heard  that  if  any  one  acknowledged  Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  he  would  be 
"  put  out  of  the  synagogue ; "  a  punishment  involving  the  direst  conse- 
quences socially  and  religiously.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  lesser  excommuni-  A  . 
cation,  which  lasted  thirty  clays,  but  might  be  lengthened  for  continued  ' 

impenitence,  or  curtailed  by  contrition.     It  shut  a  person  iitterly  from  the         ,' 
synagogue,  for  even  if  he  entered  it,  he  was  reckoned  as  not  present ;  no      j  \ 
mourning  for  the  dead,  and  no  rite  of  circumcision  could  take  place  in  his      \ 
house,  and  no  one  but  his  wife  or  child  could  come  within  four  cubits  of 
him. 

The  discomfited  Council  could  only  fall  back  on  the  man  himself.  "  He 
miast,"  they  told  him,  "  take  care  of  himself,  else  they  would  have  to  deal 
with  him.  He  had  better  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  confess  what  he  knew 
about  this  Jesus,  and  thus  show  that  he  feared  God,  by  giving  Him  the 
glory ;  for  we  know  very  well,"  said  they,  "  that  this  man  is  a  sinner." 
But  he  was  neither  to  be  brow-beaten  nor  dragooned,  and  would  not  yield 
an  inch  to  either  threats  or  persuasions.  "  It  is  a  very  strange  thing," 
said  he,  "  that  j'ou  talk  about  Him  so.  I  can  say  nothing  about  His  being 
a  sinner ;  I  only  know  that  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see." 

Foiled  once  more,  they  fell  back  on  their  first  question.  "  What  is  it 
you  say  He  did  to  you?     Hoav  was  it  He  opened  vour  eyes  ?"     But  they 


1)54  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

had  to  do  with  one  of  sterner  and  manlier  stnfl:  than  most.  "  I  told  you 
all  that  already,"  replied  he,  "and  yon  did  not  listen ;  "vvhy  do  j-on  "wish  to 
hear  it  again  ?     Are  you,  also,  like  me,  inclined  to  become  His  disciples  ?" 

The  court  was  not  accustomed  to  be  treated  with  so  little  deference  and 
awe ;  their  pride  and  dignity  were  sadly  fluttered,  and  they  forgot  both  in 
their  excitement.  With  the  passionate  heat  of  Orientals,  they  stooped  to 
insult  and  wrangle  vv'ith  the  humble  creature  at  their  bar.  As  they  could 
get  nothing  against  Jesus  from  him,  they  branded  him  as  His  disciple, 
"  Yoti  are  a  discijjle  of  this  Galilasan ;  toe  are  the  disciples  of  Moses,  the 
man  of  God :  we  know  that  God  spoke  to  Moses,  but  as  for  this  fellow, 
we  know  not  who  has  sent  Him— it  must  have  been  Beelzebub,  at  best." 

Unabashed,  and  true-hearted,  the  man  was  not  to  be  put  down  by  cither 
priest  or  Rabbi.  "  Well,  this  is  very  strange,"  retorted  he.  "  You  say  you 
don't  know  who  has  sent  Him,  and  yet  He  has  opened  my  eyes  !  A  man 
who  has  done  that,  must,  as  you  know,  have  come  from  God,  and  bo  no 
sinner ;  for  every  one  knows  that  God  alone  can  give  power  to  work  such 
a  miracle,  and  He  does  not  hear  sinners,  but  only  those  who  worship  Him 
truly,  and  do  His  will.  So  wonderful  an  instance  of  the  power  of  God 
being  granted  to  any  man  has  never  been  heard  of,  as  that  which  has  been 
granted  to  this  Jesus  ;  for,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  such  a  thing 
was  never  known,  as  the  opening  of  the  eyes  of  a  man  born  blind,  even  by 
the  greatest  of  the  prophets.  There  is  no  such  thing  in  any  part  of  the 
Law  or  the  Prophets.  If  this  man  were  not  from  God,  He  could  do  nothing." 

"  What !  "  screamed  several  voices  at  once.  "  You,  a  creature  tainted  to 
your  very  soul  with  sin,  before  your  bii'th,  and  born  with  its  miserable 
punishment  on  you — you,  au  out-and-out  worthless  wretch — do  you  ven- 
ture to  teach  us  ?  You  are  excommunicated."  And  so  they  cast  him  out 
of  the  synagogue,  there  and  then. 

The  report  of  this  incident  soon  reached  Jesus.  The  blind  beggar  was 
the  first  confessor  in  the  New  Kingdom,  and  its  Lord  lost  no  time  in 
acknowledging  and  strengthening  one  who  had  owned  Him  fearlessly 
before  the  very  Council  itself.  Seeking  him  out,  and  telling  him  He  had 
heard  of  his  grateful  fidelity,  He  added,  "You  believe  on  the  Son  of  God, 
do  you  not  ?  "  The  name,  as  that  of  Jesus  Himself,  had  not  reached  him, 
but  he  knew  it  as  one  of  the  titles  of  the  expected  Messiah.  "  Who  is  He, 
Lord,"  asked  he,  instantlj^  "  that  I  may  believe  on  Him?"  "Thou  hast 
seen  Him,  even  now,"  answered  Jesus,  "  and  it  is  He  who  talks  with  thee." 
It  was  enough.  The  healed  one  had  before  him  the  mysterious  Being 
whose  power  towards  himself  had  shown  him  to  be  "the  messenger  sent 
of  God,"  Him  whom  he  had  only  now  confessed.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  I 
believe,"  and  rendered  Him,  forthwith,  the  worship  due  to  the  Messiah, 
God's  anointed. 

Meanwhile,  a  crowd  had  gathered,  as  the  beggar,  now  seeing  not  only 
with  bodily  but  spiritual  eyes,  threw  himself  at  His  feet.  It  was  a 
moment  of  deep  emotion.  Addressing  Himself  to  those  around,  among 
whom,  as  usiial,  were  some  of  the  ever-watchful  Eabbis,  Jesus  seized  the 
opportunity  for  a  few  more  words  of  warning. 

"  I  am  come  into  the  world,"  said  He,  "  fan  in  hand,  to  separate   the 


THE   LAST   MONTH   OF   THE   TEAR.  555 

wheat  from  the  chaff,  and  to  bring  a  judgment-like  division  among  men. 
The  poor  in  spirit  who  feel  their  need  of  Divine  truth,  and  mourn  their 
spiritiial  blindness,  are  enlightened  by  me,  but  those  wlio  think  they  see, 
and  fancy  they  know  the  truth,  are  shown  to  be  blind,  and  are  shut  out 
from  my  kingdom,  to  the  blindness  they  have  chosen." 

"  Are  we  blind,  then  ?  "  asked  some  of 'the  Rabbis  in  the  crowd.  He 
had  classed  them  as  those  who  fancied  they  alone  saw,  and  their  pride 
was  roused  by  His  venturing  to  speak  of  them,  the  teachers  of  the  nation, 
as  ])lind— language  so  opposed  to  the  servility  shown  them  as  a  rule. 

"  Blind  ?  "  replied  Jesus,  "  it  would  l)e  well  if  you  were  so  ;  for,  in  that 
case,  your  disbelief  in  me  would  not  be  sinful.  It  would  not  show  a  wilful 
resistance  to  Divine  truth,  but  only  that  you  liad  not  yet  attained  the 
knowledge  of  it.  But  since  you  claim  to  sec,  it  makes  your  unbelief 
criminal,  and  deepens  your  guilt ;  for  it  is  your  spiritual  pride  which  leads 
you  to  reject  me,  and  thus  keeps  you  from  l^elieving,  and  so  receiving 
pardon." 

In  the  East,  as  in  lonely  mountainous  districts  of  our  own  country,  the 
relation  of  a  slicpherd  to  his  flock  is  very  different  from  the  mechanical 
and  indifferent  one  of  some  other  parts.  The  loneliness  of  pastoral  life  in 
these  countries  throws  man  and  the  creatures  he  tends  so  much  together 
— binds  them  so  to  each  other  by  a  sense  of  companionship,  of  dangers 
shared,  and  pleasures  mutually  enjoyed — that  the  Eastern  shepherd,  like 
his  counterpart  on  our  own  mountains,  forgets  the  distance  between 
himself  and  his  flock,  and  becomes  their  friend.  Nor  is  the  sense  of 
dependence  only  on  his  side.  The  sheep  are  drawn  to  their  protector  as 
much  as  he  to  them.  They  ai'e  all  to  each  other.  They  share  in  common 
the  silence  and  lonely  magnificence  of  the  mountains  or  the  desert.  We 
learn  to  love  that  for  which  we  brave  peril ;  and  the  dangers  of  torrents, 
of  robbers,  of  wolves,  of  tliirst,  or  of  straying,  endear,  to  the  Oriental,  the 
flock  for  which  they  are  borne,  as  the  dangers  of  winter  storms,  or  moun- 
tain mists,  and  the  thousand  incidents  of  pastoral  life  in  wild  districts,  do 
with  our  Highland  shepherds. 

Nothing,  therefore,  could  be  more  touching,  in  a  pastoral  counti-y  like 
Palestine,  than  images  of  care  or  tenderness  drawn  from  shepherd  life, 
and  such  Jesus  now  introduced  with  surpassing  beauty. 

"  I  have  come  into  the  world,"  said  He,  in  effect,  "  to  gather  together 
into  a  great  fold  the  new  Israel  of  God.  He  who  enters  by  the  door  is  a 
true  and  authorized  under  shepherd,  but  any  who  enter  otherwise  are  not 
true  leaders  and  shepherds,  but  are  like  thieves  and  robbers,  who  climb 
over  the  wall  for  evil  ends. 

"  When  the  true  shepherd  thus  enters  by  the  door,  the  sheep  he  tends 
hear  his  voice,  and  he  calls  them  by  name,  and  leads  them  out.  And 
when  he  has  led  forth  all  his  on-n,  he  goes  before  them,  as  the  shepherds 
before  their  sheep,  and  his  flock  follow  him,  because  they  know  his  voice. 
And,  as  a  stranger,  who  is  not  the  shepherd  known  by  a  flock,  scatters  it 
in  alarm,  as  soon  as  the  sheep  hear  his  voice,  so,  while  true  shepherds  are 
recognised  as  such  by  the  spiritual  Israel,  pretenders  are  known  by  their 
words,  and  shunned."     The  drift  of  this  parable,  or  allegory,  was   suffi- 


556  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

ciently  trauspai'cnt,  but  those  at  whom  it  was  pointed  were  too  self-satisfied 
to  recognise  it.     Tliey  declai'ed  it  unintelligible. 

Jesus,  therefore,  felt  Himself  necessitated  to  repeat  the  main  thought, 
and  thus  enforce  it  on  their  attention. 

"I  see,"  said  He,  "  that  you  do  not  understand  the  parable  I  have  just 
delivered  :  let  me  explain  it.  I  tell  you  with  the  utmost  solemnity,  I  am 
the  one  only  Door  of  the  fold  of  the  flock  of  God.  Other  teachers  have 
sought  to  lead  you  in  your  day,  but  all  who  have  done  so,  before  my 
coming,  are  like  the  thieves  and  robbers  who  enter  a  fold  over  the  wall. 
I  frankly  tell  you  I  mean  the  priests  and  Rabbis,  my  enemies.  They  have 
refused  to  enter,  through  me,  the  Door,  and  have  rejected  me.  But  the 
true  sheep  of  God — the  spiritual  Israel — have  not  listened  to  them.  Note 
well,  as  I  repeat  it — I,  alone,  am  the  Door  of  the  true  fold  of  the  flock  of 
God.  If  any  one  enter  by  me  into  the  fold,  as  a  shepherd  or  teacher  and 
leader  of  the  flock,  he,  himself,  will  be  saved  in  the  world  to  come,  and 
preserved  to  life  eternal,  and  will  have  free  entrance  to  the  sheep  here,  to 
lead  them  out  to  pasture.  He  who  does  not  thus  enter  through  me,  seeks 
the  sheep  only  for  selfish  and  evil  ends  ;  like  the  thief,  who,  avoiding  the 
door,  climbs  over  into  the  fold,  to  steal,  kill,  and  destroy.  I  may  call 
myself,  in  opposition  to  such  false  shepherds,  not  only  the  Door,  but  the 
Good  Shepherd,  for  I  have  come,  not  to  destroy  the  flock  of  God,  but  to 
give  them  true  abiding  life  in  my  kingdom,  and  that  with  all  fulness  and 
delight  of  spiritual  joys. 

"  I  am,  indeed,  the  Good  Shepherd,  for  I  come  to  lay  down  my  life  for 
the  sheep.  But  he  who  is  a  hireling  and  not  a  true  shepherd — he  who 
seeks  to  lead  and  teach  the  flock  of  God,  not  from  love  and  self-sacrifice, 
but  for  gain ;  the  hypocrite  who  jn-etends  to  be  a  shepherd— sees  the 
powers  of  evil  coming  like  a  ravening  wolf,  to  tear  the  flock  by  perse- 
cutions ;  and  flees,  and  leaves  it  to  its  fate,  so  that  they  snatch  off  many, 
and  scatter  all.  He  thus  flees  because  he  is  only  a  hireling,  thinking  of 
himself  and  caring  nothing  for  the  sheep. 

"  I,  once  more,  am  the  Good  Shepherd,  and  no  hireling,  for  I  know  my 
sheep,  and  they  know  me  with  such  deep  communion  of  love  and  spiritual 
life  as  thei-e  is  between  my  heavenly  Father  and  myself ;  and  I  shall 
presently  lay  down  my  life  for  them.  Yet  not  for  those  of  Israel  alone. 
I  have  other  sheep,  of  other  lands,  and  them  also  I  must  lead  into  the  one 
fold,  that  there  may  be  but  one  flock,  under  me,  the  one  Shepherd. 

"But  this  triumphal  issue  can  be  reached  only  by  my  death  and  resur- 
rection; yet  I  rejoice  to  die  thus  for  the  sheep,  since  the  love  of  my 
heavenly  Father  rests  on  me,  because  I  give  myself  for  them.  I  die  freely, 
of  my  own  choice,  a  Avilling  self-sacrifice.  No  one  takes  my  life  from  me, 
but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself.  I  am  sent  forth  by  my  Father,  as  the  Mes- 
siah, and,  as  such,  lay  down  my  life  and  take  it  again,  not  to  carry  out  any 
purpose  of  my  own,  but  to  complete  the  great  jolan  of  salvation  God  has 
designed.  It  is  in  obedience  to  His  Divine  command  I  thus  freely  give 
myself  up  to  death,  and  it  is  to  complete  the  gracious  i:)lan  of  mercy 
tOAvards  the  flock  which  my  death  will  redeem,  that  I  shall  rise  again  from 
the  grave  as  their  Great  Shepherd,  to  guide  them  to  heaven." 


A  WANDERIXG   LIFE.  557 

Had  tlie  bigoted  crowd  known  the  full  significance  of  some  of  these 
words,  they  would  have  risen  against  Jesus  once  more ;  for  the  future  ad- 
mission of  the  heathen  into  the  New  Kingdom  of  God  was  more  distinctly'- 
intimated  than  ever  before.  As  the  end  of  His  work  drew  nearer,  the 
narrow  j^rejudices  even  of  the  Twelve  were  ever  more  constantly  kept  in 
view,  and  the  thought  that  the  kingdom  He  was  founding  must  embrace 
all  nations,  daily  enforced. 

But  neither  this  wide  catholicity,  which  a  Jew  would  have  held  as 
treason  to  his  nation,  nor  the  mysterious  allusions  to  His  own  futui'e,  were 
rightly  understood.  The  old  slander  that  "  He  had  a  devil,  and  was  mad 
in  consequence,  and  not  worthy  to  be  listened  to,"  rose  from  the  lips  of 
some,  and  the  best  that  even  the  most  liberal  among  the  crowd  co^ild  say 
w^as  the  negative  praise — "  These  are  not  the  words  of  one  who  is  pos- 
sessed." Besides,  though  a  devil  might,  perhaps,  work  some  miracles 
through  man  as  its  instrument,  it  was  impossible  to  believe  that  it  either 
would  or  could  work  one  so  beneficent  and  stuiDcndous  as  the  opening  of. 
the  eyes  of  one  who  had  been  born  blind. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

A  WANDEUING    LIFE. 

IT  was  now  near  the  end  of  Chislev,  "the  cold  month,"  equivalent  to 
part  of  our  November  and  December.  The  twenty-fifth  of  the  month, 
which,  according  to  Wieseler,  fell,  this  year,  on  the  20th  December,  was, 
with  the  next  seven  days,  a  time  of  universal  rejoicing ;  for  the  Dedication 
Festival,  in  commemoration  of  the  renewal  of  the  Temple  worship,  after 
its  suspension  under  Antiochus  Epiphanes,  was  held  through  the  week. 

Jesus,  ever  pleased  to  mingle  in  innocent  joys,  and  glad  to  seize  the 
opportunity  for  proclaiming  the  New  Kingdom,  which  the  gatherings  of 
the  season  afforded,  once  more  returned  to  Jerusalem  to  attend  it.  He 
had  been  in  the  neighbourhood  since  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  nearly  three 
months  before,  and  this  visit  would  be  the  last,  till  His  final  entry,  to  die. 

The  weather  had  been  wet  and  rough,  so  that  He  was  fain  to  avail  Him- 
self, like  the  crowds,  of  the  shelter  of  the  arcade  running  along  the  east 
side  of  the  Temple  enclosure,  known  as  Solomon's  Porch,  from  the  frag- 
ment of  the  first  Temple,  left  standing  by  Nebuchadnezzar. 

The  raiu  drove  the  peojole  from  the  open  courts,  and  Jesus,  like  others, 
was  in  the  porch,  apparently  without  His  disciples.  The  time  was  fitted 
to  wake  the  old  temptation  of  ambition,  had  it  had  any  charms.  How  easily 
might  He  eclipse  the  hero  of  all  this  rejoicing,  and  by  His  supernatural 
power  achieve  victories,  compared  with  which  those  of  Judas  Maccabteus 
would  be  nothing  !     But  His  aims  were  far  nobler. 

Such  secret  thoughts  may  have  risen  among  the  Pharisaic  party,  them- 
selves, respecting  Him.  Be  this  as  it  may,  they  now  suddenly  came  and 
began  to  ask  Him  if  He  would  not,  at  last,  relieve  their  minds  by  some 
direct  and  express  declaration  whether  He  were  the  Messiah  or  not.  It 
may  be,  He  could  read  in  their  looks  that  He  needed  only  to  speak  a  woj-d 


558  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

to  have  their  support,  and  He  knew  that  both  they  and  the  nation,  at  such 
a  time,  were  ready  to  flame  into  universal  enthusiasm  for  any  chief  who 
would  undertake  to  lead  them  against  Rome.  But  earthly  ambition  had 
no  attractions  for  His  pure  spirit. 

"  We  have  waited  long  and  anxiously,"  said  they,  "  for  some  decisive 
word.     If  Thou  art  the  Messiah,  tell  us  openly." 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  answered  Jesus,  "  both  by  the  witness  of  the 
miracles  I  have  done  in  my  Father's  name,  and  in  words  ;  but  you  havo 
not  believed  me,  because,  as  I  said  not  long  ago,  you  are  nob  my  disciples, 
or,  as  I  love  to  call  them,  my  sheep.  If  you  had  been,  you  would  have  be- 
lieved in  me.  You  may,  yourselves,  see  that  you  are  not  of  my  flock,  for 
those  who  are  so  listen  to  my  voice,  and  I  know  them,  and  they  follow  me, 
as  sheej)  know  and  listen  to  the  voice  of  their  shepherd,  and  are  known 
by  him,  and  follow  him.  ZSTothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  close  and  abiding 
than  my  relations  to  them,  for  I  lead  them  not  to  mere  earthly  good,  but 
give  them  eternal  life,  and  am  their  shepherd  hereafter  as  well  as  here; 
taking  care  that  they  shall  never  perish,  and  that  no  one,  even  beyond 
death,  shall  snatch  them  out  of  my  hand.  Moreover,  being  in  my  hand, 
they  are,  in  reality,  in  that  of  my  Father,  for  He  is  ever  with  me,  and 
woi'ks  by  me.  He  gave  them  to  me  at  first,  and  He  still  guards  them,  nor 
can  any  one  snatch  them  from  His  hands,  for  He  is  greater  than  all  the 
powers  of  earth  and  hell.  "Wonder  not  that  I  speak  of  their  being  both  in 
my  Father's  hands  and  in  mine,  for  I  and  the  Father  are  One." 

The  excitable,  fanatical  crowd  had  listened  patiently  till  the  last  words, 
which  seemed  the  most  audacious  blasphemy— a  claim  of  essential  oneness 
with  the  Almighty.  Scattering  themselves  in  a  moment  once  more  in 
search  of  stones,  with  which  to  kill  Him  for  what  they  deemed  His  crime, 
they  presently  gathered  round  Him  again  Avith  them,  to  fell  Him  to  the 
earth.  But  Jesus  remained  undismayed.  "  I  have  done  many  great  works 
of  mercy,"  said  He,  calmly,  "  which  show  that  the  Father  is  with  me,  be- 
cause they  could  only  come  from  the  presence  of  His  power.  They  arc 
enough  to  show  you  that  He  thinks  me  no  blasphemer.  For  which  of 
these  mighty  works  will  you  stone  me  ?  " 

"  We  would  not  think  of  stoning  Thee  for  a  good  work,"  answered  the 
crowd ;  "  it  is  for  your  blasphemy ;  that  you,  a  man,  should  make  yourself 
God." 

'■'  Is  it  not  written  in  your  Law,"  rejalied  Jesus,  "  of  the  rulers  of  Israel, 
the  representatives  and  earthly  embodiments  of  the  majesty  of  Jehovah, 
your  invisible  King,  '  I  said,  Ye  are  gods  ?'  If  God  Himself  called  them 
gods,  to  whom  this  utterance  of  His  came— and  you  cannot  deny  the 
authority  of  Scripture — how  can  you  say  of  me, — whom  the  Father  has 
consecrated  to  a  far  higher  office  than  ruler,  or  even  prophet,  to  that  of 
Messiah ;  and  whom  He  has  not  only  tlius  set  apart  to  this  great  office, 
but  sent  into  the  world  clothed  with  the  mighty  powers  I  have  shown,  and 
the  fulness  of  grace  and  truth  you  now  see  in  me,— that  I  blaspheme, 
because  I  have  said  I  am  God's  Son  ?  Your  unbelief  in  me,  which  is  the 
ground  of  the  charge,  would  have  some  excuse  if  I  did  not  perform  such 
works  as  prove  me  to   have  been  «nt  by  my  Father.     But  if  I  do  such 


A  WANDEBING  LIFE.  559 

works,  then  believe  them,  if  you  will  not  believe  me ;  tliat  you  may  thus 
learn  and  know  that  what  I  have  said  is  true,  that  the  Father  is  in  me, 
and  I  in  the  Father." 

They  had  waited  for  a  retractation,  but  had  heard  a  defence.  Instantly, 
hands  were  thrust  out  on  every  side,  to  lay  hold  on  Him,  and  lead  Him 
outside  the  Temple,  to  stone  Him ;  but  He  shrank  back  into  the  crowd, 
and  passing  through  it,  escaped. 

Jerusalem  and  Judea  were  evidently  closed  against  Him,  as  Galilee  had 
been  for  some  time  past.  There  seemed  only  one  district  in  any  measure 
safe — the  half-heathen  territory  of  Perea,  across  the  Jordan.  The  ecclesi- 
astical authorities  and  the  people  at  large,  instead  of  accepting  Him,  and 
the  spiritual  salvation  He  offered,  had  become  steadily  more  obdurate  and 
hostile.  It  was  necessary  at  last  to  give  up  all  attempts  to  win  them,  and 
to  retire,  for  the  short  time  that  yet  remained  to  Him,  to  this  safer  district. 
He  chose  the  part  of  it  in  which  John  had  begun  his  ministrations;  per- 
haps in  hopes  of  a  more  hopeful  soil,  from  the  cherished  remembrance  of 
His  predecessor, — perhaps  as  a  spot  sacred  to  holy  associations  of  His 
own. 

Here,  with  His  wonted  earnestness.  He  once  more  proclaimed  the  New 
Kingdom,  and  was  cheered  by  a  last  flicker  of  success ;  for  crowds  once 
more  resorted  to  Him,  many  of  whom  became  His  disciples.  "  John,"  said 
they,  "  did  no  miracles,  great  though  he  was,  Init  his  testimony  to  this 
Man,  who  was  to  come  after  him,  that  He  was  greater  than  himself,  is 
true ;  for  not  only  does  He  teach  us  the  words  of  truth,  He  confirms  them 
by  mighty  wonders,  which  show  Him  to  be  the  Messiah."  Jesus  was 
reaping,  as  Bengel  says,  the  posthumous  fruit  of  the  Baptist's  work. 

The  quiet  retreat  of  Perea  was,  however,  soon  to  be  broken.  The  family 
of  Bethany,  to  whom  Jesus  owed  so  many  happy  hours,  had  been  in  health 
when  He  left,  but  a  message  suddenly  reached  Him  from  the  two  sisters, 
Mary  and  Martha,  the  very  simplicity  of  which  still  touches  the  heart : 
'*  Lord,  he  whom  Thou  lovest,  our  brother  Lazarus,  is  sick."  His  love, 
they  felt,  would  need  nothing  more.  The  messengers  doubtless  expected 
that  He  would  have  returned  with  them  at  once ;  but  He  saw  things  in  a 
higher  light,  and  moved  on  a  different  spiritual  plane.  Instead  of  going 
with  them  therefore.  He  dismissed  them,  with  the  intimation  that  the 
sickness  would  not  really  end  in  death,  but  would  be  overruled  by  God 
to  His  own  glory,  by  disclosing  that  of  His  Son — Jesus  Himself.  It  was 
from  no  indifference  that  He  thus  delayed,  though  it  left  His  friends  to 
bitter  disappointment,  and  Himself  to  the  suspicion  of  neglect.  "  Ho 
loved  Martha  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus,"  says  John.  But  still  He 
delayed,  in  obedience  to  a  higher  counsel  than  that  of  man. 

The  messengers  had  taken  a  day  to  come,  and  it  would  take  another  for 
Jesus  to  go  to  Bethany ;  but  though  He  knew  this.  He  remained  two  days 
more  in  the  place  where  the  sad  news  had  reached  Him.  On  the  third 
day,  however.  He  surprised  His  disciples,  who  had  fancied  that  He 
hesitAted  from  fear  of  His  enemies,  by  telling  them  that  He  was  about  to 
return  to  Judea. 

"  The  Rabbis  and  priests  were  seeking  only  the  other  day  to  stone  Thee, 


5G0  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Rabbi,"  said  tliey  iu  amazement;  "and  art  Thou  really  going  back  into 
the  very  jaws  of  danger  ?  " 

"  The  time  allotted  me  by  God  for  my  work,"  replied  Jesus,  "  is  not  yet 
done,  and  so  long  as  it  lasts  no  one  can  harm  me.  The  time  a])pointed 
for  a  man  is  like  the  hours  of  light  given  to  a  ti-aveller  for  his  journey. 
There  is  no  fear  of  his  stumbling  in  the  day,  because  he  sees  the  sun ;  but 
as  he  stumbles  when  it  has  set,  so  man,  though  he  walk  safely  till  the 
appointed  time  ends,  can  do  so  no  longer  when  it  is  over.  Till  mine  is 
over,  I  am  safe." 

Pausing  a  few  minutes.  He  went  on  to  tell  them  why  He  was  going  to 
Bethany,  in  spite  of  all  danger.  "  Our  friend  Lazarus,"  said  He,  "  has 
fallen  asleep,  but  I  go  that  I  may  awake  him  out  of  sleep."  Unwilling  to 
expose  themselves  or  their  Master  to  unnecessary  i^eril,  their  wishes  read 
in  these  words  a  cause  for  remaining  where  they  were.  "  To  sleep  is  good 
for  the  sick,"  said  they,  thinking  He  spoke  of  natural  sleep.  But  their 
hopes  were  speedily  dashed.  "  Lazarus,"  said  He,  now  openly,  "  is  dead, 
and  I  am  glad  for  your  sakes,  that  I  was  not  there  to  heal  him  from  mere 
sickness.  The  far  greater  proof  of  my  Divine  glory,  which  you  will  see 
in  my  raising  him  from  the  grave,  would  not  have  been  given,  and  thus 
you  would  have  lost  the  aid  to  still  firmer  trust  in  me,  which  is  so  necessary 
now  I  am  so  soon  to  leave  you." 

Such  words  might  have  at  once  quieted  their  fears  and  kindled  their 
zeal ;  but  they  still  saw  in  His  return  to  Judea  only  a  journey  to  His  own 
death.  Thomas  the  Twin  at  last  broke  silence  :  "  It  becomes  us  to  do  all 
that  our  Master  commands,  even  when  He  asks  us  to  risk  our  lives.  Let 
us  go  with  Him,  that  we  may  show  our  love  and  fidelity  by  dying  with 
Him."     A  true-hearted  but  sad  man  ! 

It  is  clear  that  Jesus  feared  violence,  for  as  He  api^roached  Bethany, 
He  lingered  outside  the  village,  as  if  to  learn  liow^  matters  stood,  before 
venturing  farther.  Nor  was  it  without  cause,  for  notwithstanding  their 
friendship  with  Jesus,  the  family  of  Lazarus,  moving  in  good  society  as 
they  did,  had  many  friends  and  connections  amongst  those  hostile  to  Himi 
and  a  number  of  these  had  come  to  pay  the  customary  visit  of  condolence 
to  the  two  sisters. 

The  four  days  since  the  death  had  been  sad  ones  in  the  little  household. 
They  had  fasted  all  the  day  after  it,  and  had  since  eaten  nothing  but  an 
occasional  egg,  or  some  lentils  ;  for  that  was  the  only  food  allowed 
mourners  for  the  first  seven  days.  The  corpse,  which  had  had  a  lamp 
burning  beside  it  from  the  moment  of  death,  as  a  symbol  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  had  been  borne  to  the  grave  after  a  few  hours,  an  egg 
had  been  broken  as  a  symbol  of  mortality,  and  the  cottage  left  to  the  two 
survivors.  The  funeral  procession  had  been  sad  enough,  with  its  dirge 
flutes,  and  hired  wraling  women ;  the  two  sisters  and  their  relations  fol- 
lowing, and  then  the  neighbours  and  friends ;  for  it  was  held  a  religious 
duty  in  all  who  could,  to  attend  a  corpse  to  the  grave.  At  the  grave's 
mouth,  the  men  had  chanted  the  sublime  nineteenth  Psalm  in  a  slow 
circuit  of  seven  times  round  the  bier,  on  which  lay  the  dead  wrapped  in 
white   linen.      The   long   procession,   headed  by  the  women   veiled,   had 


A   WANDERING   LIFE.  561 

stopped  thrice  on  the  way  to  the  grave,  while  the  leader  spoke  words  of 
comfort  to  the  bereaved  ones,  and  tender  exhortations  to  passers  by, — 
"  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye,  ye  dear  ones  !  Lift  up  your  souls,  lift  up  your 
souls !  Come  to  me,  all  ye  who  are  of  sad  and  troubled  heart,  and  take 
part  in  the  sorrow  of  your  neighbours." 

Once  more  in  their  desolate  home,  the  sisters,  with  veiled  heads,  even 
in  their  own  chamber,  and  with  unsandalled  feet,  sat  down  on  the  earth, 
in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of  at  least  ten  friends  or  professional  mourners 
with  rent  clothes  and  dust  on  their  heads.  None  spoke  till  the  bereaved 
ones  had  done  so,  but  every  sentence  of  theirs  was  followed  by  some  word 
of  s^mijiathy  and  comfort,  and  by  the  wails  of  the  mourners.  And  thus 
it  would  be  for  seven  days,  and  had  been  for  four,  before  Jesus  arrived, 
for  many  friends  had  come  from  Jerusalem  to  comfort  the  two  sisters. 

"Word  was  presently  brought  to  the  house,  that  Jesus  had  come,  and 
forthwith,  Martha,  true  to  her  character  as  the  more  active  of  the  two 
sisters,  rose  fi'om  the  ground,  where  she  and  Mary  had  been  sitting,  and 
went  out,  wrapped  in  her  mourning  dress  and  deeply  veiled,  to  go  to  Him ; 
but  Mary  remained  where  she  was,  for  she  had  not  heard  the  good  news. 

"  Lord,"  said  Martha,  when  she  saw  Him,  "  if  Thou  hadst  been  here, 
my  brother  would  not  have  died,"  as  if  she  thought,  "  Why  did  He  then 
delay  ?  "  But  as  she  looked  at  Him  her  faith  revived,  and  she  added, 
"  Yet  though  he  be  dead,  I  know  that  God  will  grant  you  your  utmost 
prayer,  even  if  it  be  to  receive  back  Lazarus  from  the  dead." 

"  Your  brother  will  rise  again,"  replied  Jesus,  in  designedly  ambiguous 
words,  to  lead  Martha's  faith  from  mere  personal  interest  to  higher 
thoughts.  Martha  understood  Him  only  of  the  resurrection  at  the  last 
day,  in  which  she  felt  assured  Lazarus  would  have  part,  and  had  hoped 
for  something  so  much  nearer  and  greater,  that  so  vague  an  answer  disap- 
pointed her.  She  could  only  find  words  to  say,  with  sad  resignation,  that 
"she  knew  that  he  would  rise,"  as  Jesus  had  seemed  to  say,  "at  the  last 
day." 

It  was  well  she  answered  thus,  for  Jesus  presently  used  her  words  to 
turn  her  from  mere  personal  interests  to  Himself,  and  in  doing  so,  uttered 
that  wondrous  sentence  which  has  carried  hope  and  triumph  to  millions 
of  the  dying  and  the  bereaved,  and  will  do  so  while  time  and  mortality 
endui'e.  "I" — and  no  other  but  I — "am  the  EesiTrrection  and  the  Life. 
He  that  believeth  on  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live,  and  avIio- 
soever  liveth  and  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die  " — words  which  we  may 
paraphrase  thus :  "  I  am  He  whose  is  tbe  power  to  raise  from  the  dead, 
and  make  alive  for  evermore.  He  that  believeth  in  me,  though  his  body 
die,  will  yet  continue  to  live  without  break  or  interruption ;  for,  till  the 
resurrection,  he  will  be  in  paradise,  and  after  it,  and  by  its  means,  he  will 
enter  on  the  fulness  of  life  eternal.  And  every  one  who  is  still  alive,  and 
believes  in  me,  will  never  die,  in  any  true  sense ;  for  the  death  of  the 
body  is  not  really  death,  but  the  open  gate  into  life  eternal.  Believest 
thou  this  ?  " 

"  Yea,  Lord,"  sobbed  out  the  stricken  heart.  "  I  believe  that  Thou  art 
the  King-Messiah,  the  Son  of  God,  who  was  to  come  into  the  world;  "  and 

0  0 


662  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

having  made  this  great  confession,  she  went  away  to  call  her  sister 
secretly,  for  fear  of  those  hostile  to  Him  among  her  own  friends.  "  Mary," 
whispered  she,  "  the  Teacher  is  here,  and  calls  for  thee."  She  would  not 
mention  the  name,  for  caution. 

It  was  enough.  The  next  instant  Mary  was  on  the  road  to  Jesus,  who 
was  still  outside  the  village,  in  the  place  where  Martha  had  met  Him. 
The  way  to  the  grave  was  in  that  direction,  and  the  friends,  concluding 
she  had  gone  thither  to  weep,  kindly  rose  and  followed  her,  that  she  might 
not  be  left  to  her  lonely  grief.  Jesus  could  no  longer  remain  hidden,  hut 
the  presence  of  hostile  witnesses  confirmed  the  more  strikingly  the  great 
miracle  that  was  to  follow. 

Falling  in  tears  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  cmhraciug  them,  Mary's  full 
heart  overflowed  in  the  same  lament  as  her  sister's,  for  they  had  often 
spoken  the  same  words  to  each  other :  "  Lord,  if  Thou  hadst  been  here, 
my  brother  had  not  died."  The  presence  of  her  friends,  who  she  knew 
were  no  friends  of  His,  hindered  more.  It  was  a  moment  fitted  to  move 
even  a  strong  heart,  for  those  around,  with  true  Oriental  demonstrative- 
ness,  wept  and  lamented  aloud,  along  with  Mary.  But  the  sight  of  men 
who  were  filled  with  the  bitterest  enmity  to  Himself,  joining  in  lamenta- 
tions with  Mary,  His  true-hearted  friend — men  with  no  sympathy  for  the 
highest  goodness,  but  ready  to  chase  it,  in  His  person,  from  the  earth, 
because  it  condemned  their  cold  religious  hypocrisy  —  showing  natural 
tenderness  while  such  malignity  was  in  their  hearts,  roused  his  indigna- 
tion, so  that  he  visibly  shuddered  with  emotion,  and  had  to  restrain  Him- 
self by  an  earnest  effort.  Yet  the  cloud  of  righteous  anger  passed  off  in 
a  moment,  and  sorrow  for  His  friend,  and  for  the  grief  of  the  loved  one 
at  His  feet,  asserted  itself.  Silent  tears  trickled  down  His  cheeks,  for, 
though  He  was  the  Son  of  God,  He  was,  also,  no  less  truly  than  ourselves 
a  man  moved  by  the  sight  of  human  sorrow. 

The  group  of  mourners  were  variously  affected,  the  most  kindly  remark- 
ing how  dearly  He  must  have  loved  the  dead  man,  that  He  should  now 
weep  so  at  his  death.  But  the  more  malicious  and  hardened  only  saw  in 
His  tears  a  welcome  proof  of  His  helplessness,  for  had  it  been  otherwise, 
could  He  not  as  well  have  cured  Lazarus  of  his  illness  as  give  sight  to  the 
blind  ?  The  healing  of  the  blind  man  must  surely  have  been  a  cheat,  for 
certainly  He  would  have  come  to  Bethany  sooner,  had  He  been  able  to  do 
anything  for  His  sick  friend.  The  muttered  words  reached  the  ear  of 
Jesus,  and  roused  anew  His  indignation ;  and  thus,  with  mingled  anger 
and  sorrow.  He  reached  the  grave. 

Like  most  tombs  in  the  limestone  districts  of  Palestine,  it  was  a  recess 
cut  in  the  side  of  a  natural  cave,  and  closed  by  a  huge  stone  fitted  into  a 
groove. 

In  this  gloomy  niche  lay  Lazarus,  swathed  from  head  to  foot  in  loose 
linen  wrappings,  and  now  four  days  dead. 

"Take  away  the  stone,"  said  Jesus. 

But  Martha,  with  her  plain  matter-of-fact  nature,  shrank  at  the  words, 
for  she  thought  of  the  awful  spectacle  of  her  Ijrother,  now  hastening  to 
corruption.     Christ's  words  about  the  resurrection  had  taken  away  any 


A  WANDERING  LIFE.  563 

hope  of  seeing  Lazarus  alive  again  till  the  great  day,  and  she  would  rather 
the  sacred  remains  were  left  undisturbed.  A  gentle  reproof  from  Jesus 
was,  however,  enough  to  let  her  leave  Him  to  His  will.  "  Did  not  I  send 
word  to  thee  by  thy  messenger,  that  if  thou  wouldst  only  believe  thou 
shouldst  see  the  glory  of  God  ?  "     So  they  took  away  the  stone. 

Jesus  had  already,  in  the  stillness  of  His  own  breast,  communed  with 
the  Father,  and  knew,  in  Himself,  that  His  prayer  that  Lazarus  might  be 
restored  to  life  had  been  heard.  Lifting  u])  His  eyes  to  heaven.  He  now 
uttered  His  thanks  that  it  had  been -so.  "  Father,  I  thank  Thee  that  Thou 
hast  heard  me — yet  I  knew  that  Thou  hearcst  me  always,  for  Thy  will  is 
ever  mine,  and  mine  is  ever  Thine.  But  I  thank  Thee  thus,  for  the  sake  of 
those  who  stand  around,  that  they  may  be  convinced  that  what  I  do  is 
done  in  Thy  power,  and  that  I  am  assuredly  sent  forth  from  Thee." 

What  followed  is  best  given  in  the  words  of  St.  John.  "  And  when  He 
had  thus  spoken,  He  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  Lazarus,  come  foktii.  And 
he  that  was  dead  came  forth,  Ijound  hand  and  foot  with  grave-clothes ; 
and  his  face  had  been  bound  about  with  a  napkin  (that  had  tied  up  his 
jaw  four  days  before,  when  it  fell,  in  death).  Jesus  saith  unto  them, 
'  Loose  him,  and  let  him  go  (home) : ' "  and  he  who  had  been  dead,  noAV 
freed  from  his  grave-clothes,  himself  returned,  in  the  fulness  of  youthful 
strength  and  health,  to  the  cottage  from  which  he  had  been  carried  forth 
on  a  bier  four  days  before. 

Of  the  after-history  of  Lazarus,  with  one  momentary  exception,  we  know 
nothing,  for  none  of  the  numerous  traditions  and  legends  respecting  him 
are  reliable.  He  is  said  to  have  been  thirty  years  old  when  he  was  raised 
from  the  dead,  and  to  have  lived  for  thirty  years  after ;  to  have  been  of 
royal  descent ;  to  have  owned  a  whole  quarter  of  Jerusalem,  and  to  have 
been,  by  profession,  a  soldier.  His  bones  were  said  to  have  been  found  in 
the  year  a.d.  890,  with  those  of  Mary  Magdalene,  in  the  island  of  Cyprus ! 
and  the  remains  thus  honoured  were  carried  to  Constantinople.  Other 
traditions  take  him  to  ]\Iarscilles,  and  speak  of  him  as  the  first  Christian 
Bishop  of  that  city.  But  the  very  extravagance  of  these  legends  shows 
their  worthlessness  as  history. 

The  results  of  the  miracle  were  momentous  to  Jesus  Himself.  Many  of 
the  party  of  the  Rabbis  who  had  come  to  comfort  the  sisters,  found  them- 
selves constrained  to  believe  in  one  whose  claims  were  attested  by  an  act 
so  transcendent  and  so  indisputable.  But  some  justified  all  that  Jesus 
had  said  of  their  malignity,  ))y  not  onlj-  shutting  their  eyes  to  what  they 
were  determined  not  to  admit,  but  by  plajdng  the  informer  to  the  ecclesias- 
tical authorities. 

The  great  ecclesiastical  court  of  the  nation,  known  in  the  Talmud  as  the 
"  Sanhedrim,"  had  been  in  abeyance  for  many  years,  for  there  is  no  trace 
of  it  during  the  whole  period  of  the  Herods,  or  of  the  Romans.  The  name, 
indeed,  occurs  in  the  New  Testament,  but  it  is  simply  as  the  Greek  Avord 
for  "an  assembly,"  which  was  adopted  by  the  Rabbis  at  a  later  period. 
Herod  had  broken  up  the  great  Rabbinical  council,  and,  henceforth,  the 
only  authorities  recognised  as  the  fountains  of  Jewish  Law  were  the 
schools  of  such  Rabbis  as  Hillel  aud  Shammai.     There  was  no  such  thing 


564  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

as  a  legal  Jewish  court  which  had  power  to  enforce  its  dccisious.  The 
authority  gi*anted  to  the  leading  schools  was  only  a  tribute  of  confidence 
in  their  soundness  and  W'isdom.  Hence,  in  the  days  of  Christ,  there  was- 
no  legal  Jewish  court  in  existence,  and  the  criminal  processes  mentioned 
in  connection  with  Him,  were  only  acts  of  assemblies  which  the  high 
priest  for  the  time,  the  only  representative  of  the  old  Theocracy  recognised 
by  the  supreme  Eoman  authority,  called  together  in  angry  haste,  inform- 
ally, and  which  acted  by  no  judicial  rules  of  procedure. 

Such  an  illegal  gathering  was  summoned  by  the  Sadducean  chief  priests 
and  the  leading  Pharisaic  Eabbis,  to  discuss  what  should  be  done  respect- 
ing Jesus,  now  that  the  incontestable  fact  of  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus 
had  crowned  all  his  preceding  miracles.  Having  no  idea  of  a  Messiah 
apart  from  political  revolution  to  be  inaugurated  by  Him,  it  seemed  likely 
that,  if  something  were  not  done  to  put  Him  out  of  the  way,  the  excite- 
ment of  the  people,  through  His  miracles,  Avould  become  irresistible,  and 
lead  to  a  national  rising,  fiercer  even  than  that  of  Judas  the  Galiltean.  To 
the  popular  party,  represented  by  the  Pharisees  present,  this  would  be  no 
imdesirable  issue ;  but  the  courtly  Sadducees  shrank  from  any  disturb- 
ance, fearing  that,  in  the  end,  the  Eomans  w^ould  crush  it  w^ith  their 
legions,  and,  as  a  punishment,  abolish  the  hierarchical  constitution,  which 
gave  them  their  wealth  and  position ;  and,  with  it,  the  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  laws  which  flattered  the  nation  with  an  illusory  independence. 

The  Temple,  and  all  the  far-reaching  vested  interests  bound  up  with  it, 
had  long  existed  only  on  sufferance,  and  would  at  once  perish  in  the  storm 
of  a  national  insurrection ;  and  the  nation,  stripped  of  its  local  laws,  so 
vital  to  a  theocracy,  would  be  secularized  into  a  part  of  Rome,  with  the 
hated  imperial  heathen  law,  instead  of  the  laws  of  God  and  the  Rabbis. 

The  acting  high  priest  at  this  time  was  Joseph  Caiaphas.  He  had  been 
appointed  by  the  procurator,  Yalerius  Gratus,  shortly  before  that  governor 
left  the  province,  in  A.D.  25,  when  Jesus  was  about  twenty  years  of  age, 
and  he  continiied  to  hold  his  great  office  till  the  year  a.d.  36,  when  he  was 
removed  by  the  proconsul  Vitellius,  shortly  after  the  recall  of  Pilate.  He 
was,  in  every  w^ay,  a  creature  of  the  Romans,  and,  as  such,  received  little 
respect  from  the  nation,  though  his  dignity  secured  him  official  authorit3^ 

Rising  in  the  meeting,  which  had  been  hitherto  very  divided  and  irre- 
solute as  to  the  wisest  course  to  be  taken,  Caiaphas  begged  to  give  his 
opinion :  ' 

"  You  know  nothing  at  all,"  said  he,  "  else  you  would  not  have  so  much 
questioning  and  discussing.  You  have  not  considered  that  it  is  expedient 
for  you,  in  view  of  your  interests  as  priests  and  Rabbis,  that  this  one  man 
should  die,  to  save  Israel  from  the  certain  destruction  that  threatens  it,  if 
you  let  Him  stir  iiji  a  Messianic  revolt ;  for,  in  that  case,  the  whole  nation 
must  jierish.  The  Romans  will  come  Avith  their  legions  and  close  our 
Temple,  annul  our  independence  by  abolishing  our  laws,  and  waste  us 
with  fire  and  sword." 

There  could  ])e  no  misconception  of  words  so  plain.  They  w^cre  a  dis- 
tinct advice  to  those  present  to  put  Jesus  to  death,  as  the  one  way  to  save 
themselves,  and  maintain  things  as  they  were  in  Church  and  State.    Words 


A   WANDERING   LIFE.  565 

SO  momentous,  for  they  decided  the  fate  of  Jesus,  might  well  seem  to  St. 
John  no  mere  human  utterance,  but  the  involuntary  expression,  through 
unworthy  lips,  of  the  near  approach  of  the  supreme  act  in  the  Divine  plan 
of  mercy  to  mankind. 

From  that  day  the  death  of  Jesus  was  only  a  question  of  time  and 
opportunity.  Henceforth,  the  Jewish  primate  and  his  suffragans  kept 
steadily  in  view— in  concert  with  their  hereditary  and  deadly  enemies,  the 
Rabbis — tlio  arrest  of  Jesus,  and  His  subsequent  deatli.  Their  officers,  or 
any  one  hostile  to  Him,  might  apprehend  Him  at  any  moment.  It  was 
clearly  no  longer  possible  for  Him  to  show  Himself  openly,  and  He,  there- 
fore, retired  with  His  disciples  to  a  city  called  Eijlu-aim,  now  difficult  of 
identification.  It  seems  to  have  been  in  the  wild  uncultivated  hill-country, 
north-east  of  Jerusalem,  between  the  central  towns  and  the  Jordan  valley. 
A  village  now  known  as  El  Taiyibeh,  on  a  conical  hill,  commanding  a  view 
of  the  whole  eastern  slope  of  the  country,  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  and 
the  Dead  Sea,  though  only  sixteen  miles  from  Jerusalem,  has  been  thought 
Ijy  Dr.  Eobinson  the  site.  It  answers  at  least  in  its  secluded  privacy,  and 
the  ready  access  it  offers  to  the  still  wilder  regions  beyond. 

Only  a  few  weeks  remained  of  our  Saviour's  life,  and  these  He  had  to 
spend  as  a  fugitive,  to  whom  no  place  was  safe.  He  had,  however,  the  joy 
of  seeing  the  old  enthusiasm  of  the  multitudes  revived,  for  Matthew  and 
Mark  both  speak  of  the  great  numbers  who  followed  Him  in  this  clos- 
ing period,  attracted,  doubtless,  more  by  the  fame  of  His  past  miracles, 
and  by  continuous  displays  of  the  same  supernatural  power  towards  the 
diseased  of  every  kind,  than  by  His  teaching.  Yet  there  must  have  been 
not  a  few  "  sheep  "  in  such  vast  gatherings.  The  clouds  were  parting  as 
the  day  closed,  and  were  being  lit  with  sunset  colours,  before  the  night 
darkened  all. 

From  Ephraim  He  soon  passed  over  the  Jordan,  to  what,  for  the  moment 
seemed  a  safer  retreat.  The  lesser  excommunication,  which  had  driv^eu 
Him  from  the  synagogues  of  Galilee  and  Judea,  had  perhajis  expired,  or 
the  bann  may  not  have  been  effective  in  Perea ;  for  He  once  more  had 
access  to  these  assemblies  on  the  Sabbaths,  and  was  allowed,  as  before, 
to  teach  the  people,  who  were  thus  most  easily  reached.  It  was  impossible, 
however,  that  He  could  long  avoid  collision  with  some  or  other  of  the 
countless  Eabbinical  laws  which  fettered  every  movement  of  free  spiritual 
life,  and,  as  in  the  past,  the  fanatical  Sabbath  laws  offered  the  first  occa- 
sions of  trouble.     Two  instances  ai-e  recorded  by  St.  Luke. 

As  He  was  teaching  on  a  Sabbath  in  the  synagogue  of  one  of  the  out- 
lying towns  of  Perea — half  Jewish,  half  heathen— He  noticed  in  the 
audience,  behind  the  lattice  which  separated  the  women  from  the  men,  a 
poor  creature  drawn  together  by  a  rheumatic  affection,  which  had  bowed 
her  frame  so  terribly  that  she  could  not  raise  herself  erect.  As  she 
painfully  struggled  into  her  place,  Jesus  saw  her,  and  doubtless  read,  in 
her  supplicating  looks,  and  in  the  very  fact  that  she  had  come  to  the 
House  of  God  in  spite  of  such  physical  infirmity,  an  evidence  that  she  was 
a  fit  subject  for  His  pitying  help.  Eising,  and  calling  across  the  congre- 
gation to  her,  the  welcome  words  fell  on  her  ears — ""Woman,  thou  art 


56G  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

loosed  from  thine  infirmity."  The  cure  was  instantaneous.  In  a  moment 
she  was  once  more  straight  and  whole,  after  eighteen  years  of  deformity, 
and  her  irrepressible  thanks  to  God  for  the  mercy  vouchsafed  her,  rang 
through  the  synagogue,  and  made  a  great  commotion. 

The  head  of  the  congregation,  however,  was  a  cold  Rabbinical  pedant. 
Intensely  professional,  he  could  see  nothing  but  an  irregularity.  It  was 
the  Sabbath  day,  and  the  Eabbis  had  decided  that  no  cure  was  lawful  on 
the  Sabbath  except  where  death  was  imminent.  "  Silence,"  cried  he,  in- 
dignantly, "  there  are  six  days  in  which  raen  ought  to  work ;  it  would  be 
much  more  becoming  if  this  person  were  to  remember  that ;  and  if  you, 
for  your  part,  want  to  be  healed  by  Him,  see  that  you  come  on  a  week- 
day, so  that  He  have  no  excuse  for  breaking  the  holy  Sabbath,  by  doing 
the  work  of  curing  you  on  it." 

Indignation  flashed  from  the  eyes  of  Jesus,  and  turning  to  the  speaker. 
He  denounced  his  heartless  formalism,  so  utterly  opposed  to  the  true 
religion  of  which  He  was  the  official  representative.  "  You,  and  the  whole 
class  who  think  with  you,  are  hypocritical  actors,"  said  He  ;  "  your  words 
prove  it,  for  they  are  contradicted  by  your  daily  conduct.  Do  you  not  on 
the  Sabbath  loose  j^our  asses,  or  your  oxen,  from  the  manger,  where  they 
are  tied,  and  lead  them  away  to  water  them  ?  And  if  so,  ought  not  this 
woman,  a  daughter  of  Abraham,  and,  as  such,  one  of  God's  own  people — 
who  is  of  unspeakably  greater  worth  than  any  ox  or  ass — to  be  loosed  to- 
day, though  it  he  the  Sabbath,  from  this  bond  with  which  Satan  has  chained 
her,  for  now,  eighteen  years  ?  " 

There  could  be  no  reply  to  such  a  vindication.  The  ruler  and  his  party 
were  silenced  and  put  to  shame  before  the  quick-witted  audience.  The 
worship  of  the  letter  had  received  another  deadly  blow. 

A  second  incident,  very  similar,  occurred  soon  after.  One  of  the  leading 
Pharisees  had  invited  Jesus  to  dine  with  him  on  the  Sabbath,  as  the  day 
specially  devoted  to  social  entertainments  by  the  Rabbis,— with  the  sinister 
design  of  w'atching  Him  and  reporting  to  those  in  authority.  A  number 
of  Rabbis  and  Pharisees  had  been  invited  to  meet  Him,  but  they  had  not 
yet  lain  down  to  their  meal,  when  a  man,  who  had  the  dropsy,  entered  the 
open  door  of  the  house  with  others,  -who  dropped  in,  with  Oriental  freedom, 
to  look  on  and  stand  about.  In  his  case,  no  doubt,  the  motive  of  his 
coming  was  that  he  might  attract  the  notice  of  Jesus.  He  was  afraid, 
however,  to  speak,  for  fear  of  those  present,  and  patiently  waited  to  see 
if  Jesus  would,  of  His  own  accord,  cure  him.  He  had  not  long  to  wait. 
Looking  at  him,  Jesus  turned  to  the  guests  with  the  question  He  had 
asked  before,  in  similar  circumstances:  "Is  it  laAvful  to  heal  on  the 
Sabbath,  or  is  it  not  P "  In  their  consciences  they  could  not  say  it  was 
not ;  but  few  men  have  the  courage  of  their  opinions  when  current  senti- 
ment runs  the  other  way,  so  they  said  nothing.  But  silence  Avas  a  virtual 
affirmative,  for,  if  it  were  wrong,  it  was  their  bounden  duty,  as  the  public 
guardians  of  religion,  to  say  so.  Passing  over,  thcfefore,  to  the  swollen 
and  wretched  being.  He  put  His  hand  on  him,  cured  him  at  once,  and  sent 
him  aw\ay.  Then,  turning  to  the  confused  and  baffled  company,  He  com- 
pleted their  discomfiture  by  an  appeal  similar  to  that  which  He  had  made 


A  WANDERING   LIFE.  567 

in  the  case  of  the  woman  healed  shortly  hefore.  "  Which  of  you,  let  me 
ask,  if  his  son,  or  even  only  his  ox,  had  fallen  into  a  pit,  •u-ould  not  im- 
mediately draw  him  out,  on  discovering  it — even  on  the  Sabbath  ?  "  No 
wonder  that  nothing  further  was  said  on  the  subject. 

The  couches  on  which  the  guests  reclined  at  meals  were  arranged  so  as 
to  form  three  sides  of  a  square,  the  fourth  being  left  open,  to  allow  the 
servants  to  bring  in  the  dishes.  The  right-hand  couch  was  reckoned  the 
highest,  and  the  others,  the  middle  and  the  lowest,  respectively,  the  places 
on  each  couch  being  distiuguished  in  the  same  way,  from  the  fact  that  the 
guest  who  reclined  with  his  head,  as  it  were,  in  the  bosom  of  hini  behind, 
seemed  to  be  the  lower  of  the  two.  The  "  highest  place  "  on  the  highest 
couch,  was,  thus,  the  "  chief  place  "  ;  and  human  nature,  the  same  in  all 
ages,  inevitably  made  it  be  eagerly  co\eted,  while,  as  precedence  was 
marked  by  nearness  to  it,  there  was  an  almost  equal  anxiety  to  get  as  close 
to  it  as  possible.  With  the  vanity  and  self-righteousness  of  a  moribund 
caste,  there  was  no  little  scheming  among  the  Rabbis  for  the  best  position, 
and  much  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  host  not  to  give  offence  ;  for  to  jilace 
a  Rabbi  below  any  one  not  a  Eabbi,  or  below  a  fcllow-Eabbi  of  lower  stand- 
ing, or  younger,  was  an  unpai'donable  affront,  and  a  discredit  to  religion 
itself.  The  intolerable  pride  that  had  made  one  of  their  order,  in  the  days  \ 
of  Alexander  Janna3us,  seat  himself  betAveen  Alexander  and  his  queen,  on  ! 
the  ground  that  '"  wisdom  "  made  its  scholars  sit  among  princes,  remained 
unchanged.  Such  petty  ambition,  so  unworthy  in  public  teachers  of  morals 
and  religion,  and  so  entirely  in  contrast  with  His  own  instructions  to  His 
disciples,  to  seek  no  distinction  but  that  of  the  deepest  humility,  did  not  fail 
to  strike  the  Geeat  Guest,  who  had  calmly  taken  the  place  assigned  Him. 
Addressing  the  company,  He  told  them, "  You  are  wi'ong  in  revealing  your 
wishes,  and  obtruding  your  self-assertion  in  such  a  way.  Let  me  counsel 
you  how  to  act.  If  invited  to  a  marriage  feast,  never  take  the  chief  place 
on  the  couches,  lest  some  one  of  higher  standing  for  learning  or  piety  come, 
and  your  host  ask  j'ou  to  go  down  to  a  lower  place,  to  make  room  for  the 
more  honoured  guest.  Take,  rather,  the  lowest  place,  when  you  enter,  that 
your  host,  when  he  comes  in,  may  invite  you  to  take  a  higher,  and  thus 
honour  you  before  all.  Pride  is  its  own  punishment  in  this,  as  in  far 
graver  matters  ;  for,  whether  before  God  or  man,  he  who  exalts  himself 
will  be  humbled,  and  he  who  humbles  himself  will  be  exalted." 

It  was  an  old  custom  in  Israel  to  invite  the  poorer  neighbours  to  the 
special  meals  on  the  consecrated  flesh  of  offerings  not  used  at  the  altar, 
and  on  similar  half -religious  occasions,  to  brighten  their  poverty  for  the 
moment  by  kindly  hospitality.  This  beautiful  usage  was,  in  the  time  of 
Jesus,  among  the  things  of  the  past,  for  the  priest  or  Eabbi  of  His  day 
would  have  trembled  at  the  thought  of  being  defiled  by  contact  witli 
people  whose  position  made  it  impossible  to  be  as  scrupulous  in  the  obser- 
A'ance  of  tlic  endless  legal  injunctions  demanded,  as  themselves. 

The  meal  at  which  Jesus  was  now  present  was  very  possibly  one  to 
which,  in  old  times,  such  very  different  guests  would  have  been  asked. 
Or,  it  may  be,  the  luxury  displayed  drew  the  attention  of  One  so  simple 
in  His  habits.     Not  a  few  neighbours,  in  very  dilfcrent  circumstances 


568  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

from  the  guests,  had  2:)robably  entered,  to  hjok  on  and  listen,  but  caste 
looked  at  them  askance,  as  if  they  were  an  inferior  race.  Noticing  this, 
our  Lord  addressed  Himself  to  the  host  in  a  friendly  way  : 

"  Have  you  ever  thought  what  hospitality  would  yield  you  most  plea- 
sure ?  When  you  wish  on  special  occasions  to  give  a  dinner  or  supj)er, 
the:  e  is  one  course  on  which  you  would  look  back  upon  with  the  purest 
joy.  Do  not  invite  your  rich  friends  to  it,  or  your  family  or  kinsmen,  or 
well-to-do  neighbours.  They  will  invite  you  in  return,  and  this  will  de- 
stroy the  worth  of  your  act,  for  which  you  exiaect  a  recompense  from  God 
at  the  resurrection.  Instead  of  such  guests,  invite  the  poor,  the  hungry, 
the  lame,  the  maimed,  and  the  blind.  If  you  entertain  such,  they  will 
reward  you  richly  by  their  gratitude,  and  if  j'ou  have  invited  them  from 
an  honest  heart,  as  a  duty,  Grod  Himself  will  remember  it  at  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  righteous." 

One  of  the  guests  had  listened  attentively.  The  mention  of  the  resur- 
rection of  the  righteous,  naturally,  under  the  circumstances,  raised  the 
thought  of  the  heavenly  banquet  which  the  Rabbis  expected  to  follow  that 
event.  "  Blessed  are  those,"  said  he,  "  who  shall  eat  bread  at  the  great 
feast  in  the  Kingdom  of  God,  after  the  resurrection.  It  would,  indeed,  be 
Avell  to  give  such  entertainments  as  Thou  hast  named,  which  would  be 
thus  so  richly  rei)aid  in  the  world  to  come." 

This  remark  gave  Jesus  an  opportunity  of  delivering  a  parable  which 
must  have  run  terribly  counter  to  the  jirejudices  of  the  company.  The 
spirit  of  caste  that  i^re vailed  in  the  hierarchical  party,  and  their  utter 
want  of  sympathy  for  the  down-trodden  masses,  were  abhorrent  to  His 
whole  nature.  It  was  daily  clearer  that  the  religious  and  moral  impulse 
by  which  He  was  to  revolutionize  the  world,  would  never  come  from  Israel 
as  a  nation.  The  opportunity  had  been  offered,  and  even  pressed,  but  it 
had  been  rejected,  and  hence  He  was  free  to  proclaim  the  great  truth, 
which,  for  a  time.  He  had  held  back,  that  the  heathen,  as  well  as  the  Jew, 
was  invited,  on  equal  terms,  to  the  privileges  of  the  New  Kingdom  of  God. 
It  was  specially  necessary  in  these  last  months  of  His  life  to  make  this 
prominent,  that  the  minds  of  the  disciples,  above  all,  might  be  prepared 
for  a  revolution  of  thought  so  momentous  and  signal.  He  therefore,  now, 
took  every  opportunity  of  showing  that  the  invitations  of  the  New  King- 
dom,  in  fulfilment  of  the  eternal  purpose  of  God,  were  to  be  addressed  as 
freely  to  the  heathen  as  to  Israel,  and  that  the  religion  He  was  founding 
was  one  of  spirit,  and  truth,  and  liberty,  for  the  whole  world.  This 
revelation,  so  transcendent  in  the  history  of  the  race.  He  once  more  dis- 
closed, had  they  been  able  to  understand  Him,  at  the  Pharisee's  table. 

"  A  certain  man,"  said  He,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  last  speaker,  "  made  a 
great  supper,  and  sent  out  invitations  to  many  guests  ;  giving  them  ample 
time  to  prepare,  and  to  keep  themselves  free  from  other  engagements. 
When  the  night  fixed  for  a  banquet  came,  he  sent  his  servant,  moreover, 
once  more,  as  is  usual,  to  those  invited,  to  say  that  all  was  ready,  and  to 
pray  them  to  come.  But  though  they  had  had  ample  time  to  make  all 
arrangements,  they  were  still  alike  busy  and  unconcerned  about  the  invi- 
tation, and,  as  if  by  common  agreement,  each  in  turn  excused  himself  from 


IN    PEREA.  569 

acceptiug  it.  '  I  have  just  bought  a  field,'  said  oue,  '  aud  must  go  and  see 
it ;  I  beg}  our  master  will  hold  rae  excused,'  aud  went  off  to  his  laud.  '  Ifc 
is  impossible  for  me  to  come,'  said  another,  'for  I  have  just  bought  live 
yoke  of  oxen,  and  am  on  the  point  of  starting  to  try  them.'  A  third 
begged  to  be  excused  because  he  had  just  been  married,  and  could  not 
come,  as  he  had  a  feast  of  his  own. 

"The  servant  had,  therefore,  to  return  to  his  master  with  this  sorry  list 
of  excuses,  each  of  which  was  a  marked  affront.  '  T  shall  see  that  my 
feast  has  not  been  prepai-ed  for  nothing,'  said  the  intending  liost;  '  go  out, 
at  once,  to  the  streets  and  lanes  of  the  cit}',  and  bring  in  all  the  poor,  the 
maimed,  the  blind,  aud  the  lame  you  can  find,  that  my  table  may  be  filled.' 

"  Tliere  being  still  room,  however,  after  this  had  been  done,  the  house- 
holder further  ordered  the  servant  to  go  outside  the  city  to  the  country 
roads  and  hcKlgeways,  and  gather  any  waifs  and  beggars  he  found,  and 
compel  them  to  come  in,  for  his  house  must  be  filled,  aud  none  of  the  men 
he  invited  to  his  supper  shoidd  taste  it." 

Had  the  hearers  but  known  it,  this  parable  was  a  deadly  thrust  at  their 
most  cherished  prejudices.  The  priests  and  Rabbis,  leaders  of  the  nation, 
had  been  invited  again  and  again,  by  Jesus  and  His  disciples,  to  the  spiri- 
tual banquet  of  the  New  Kingdom,  but  they  had  des2:)iscd  the  invitation, 
oi;  any  excuse,  or  on  none.  The  poor  and  outcast  peo]ile,  the  sinners  and 
publicans,  and  the  hated  multitude,  Avho  neglected  the  Ral^binical  rules, 
had  then  been  summoned,  and  had  gladly  come,  and,  now,  the  invitation 
was  to  go  forth  to  those  outside  Israel — the  aljhorred  heathen — and  tho}-, 
too,  were  to  come  freely,  and  sit  down  at  the  great  table  of  the  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah,  with  no  conditions  or  disabilities ;  while  those  who,  in 
their  pride,  had  refused  the  invitation,  were  finally  rejected. 

It  was  the  proclamation,  once  more,  of  the  mighty  truth  which  might 
well  be  too  hard  for  those  who  first  heard  it,  to  understand,  since  it  is  im- 
perfectly realized  after  nineteen  centuries  ;  that  external  rites  aud  formal 
acts  are  of  no  value  with  God,  in  themselves ;  that  He  looks  at  the  con- 
science alone  ;  that  neither  circumcision  nor  sacrifices,  nor  legal  purifica- 
tions, nor  rigid  observance  of  Sabbath  laws,  nor  fasts,  but  the  state  of  the 
heart,  determines  the  relation  of  man  to  God. 

Before  leaving  the  world,  our  Lord  would  put  it  beyond  C{uestion  that 
His  religion  knew  no  caste  or  national  privilege ;  that  it  was  independent 
of  the  cumbrous  machinery  of  rite  and  ceremony,  which  had  crushed  the 
life  out  of  the  religion  of  the  Old  Testament;  and  that  it  could  reign,  in 
its  Divine  perfection,  in  any  human  heart  that  opened  itself  to  the  spii'it 
of  God. 

CHAPTER   LIII. 

IN    PEllEA. 

THE  incident  of  the  Sabbath  meal,  in  the  house  of  the  Pharisee,  had 
occurred  as  Jesus  was  journeying  by  slow  stages  towards  Jerusalem. 
He  had  long  ago  felt  that  to  go  thither  would  ])C  to  die  ;  but  His  death,  in 
whatever  part  of  the  country  He  might  Ijc  apprehended,  was  already  deter- 


570  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

mined  by  His  enemies,  and  it  was  necessary  for  the  future  of  His  Kingdom 
tliat  He  should  not,  like  John,  perish  obscurely  in  some  lonely  fortress, 
but  with  such  publicity,  and  so  directly  by  the  hands  of  tlic  upholders  of 
the  old  Theocracy,  as  to  leave  their  deliberate  rejection  of  His  teaching  in 
no  doubt,  and  to  bring  home  to  them  the  guilt  of  His  death. 

Yet  He  was  in  no  hurry.  It  was  still  some  time  to  the  Passover,  and 
He  advanced  leisurely  on  His  sad  journey,  through  the  different  villages 
and  towns,  teaching  in  the  synagogues  on  the  Sabbaths,  and  anywhere, 
day  by  day,  through  the  week.  Meanwhile,  the  miracles  Avhich  He  wrought 
before  continually  increasing  multitudes,  excited  in  Herod,  the  local  ruler, 
the  same  fear  of  a  political  rising  as  had  led  him  to  imprison  the  Baptist. 

In  spite  of  our  Lord's  earnest  effort  to  discourage  excitement,  by  damp- 
ing every  worldly  hope  or  ambition,  in  the  crowds  that  followed  Him,  and 
leaving  no  question  of  his  utter  refusal  to  carry  out  the  national  pro- 
gramme of  a  ]5olitical  Messiah,  Herod  was  so  alarmed  that  he  made  efforts 
to  apprehend  Him.  Had  the  throngs  increased  with  His  advance  from 
place  to  place,  as  they  well  might,  so  shortly  before  the  Passover,  He  would 
have  entered  Jerusalem  with  a  whole  army  of  partisans,  and  compromised 
Himself  at  once  \nt\i  the  Roman  authorities. 

He,  therefore,  spared  no  effort  to  discourage  and  turn  back  to  their 
homes  those  whom  He  saw  attracted  to  Him  from  other  than  spiritual 
motives.  He  wished  none  to  follow  Him  who  had  not  counted  the  cost  of 
doing  so,  and  Iiad  not  realized  His  unprecedented  demands  from  His  dis- 
ciples. Instead  of  courting  popular  support,  now  that  His  life  was  in  such 
danger.  He  raised  these  demands,  and  refused  to  receive  followers  on  any 
terms  short  of  absolute  self-surrender  and  self-sacrifice  to  His  cause,  though 
Pie  had  nothing  whatever  to  offer  in  return  beyond  the  inward  satisfaction 
of  conscience,  and  a  reward  in  the  future  world,  if  the  surrender  had  been 
the  absolutely  sincere  and  disinterested  expression  of  personal  devotion 
to  Himself. 

"  Consider  well,"  said  He,  "  before  you  follow  me  farther.  I  desire  no 
one  to  do  so  who  does  not  without  reserve  devote  himself  to  me  and  my 
cause.  He  must  tear  himself  from  all  his  former  connections  and  associa- 
tions, and  offer  up,  as  a  willing  sacrifice,  the  claims  of  father,  mother, 
wife,  children,  brother,  or  sister,  and  even  his  own  life,  if  necessary,  that 
he  may  be  in  no  way  hindered  from  entire  devotion  to  mo  and  my  com- 
mands. Short  of  this,  no  one  can  be  my  disciple.  Nor  can  ho  who  is 
not  willing  to  bear  shame  and  suffering  for  my  sake.  You  cannot  be  my 
disciples  unless  you  are  ready  to  be  virtually  condemned  to  die  for  being 
so;  imless,  as  it  were,  you  already  put  on  your  shoulders  the  weiglit  of  the 
cross  on  whicli  you  are  to  be  nailed  for  confessing  my  name. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  no  light  matter,  but  needs  the  gravest  consideration.  You 
know  how  men  weigh  everything  beforehand  in  affairs  of  cost  or  danger ; 
much  more  is  it  needful  to  do  so  in  this  case.  No  man  would  bo  so  foolish 
as  to  begin  building  a  house  without  first  finding  out  the  cost,  and  seeing 
if  he  can  meet  it.  He  will  not  lay  the  foundation,  unless  he  be  able  to 
finish  the  Avhole  structure,  for  he  knows  that  to  do  so  would  make  him  the 
scoff  of  his  neiglibours.     Nor  would  any  king  or  prince,  at  war  with  au 


IN   PEEEA.  571 

other,  march  out  against  him,  witliout  thinking  whether  he  coiikl,  witli 
ten  thousand  men,  overcome  an  enemy  coming  Avith  twice  as  many.  If  ho 
feel  that  the  cliances  are  against  him,  he  will  seek  to  make  peace  hefore 
his  enemy  come  near,  and  will  send  an  embassy  to  him  to  propose  condi- 
tions. No  less,  but  rather  much  more,  cai'cful  consideration  of  the  dangers 
you  run,  of  the  greatness  of  my  demands,  of  the  losses  j-ou  must  cndui'c, 
of  the  shame  and  suffering  certain  to  follow— arc  needed  before  castiu"  in 
your  lot  with  me. 

"  Yet,  as  I  have  repeatedly  said  before,  it  is  the  noblest  of  all  callings  to 
be  my  disci[jle,  if  you  really  can  accejit  my  conditions.  For  to  hhu  who  is 
truly  my  follower,  it  is  given  of  God  to  keep  alive  and  spread  the  spiritual 
life  of  men,  as  salt  keeps  sound  and  fresh  that  which  is  seasoned  by  it.  My 
disciples  are  designed  l)y  God  to  be  the  spiritual  salt  of  the  earth.  But  if 
the  honour  be  greater,  so  much  the  greater  is  the  responsibility ;  for  if  a 
follower  of  mine,  thi'ough  hankering  after  worldly  interests,  lose  his  spiri- 
tual life  and  thus  lose  his  power  to  further  my  cause,  how  can  he  hope  to 
regain  it  ?  He  is  like  salt  that  has  lost  its  strength,  and,  as  such  worth- 
less salt  is  cast  out  by  men,  so  he  will  l^e  cast  out  of  God,  from  the  king- 
dom of  the  Messiah,  at  the  great  day.  He  who  is  thoughtful,  let  him 
ponder  of  all  this !  " 

A  great  English  writer  has  pictured  an  imaginary  character  as  having 
a  sweet  look  of  goodness,  which  drew  out  all  that  was  best  in  others. 
There  must  have  been  some  such  Divine  attraction  to  the  poor  and  outcast 
in  the  looks  and  whole  person  of  our  Lord.  India  is  nob  more  caste-ridden 
than  the  Judca  in  which  He  lived.  The  aristocracy  of  religion  regarded 
the  masses  of  their  own  nation  with  hatred  and  disdain,  and  all  men  of 
foreign  birth  with  bitterness  still  deeper.  The  ruin  of  long,  disastrous 
years  of  civil  war  and  foreign  domi7iation,  had  covered  the  land  Avith 
misery.  The  reign  of  the  Herods  had  been  a  continued  effort  to  rebuild 
blamed  towns,  and  restore  exhausted  finances  ;  but  the  Roman  tax-gatherer 
had  followed,  vampire-like,  and  had  drained  the  nation  of  its  life-blood, 
till  it  was  sinking,  as  all  Koman  provinces  sank,  sooner  or  later,  into 
general  decay.  In  a  land  thus  doubly  adlicted  Ijy  social  proscrijilion,  and 
by  ever-increasing  social  distress — a  land  of  mutual  hatreds  and  wrongs — 
the  suffering  multitudes  hailed  Avith  instinctive  enthusiasm  one  who,  like 
Jesus,  ignored  baleful  prejudices  ;  taught  even  the  sunken  and  hopeless  to 
regain  self-respect,  by  showing  that  He,  at  least,  still  spoke  kindly  and 
hopefully  to  them,  in  all  their  sinfulness  and  misery ;  and  l)y  His  looks 
and  words,  no  less  than  by  His  acts,  seemed  to  beckon  the  unfortunate  to 
gather  round  Him  as  their  friend.  It  must  have  spread  far  and  wide,  from 
His  first  entrance  on  His  ministry,  that  He  had  chosen  a  publican  as  one 
of  His  inmost  circle  of  disciples,  and  that  He  had  not  disdained  to  mingle 
with  the  most  forlorn  and  degraded  of  the  nation,  even  in  the  frieiulliuess 
of  the  table  or  the  cottage.  From  many  a  Aviudowless  hovel,  Avhere  the 
smoke  of  the  household  fire  made  its  way  out  only  by  the  door,  and  the  one 
earth-floored  apartment  was  shared  by  the  wretched  family,  Avith  the  foAvls, 
or  even  beasts  they  chanced  to  own — a  hovel  Avhich  the  priest  or  Ilabbi 
would  have  died  rather  than  defile  himself  by  entering— the  story  spread 


572  THE    LIFE    OF    CHIIIST. 

how  the  great  Galiloeau  teacher  had  not  only  entered,  but  had  done  so  to 
raise  the  dying,  and  to  bless  the  living.  All  over  the  land  it  ran  from 
mouth  to  mouth  that,  for  the  first  time,  a  great  Rabbi  had  appeared  who 
was  no  respecter  of  persons,  but  let  Himself  be  anointed  by  a  poor  peni- 
tent sinner,  and  sat  in  the  booth  with  a  hated  jTOblican,  and  mingled  freely 
in  the  market-place  with  the  crowds  whose  very  neighbourhood  others 
counted  pollution.  Still  more,  it  was  felt  by  the  jiroscribed  millions,  the 
Cagots  and  Pariahs  of  a  merciless  theocracy,  that  He  was  their  champion, 
by  the  very  fact  that  He  was  deemed  an  enemy  by  the  dominant  caste ; 
for  ojjposition  to  it  was  loyalty  to  them. 

Hence,  the  midtitudes  who,  on  this  last  journey  especially,  gathered 
round  Jesus  with  friendly  sympathy  and  readiness  to  receive  His  instruc- 
tions, were  largely  composed  of  the  degraded  and  despised — the  "  publicans 
and  sinners  "  from  far  and  near.  The  Eabbis  enjoined  that  a  teacher 
should  keep  utterly  aloof  from  such  people,  "  even  if  he  had  the  worthy 
design  of  exhorting  them  to  read  the  Law  " — that  is,  even  with  the  view 
of  reclaiming  them.  It  was  a  sign  that  "  wisdom  did  not  dwell  Avith  one  " 
if  he  went  near  the  thief  or  the  usurer,  even  when  they  had  turned  from 
their  evil  ways.  The  superstitious  reverence  demanded  for  those  who 
kept  the  Rabbinical  laws  strictly,  was  only  equalled  by  the  loathing  felt 
towards  the  ignorant  commonalty.  No  Rabbi,  or  Rabbi's  scholar,  might 
on  any  account  marry  a  daughter  of  the  Am-ha-aretzin,  or  unleai-ned,  for 
the  gross  multitude  were  an  abomination,  and  their  wives  loathsome  ver- 
min ;  and  the  most  repulsive  crime  known  to  the  Law  was  no  worse  thaii 
to  marry  among  them.  No  one  might  walk  on  a  journey  with  a  "  common 
man."  It  was  sternly  forbidden  to  pollute  the  Law  by  being  seen  to  read 
it  before  one.  Their  witness  was  refused  in  the  Jewish  courts,  and  it  Avas 
prohibited  to  give  testimony  in  their  favour ;  no  secret  was  to  be  told 
them  ;  they  could  not  be  guardians  of  orphans,  nor  allowed  to  have  charge 
of  the  alms-box  of  the  synagogue ;  and  if  they  lost  anything,  no  notice 
was  to  be  given  them  of  its  having  been  found. 

No  wonder  that  the  Rabbis,  and  the  hierarchical  party  at  large,  owned 
that  "  the  hatred  of  the  common  people  towards  the  '  wise  '  was  greater 
than  that  of  the  heathen  towards  Israel,  and  that  their  wives  were  even 
more  fierce  in  their  hatred  of  them  than  their  husbands." 

That  Jesus  should  outrage  the  established  laws  of  privilege  and  exclu- 
siveness,  by  permitting  those  to  follow  Him  whom  Rabbis  would  not  allow 
to  approach  them,  and,  still  worse,  by  receiving  them  kindly  and  eating 
with  them,  was  a  bitter  offence  to  the  Pharisees  and  scribes.  In  their 
ej'es,  He  was  degrading  Himself  by  consorting  with  the  "  unclean  and 
despicable."  Nor  could  they  say  anything  more  fitted  to  excite  the  mortal 
hatred  of  their  class  against  Him. 

The  storm  of  bitter  murmurings  erelong  reached  the  ears  of  our  Lord, 
and  He  at  once  seized  the  opportunity  to  define  His  position  unmistakably, 
and  show  that  the  course  He  took  was  in  keeping  with  His  whole  aim. 

"  Let  me  ask  you,"  said  He,  to  some  irritated  Rabbis,  who  murmured  at 
seeing  Him,  on  one  occasion,  surrounded  by  "  publicans  and  sinners,"  "  who 
of  you,  if  he  had  a  flock  of  a  hundred  sheep,  and  one  of  them  were  to  go 


IN    TEREA.  573 

astray,  would  not  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  on  the  pastures,  and  go  off 
after  the  one  that  was  lost,  till  he  found  it  ?  And  when  he  had  done  so, 
would  he  not  lay  it  on  his  shoulders  gladly,  and  carry  it  back  to  the  iloc-k  ? 
and,  when  he  had  come  home,  would  he  not  call  together  his  friends  and 
neighbours,  to  rejoice  with  him  at  his  having  found  the  sheep  that  was 
lost? 

"  You  scribes  and  Pharisees,  Eabbis,  lawyers,  think  you  arc  sorigliteous 
that  you  need  no  repentance.  Tou  speak  of  some  of  your  number  as 
having  never  committed  a  sin  in  their  lives  ;  of  some  whose  only  sin  has 
been  such  a  thing  as  having  once  put  on  the  pli3-lactery  for  his  forehead 
before  that  for  his  arm  ;  and  call  some  the  '  pei-fectly  rigliteous.'  Let  nie 
tell  you,  that  the  great  flock  of  God  includes  all  mankind,  for  all  are  His 
sons,  and  that  when  one  who  has  gone  astray  and  has  lived  in  sin,  comes 
to  himself  and  repents,  there  is  greater  joy  in  heaven  over  his  return,  than 
over  ninety  and  nine,  who,  like  you,  think  they  have  no  need  of  repentance. 
And  if  this  be  the  case  in  heaven,  how  much  more  ought  I,  here  on  earth, 
to  rejoice  that  many  such  penitent  ones  come  to  me,  tlian  at  your  self-suf- 
ficient boasting  that  you  need  nothing  at  my  hand .''  " 

"  Or,"  continued  He,  "  T  ask  you,  suppose  a  poor  woman  who  had  only 
ten  drachmae,  were  to  lose  one  in  any  of  the  dark  windowless  hovels,  in 
which  so  many  of  our  people  in  these  evil  days  live,  would  she  not  light  a 
lamp  and  sweep  the  floor  over,  and  spare  no  pains  in  seeking  till  she  found 
it  ?  And  when  she  had  found  it,  would  she  not  call  together  her  friends 
and  neiglibours,  and  ask  them  to  rejoice  witli  her  for  having  found  the 
drachma  that  was  lost?  In  the  same  way,  I  tell  you,  there  is  joy  in  tlie 
presence  of  the  angels  of  God,  in  the  highest  heaven,  over  one  such  sinner 
as  those  you  so  bitterly  despise,  who  turns  and  repents.  Well,  therefore, 
may  I  gladly  receive  them,  and  mingle  with  them,  when  they  come  to  me 
to  learn  the  Avay  back  to  God. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  parable. 

"A  certain  man  had  two  sous.  And  the  j'oungcr  of  these  said  to  his 
father, — '  Father,  give  me,  I  pi'ay  you,  the  portion  of  the  propei'ty  that 
falls  to  me.  I  am  the  younger  son,  and  inherit  only  half  as  much  as  my 
older  brother,  but  I  pray  you  let  me  have  it.'  The  father,  on  this,  divided 
between  the  two  all  his  living,  retaining,  however,  in  his  hands  till  liis  own 
death,  the  larger  share  of  the  elder  son  as  he  might  have  done  with  that 
of  the  younger  sou  also.  His  share,  however,  he  gave  into  the  joung 
man's  own  hands. 

"  But  before  long,  the  younger  son  began  to  dislike  the  restraint  of  liis 
father's  house,  and  gatberiug  all  together,  set  off  for  a  distant  country, 
and  there  gave  his  passions  the  reins,  and  lived  in  sucli  riot,  that  Jiis  wliole 
means  were  very  soon  exhausted.  But,  now,  when  he  had  sjieut  his  all,  a 
great  famine  arose  in  the  country,  and  he  began  to  be  in  distress.  At  last 
it  went  so  hard  with  him,  that  he  was  glad  to  ask  one  of  the  citizens  to 
give  him  some  employment,  however  liuml)lc,  to  get  bread.  He  was, 
thereupon,  sent  into  the  man's  fields,  to  be  his  swineherd,  a  sadly  shameful 
occupation  for  a  Jew  !  Yet,  after  all,  he  did  not  as  much  as  get  the  food 
for  which  he  had  bargained,  for  neither  his  master  nor  any  one  else  heeded 


574  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

liim,  and  he  was  left  to  stai've.  He  even  lougcd  to  fill  himself  with  the 
pods  of  the  carob-trec,  eaten  only  by  the  very  poorest,  and  mostly  given 
to  swine,  but  no  man  gave  him  even  these. 

"  In  his  loneliness  and  sore  trouble,  he  began  to  reflect.  '  How  many 
labourers  and  household  servants  of  my  father,'  said  he  to  himself,  'have 
more  bread  than  they  can  eat,  while  I,  his  son,  am  dying  here  of  want ! 
I  will  arise,  and  go  back  to  my  father,  and  will  confess  my  guilt  and  un- 
worthiness,  and  tell  him  how  deeply  I  feel  that  I  have  sinned  against 
heaven  and  done  great  wrong  towards  him.  I  will  say  that  I  am  no  longer 
worthy  to  be  called  his  son,  and  will  ask  him  to  treat  me  like  one  of  his 
hired  labourers,  and  tell  him  that  I  will  gladly  work  with  them  for  my 
daily  bread,  so  that  he  receive  me  again.' 

"  He  had  no  sooner  resolved  to  do  this,  than  he  rose  to  return  to  his 
father's  house.  But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him, 
and  knew  him,  and  ran  out  to  meet  him,  full  of  loving  compassion,  and 
fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed  him  tenderly.  And  the  son  said  to  him,  '  I 
have  sinned  against  God  and  against  thee,  and  am  not  worthy  that  thou 
shouldest  any  longer  call  me  thy  son.'  He  could  not  say  what  he  had 
intended  besides,  when  he  saw  how  fondly  his  father  bent  over  him,  not- 
withstanding liis  sins  and  folly.  Nor  was  more  needed;  for  his  father 
called  out  to  his  servants,  '  Bring  me  out  quickly  the  best  robe,  and  put  it 
on  him  instead  of  his  rags  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his  finger,  and  sandals  on 
his  feet;  he  shall  no  longer,  like  a  slave,  be  without  either;  and  bring  tlie 
fatted  calf  and  kill  it.  We  shall  have  a  feast  to-day  and  be  merry,  for  my 
son,  lost  and  dead,  as  I  thought,  in  a  strange  land,  is  once  more  home ; 
dead  by  his  sins,  he  is  alive  again  by  repentance ;  a  lost  wanderer,  he  has 
retiumed  to  the  fold.' 

"  The  elder  son,  meanwhile,  had  been  in  the  field  with  the  laljourers,  but 
now  came  towards  home.  And  as  he  drew  near,  he  heard  music  and 
dancing.  Calling  one  of  the  servants,  he  thereupon  asked  what  had 
happened,  and  was  told  that  his  brother  had  come  home,  and  that  his 
father  was  so  glad  to  have  him  once  more  safe  and  sound,  that  he  had  had 
the  best  calf  killed,  and  given  for  a  feast  to  the  household. 

"  But  now,  instead  of  rejoicing  over  his  brother's  return,  the  elder  son 
took  amiss  such  gladness  of  his  father,  at  having  the  wanderer  safely  back, 
and  would  not  go  into  the  house  or  take  any  part  in  the  rejoicings.  The 
father,  therefore,  ever  kind  and  gentle,  went  out  to  him  to  soothe  him,  and 
to  beg  Imn  to  come  in.  All  he  could  say,  hovrever,  failed  to  soften  his 
heart,  and  he  vented  his  discontent  in  angry  reproaches  :  '  I  have  served 
you  for  many  a  year,  more  like  a  slave  than  a  son,  and  have  obeyed  you  in 
every  particular,  and  yet  you  never  gave  me  a  kid,  far  less  a  fatted  calf, 
that  I  might  have  a  little  enjoyment  with  my  friends.  But  when  tliis 
fellow,  who  is  indeed  your  son,  though  I  will  not  call  him  my  brother^ 
when  this  fellow  who  has  spent  your  money  on  harlots — has  come  back 
you  have  killed  the  fatted  calf  for  him.' 

" '  My  son,'  replied  the  father,  mildly,  '  have  you  forgotten  that  you  have 
been  always  by  my  side,  while  your  brother  has  been  far  away  from  me, 
or  that  all  that  T  have  belongs  to  you  as  my  heir  ?     Surely  all  tliis  should 


IN    PEREA.  575 

raise  you  above  such  hard  judgments  and  jealous  thoughts.  What  coukl 
"we  do  but  rejoice  when  a  long-lost  son  has  come  back  again  to  his  father's 
house  ? ' " 

The  parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep  and  of  the  Lost  Piece  of  Silver  had 
taught  the  same  lesson  as  this,  the  noblest  uttered  by  Christ.  Henceforth, 
for  all  ages,  it  was  proclaimed  beytjnd  the  possibility  of  misconception, 
that  the  Eternal  Father  looks  with  unspeakably  greater  favour  on  the 
penitent  humility  of  "  the  sinner,"  with  its  earnest  of  gratitude  and  love, 
than  on  cold  self-righteous  correctness  in  which  the  heart  has  no  place. 

We  are  indebted  to  St.  Luke  for  some  other  fra^rmeuts  of  the  teacluiii' 
of  these  last  weeks. 

Among  the  great  multitudes  who  had  thronged  after  Him,  the  publicans 
of  the  district  were  especially  noticeable.  Many  of  them  were,  doubtless, 
in  a  good  position  in  life,  and  some  even  rich,  but  all  were  exposed  to 
peculiar  temptations  in  their  hated  calling.  Not  a  few  seemed  to  have 
listened  earnestly  to  the  first  Teacher  who  had  ever  treated  them  as  men 
with  souls  to  save,  and  it  was  of  the  greatest  importance  to  them  that  tliey 
should  have  wise  and  true  principles  for  their  future  guidance.  The 
following  parable  seems  to  have  been  delivered  specially  to  them,  as  part 
of  an  address  when  they  had  gathered  in  more  than  usual  nimibers. 

"  A  certain  rich  man  had  a  steward,  to  whom  he  left  the  entire  charge  of 
his  affairs.  He  learned,  however,  from  some  sources,  that  this  man  was 
acting  dishonestly  by  him,  and  scattering  his  goods  ;  so  he  called  him  and 
let  hitn  know  what  he  had  heard,  telling  him,  at  the  same  time,  to  make 
out  and  settle  all  his  accounts,  as  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  ofhcc. 

"  The  steward,  knowing  that  he  was  guilty,  was  at  a  loss  Avliat  to  do.  '  I 
cannot  dig,'  said  he,  to  himself,  '  for  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  it,  and 
I  am  ashamed  to  beg.'  At  last  he  hit  on  a  plan  which  he  thought  would 
serve  his  end,  and  at  once  set  himself  to  cany  it  out.  Going  to  all  his 
master's  tenants,  one  by  one,  he  asked  each  how  much  rent  or  dues  he  had 
to  pay,  though,  in  fact,  he  knew  all  this  beforehand.  When  told,  he  pre- 
tended to  have  been  commissioned,  in  compliance  with  his  own  suggestion,  to 
lower  the  amount  in  each  case ;  and  he  thus  secured  the  favour  of  all.  For 
esami^le,  he  went  to  one  and  asked  him,  '  How  much  owest  thou  to  ]ny 
lord?'  and  when  told 'A  hundred  pipes  of  oil,'  bade  him  take  back  bis 
bill,  and  write  another,  instead,  for  fifty.  A  second,  who  owed  a  hundred 
quarters  of  wheat,  he  told  to  make  out  a  fresh  writing  with  only  eighty. 
In  this  way,  by  leading  them  to  think  him  their  benefactor,  he  made  sure 
of  friends,  who  woiild  open  their  houses  to  him  when  he  had  Ijeen 
dismissed. 

"  Some  time  after,  when  his  master  heard  how  cleverly  he  had  secured 
his  own  ends,  he  could  not  help  admiring  his  shrewdness.  And,  in  trutli, 
it  is  a  fact,  that  bad  men  like  this  steward— the  sons  of  this  world,  not  of 
the  next — are  wiser  in  their  dealings  with  their  fellows,  than  the  sons  of 
light,  my  disciples,  are  in  theirs  with  their  brethren,  like  themselves,  sons 
of  my  heavenly  Kingdom. 

"As  the  master  of  that  steward  commended  him  for  his  prudence, 
though  it  was  so   worldly  and  selfish,  I  also  must  connnend  to   you  a 


576  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

prudence  of  a  higher  kuid  in  your  relations  to  the  things  of  this  life.  By 
becoming  my  disciples,  you  have  identified  yourselves  with  the  interest 
of  {mother  Master  than  Mammon,  the  god  of  this  world,  whom  you  have 
hitherto  served  and  have  before  you  another  course  and  aim  in  life.  You 
will  be  represented  to  your  former  master  as  no  longer  faithful  to  him,  for 
my  service  is  so  utterly  opposed  to  that  of  Mammon  that,  if  faithful  to  me 
you  cannot  be  faithful  to  him,  and  he  will,  in  consequence,  assuredlj^  take 
your  stewardship  of  this  world's  goods  from  you— that  is,  sink  you  in 
poverty,  as  I  have  often  said.  I  counsel  you,  therefore,  so  to  use  the  goods 
of  Mammon — the  worldly  means  still  at  your  command — that,  by  a  truly 
worthy  distril)ution  of  them  to  your  needy  Ijrethren,  and  my  disciples  are 
mostly  poor,  you  may  make  friends  for  yourselves,  who,  if  they  die  before 
you,  will  welcome  you  to  everlasting  habitations  in  heaven,  Avhen  you  pass 
thither,  at  death.  Prepare  yoiu-selves,  by  labours  of  love  and  deeds  of  true 
charity,  as  my  followers,  to  become  fellow-citizens  of  the  heavenly  man- 
sions with  those  whose  wants  you  have  relieved  while  they  were  still  in  life. 

"  If  you  be  thus  faithful  in  the  use  of  your  possessions  on  earth,  you 
will  be  deemed  worthy  by  God  to  be  entrusted  with  infinitely  greater 
riches  hereafter,  in  heaven ;  for  he  that  is  faithful  in  this  lesser  steward- 
ship, has  shown  that  he  will  be  so  in  a  higher,  but  he  who  has  misused  the 
lesser,  cannot  hope  to  be  entrusted  with  a  greater.  If  you  show,  in  your 
life,  that  you  have  been  unfaithful  to  God  in  the  use  of  this  world's  goods, 
entrusted  to  you  by  Him  to  administer  for  His  glory,  how  can  you  liopc 
that  He  will  commit  to  your  keeping  the  unspeakably  grander  trust  of 
heavenly  riches  ?  If  you  have  proved  faithless  in  the  stewardship  of  what 
was  not  yours — the  worldly  means  lent  you  for  a  time  by  God— how  can 
you  hope  to  be  honoured  with  the  great  trust  of  eternal  salvation,  which 
would  have  been  yours  had  you  proved  yourself  fit  for  it  ? 

"Be  assured  that  if  you  do  not  use  your  earthly  riches  faithfully  for 
God,  by  dispensing  them  as  I  have  told  you,  you  will  never  enter  my 
heavenly  Kingdom  at  all.  You  will  have  shown  that  you  are  servants  of 
Mammon,  and  not  the  servants  of  God ;  for  it  is  impossible  for  any  man 
to  serve  two  masters." 

Such  unworldly  counsels,  so  contrary  to  their  own  spirit,  were  received 
with  contemptuous  ridicule  by  the  Pharisees  standing  round,  as  the  mere 
dreams  of  a  crazed  enthusiast.  The  love  of  money  had  becoine  a  charac- 
teristic of  their  decaying  religiousness,  and  it  seemed  to  them  the  wildest 
folly  to  advise  the  rich,  as  their  truest  wisdom,  to  use  their  wealth  to 
make  friends  for  the  future  world,  instead  of  enjoying  it  here.  It  is  quite 
possible,  indeed,  that  some  of  them  felt  the  words  of  Christ  as  a  personal 
reproof,  and  were  all  the  more  embittered. 

Patient  as  He  was  in  the  endui-ance  of  personal  wrongs  and  insults,  the 
indignation  of  Jesus  was  roused  at  such  sneers  at  the  first  principles  of 
genuine  religion,  and  He,  at  once,  with  the  calm  fearlessness  habitual  to 
Him,  exposed  their  hypocrisy  and  unsafeness  as  spiritual  guides. 

"You  hold  your  heads  high,"  said  He,  "and  affect  to  be  saints,  before 
men — such  perfect  patterns  of  piety,  indeed,  that  you  may  judge  all  men 
by  yourselves. 


IN    PEEEA.  577 

"  Yet  God,  who  knows  all  things,  and  judges  not  by  the  outward  ap- 
pearance, but  by  the  heart,  knows  how  different  you  are  in  reality  from 
what  you  make  men  believe.  Your  pretended  holiness,  which  is  so  highly 
thought  of  by  men,  is  an  abomination  before  God.  You  ignore,  or  explain 
away  the  commands  of  His  Law  when  they  do  not  suit  j'ou,  and  thus  are 
mere  actors  ;  for  true  godliness  honours  the  whole  Law.  I  condenni  you 
on  the  one  ground  on  Avhich  you  claim  to  be  most  secure.  You  demand 
honour  for  your  strict  obedience  to  the  Law ;  I  charge  you  witli  hyi^o- 
crisy,  for  your  designed  and  deliberate  corruption  of  that  Law  to  suit 
yourselves. 

"  Sincerity  is  demanded  from  those  who  wish  to  serve  God.  That 
which  Moses  and  the  Prophets  so  long  announced — that  to  which  all  the 
Scriptures  point,  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah — has  come.  From  the 
time  when  the  Baptist  preached,  that  kingdom  is  no  longer  future,  but  is 
set  up  in  your  midst,  and  with  what  success  !  Every  one  presses  with 
eagerness  into  it.  But,  as  you  know,  I,  its  Head  and  King,  make  the 
most  searching  demands  from  those  who  would  enter  it,  and  open  its 
citizenship  only  to  those  who  are  willing  to  overcome  all  difficulties  to 
obtain  it.  You  charge  me  with  breaking  the  Law  :  but,  so  far  from  doing 
so,  I  require  that  the  whole  Law,  in  its  truest  sense,  be  obeyed  by  every 
one  who  seeks  to  enter  the  New  Kingdom.  Believe  me,  it  is  easier  for 
heaven  and  earth  to  pass  away,  than  for  one  tittle  of  the  Law  to  lose  its 
force.  But  how  different  is  it  with  you !  Take  the  one  single  case  of 
divorce.  What  loose  examples  does  not  the  conduct  of  some  of  your  own 
class  supply  ?  what  conflicting  opinions  do  you  not  give  on  the  question  ? 
I  claim  that  the  words  of  the  Law  be  observed  to  the  letter,  and  maintain, 
in  opposition  to  your  hollow  morality,  that  any  one  who  puts  away  his 
wife,  except  for  adultery,  and  marries  another,  himself  commits  adultery, 
and  that  he  who  marries  the  woman  thus  divorced  is  also  guilty  of  the 
same  crime.  Judge  by  this  whether  you  or  I  most  honour  the  Law — 
whether  you  or  I  are  the  safer  guides  of  the  people.  How  God  must 
despise  your  boasts  of  special  zeal  for  His  glory  ! 

"  But  that,  notwithstanding  your  sneers,  you  may  feel  the  truth  of  what 
I  have  just  said  as  to  the  results  of  the  possession  of  riches,  when  they  are 
not  employed  as  I  have  counselled — to  make  friends  for  yourselves,  who 
will  welcome  you  to  heaven  hereafter — hearken  to  a  parable. 

"There  was  a  certain  rich  man,  who  dressed  in  robes  of  fine  purple— the 
raiment  of  princes — over  garments  of  the  costliest  Egyptian  cotton,  which 
only  the  most  luxurious  can  buy. 

"There  was  also,  in  the  same  place,  a  poor  diseased  beggar  named 
Lazarus,  who  had  been  brought  and  set  down,  as  an  object  of  charity, 
before  the  gates  of  the  great  man's  mansion,  where  he  lay  helpless,  day 
after  day  ;  so  abject,  that  he  longed  to  be  fed  with  what  fell  from  the  rich 
man's  table.  But  the  rich  man,  though  he  often  saw  him,  and  knew  his 
case,  showed  him  no  kindness,  and  instead  of  relieving  the  sufferer,  and 
thus  making  Avith  his  money  a  friend  who  should  help  him  hereafter,  as  I 
advise,  had  no  thought  except  of  himself,  and  of  his  own  pleasure.  The 
poor  man's  case  was  indeed  pitiful ;  .he  could  not  even  drive  away  the 

p  p 


578  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

unclean  dogs,  which,  day  by  day,  came  and  increased  his  pain  by  licking 
his  sores. 

"It  came  to  pass,  after  a  time,  that  Lazarus  died,  and  was  carried  by 
the  angels  to  Paradise,  and  there  laid  down  next  to  Abraham  on  the 
banqueting  conches,  at  the  feast  in  the  Kingdom  of  God,  with  his  head 
in  tlie  great  patriarch's  bosom — the  highest  place  of  honour  that  Paradise 
could  give. 

"  Soon  after,  the  rich  man,  also,  died,  and,  unlike  Lazarus — whom  men 
had  left  uncared  for,  even  in  his  death — he  was  honoured  with  a  sump- 
tuous funeral. 

"  Pie,  also,  passed  to  Hades  ;  not,  however,  to  that  part  of  it  where  Para- 
dise is,  but  to  Gehenna,  the  place  of  pain  and  torment  in  the  world  of 
sliades.  And  in  Hades  he  lifted  up  liis  eyes,  and  saw  Abraham  in  the  far 
distance,  in  the  banqueting  hall  of  bliss,  with  Lazarus  reclining  next  him, 
in  his  bosom,  as  bis  most  honoured  friend.  And  he  knew  them  both,  and 
remembered  how  Lazarus  had  lain  at  his  gate,  and  thought  of  this  as 
a  Ijond  between  them.  '  O  Father  Abraham,'  cried  he,  in  his  torments, 
'  have  mercy  on  my  agony,  I  beseech  thee,  and  send  Lazarus,  that  he  may 
dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in  water,  and  cool  my  tongue,  for  I  am  tormented 
in  this  flame.'  So  great  had  been  the  change  in  their  positions,  that  the 
despised  beggar  was  now  entreated  to  do  even  so  small  a  favour  to  him 
from  Avhom  he  himself  had  once  looked  for  any  favour  in  vain  !  Dives 
would  fain  make  friends  with  Lazarus,  but  could  not  bethink  him  of  any 
kindness  he  had  ever  shown  him,  to  urge  it  on  his  own  behalf. 

"  Of  this  Abraham  now  reminded  him.  '  Son,'  said  he,  '  wonder  not 
that  you  and  Lazarus  are  in  such  ojjposite  conditions  here,  from  those  you 
had  when  in  life.  You,  then,  had  as  much  earthly  hapjainess  as  you  could 
enjoy;  you  had  it,  and  set  your  heart  on  it,  and  lived  only  for  yourself. 
Plad  you  used  your  v.'ealth  as  a  godly  man,  in  doing  good  to  those  who, 
like  Lazarus,  needed  pity,  instead  of  lavishing  it  on  splendour  and  self- 
indulgence,  you  would  have  had  good  laid  up  for  you  now.  But  you  lived 
only  fcr  earth,  and  the  good  you  cliose  has  been  left  behind  you.  You  had 
your  portion  in  your  lifetime,  and  have  none  here.  But  Lazai'us  endured, 
while  still  alive,  the  sufferings  allotted  him,  and  he  has  none  in  this  state. 
Penitent  and  lowly,  he  bore  them  patiently,  as  a  child  of  God,  and  is  now 
receiving  the  reward  of  the  poor  in  spirit.  Plis  position  and  yours  are 
reversed,  for  he  finds  consolation  and  joy  in  exchange  for  his  earthly 
misery,  but  you,  pain  and  sorrow,  instead  of  your  self-indulgence.' 

" '  Besides  all  this,'  added  ne,  '  between  this  happy  abode  and  yours, 
there  is  a  great  space  across  which  no  one  can  pass,  either  from  us  to  you, 
or  from  you  to  us,  so  that  it  is  inqjossible  that  you  should  have  any  share 
in  our  joy,  or  that  we  can  in  any  way  lessen  your  pain.' 

"  Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  rich  man  saw  the  full  extent  of  his  misery, 
and  its  cause.  'Would  that  I  had  acted  differently,'  cried  he,  '  when  in 
life.  Would  that,  instead  of  living  for  myself — hard,  impenitent,  selfish  — 
I  had  been  lowly  and  penitent,  using  my  wealth  as  God  enjoined,  in  Ijless- 
ing  the  wretched.  I  should  then  have  been  welcomed  by  Lazarus,  and 
such  as  he,  into  the  everlasting  habitations  of  Paradise! ' 


IN   TEREA.  679 

"  *  But,  0  Father  Abraham,'  he  continued,  '  let  me  be  the  only  one  of  my 
race  to  come  into  this  dolofiil  place.  Send  Lazarus,  I  beseech  tlicc,  back 
to  earth,  to  my  Father's  house,  for  I  have  five  brethren,  who  live  as  I 
lived.  It  would  add  unspeakably  to  my  pain  if  they  also  came  to  this 
abode  of  woe.  Oh  !  let  Lazarus  go  and  warn  them  of  what  has  befallen 
me,  their  brother.' 

"  'To  escape  your  sad  doom,'  replied  Abraham,  'they  must  needs  repent, 
and  live  the  life  of  the  godly.  But  for  this  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  arc 
the  appointed  means  ;  let  them  listen  to  them.' 

'"  Nay,  Father  Aln-aham,' answered  the  lost  one,  '  that  is  not  enough. 
It  did  not  move  me  to  repentance.  But  if  a  dead  man  returned  again 
from  the  grave,  and  came  to  them,  and  told  them  how  it  was  with  mo 
here,  they  would  be  alarmed,  and  reform.' 

"  '  You  err,  my  unhappy  son,'  said  Abraham,  closing  the  scene.  '  It 
would  not  move  them  in  the  least,  for  so  amply  are  the  Scriptures  fitted 
to  persuade  men  to  repentance,  that  those  whom  they  do  not  w  in  to  it 
would  not  be  persuaded  even  if  one  rose  from  the  dead.'  " 

The  Ealjbis  had  listened  to  the  parable,  but  it  touched  their  own  failing 
too  pointedly,  to  make  them  cai'e  for  any  longer  conference  with  Jesus. 
"When  they  were  gone — it  may  bo  while  He  was  resting  with  the  Twelve 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening — the  incidents  of  the  whole  day  were  passed  in 
review,  and  Jesus  noticed  that  the  w^ords  and  bearing  of  His  opponents, 
respect  for  whom,  as  the  teachers  of  the  nation,  was  instinctive  with  every 
Jew,  had  not  been  without  their  effect  even  on  His  disciples.  It  was  evident 
that  the  very  nature  of  His  demands,  the  trials  and  persecutions  to  come, 
and  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  would  raise  moral  hindrances  to  the 
full  and  abiding  loyalty  of  not  a  few. 

By  way  of  caution,  therefore.  He  now  warned  them  on  this  point.  "  It 
is  impossible,"  said  He,  "to  prevent  divisions,  disputes,  and  even  deser- 
tion and  apostasy,  on  the  part  of  some  of  you,  in  the  evil  times  to  come- 
Misrepresentation,  prejudice,  the  bent  of  different  minds,  the  weakness  of 
some,  and  the  unworthiness  of  others,  will  inevitably  produce  their  natural 
results.  The  progress  of  my  Kingdom  will,  I  foresee,  be  hindered  more 
or  less  from  this  cause;  but  it  cannot  be  avoided.  Yet,  woe  to  him  who 
thus  hinders  the  spread  and  glory  of  the  Truth.  It  were  better  for  him, 
if,  like  the  worst  criminal,  he  were  bound  to  a  heavy  millstone,  and  cast 
into  the  sea,  than  that  he  should  cause  a  single  simple  child-like  soul,  who 
believes  in  me,  to  stumble.  Take  heed  that  you  neither  mislead  nor  are 
misled !  Remember  my  words— that  offences  must  be  prevented  or  re- 
moved by  a  lowly  forgiving  spirit  on  your  part.  You  know  how  far  you 
are  yet  from  this  ;  how  strong  pride,  love  of  your  own  opinion,  harshness, 
and  impatience,  still  are  in  your  hearts.  To  further  my  Kingdom  when 
I  am  gone,  strive  above  all  things  for  peace  and  love  among  yourselves. 

"The  one  grand  means  of  avoiding  these  causes  of  oifonce  and  spiritual 
ruin,  is  unwearied,  forgiving  love  ;  that  frame  of  mind  which  you  see  so 
wholly  wanting  in  the  Rabbis,  that  they  have  even  now  murmured  at  my 
so  much  as  speaking  to  sinners,  from  whom  such  simple,  lowly  brethren 
are  to  be  rfathorod.     Tf  such  an  one  sin  against  vou.  and  turn  away  from 


580  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

your  fellowship,  rebuke  him  for  his  siu  ;  but  if  he  see  his  error  and  repent 
of  it,  and  come  back,  forgive  him ;  aye,  even  if  he  wrong  you  seven  times 
in  a  day,  and  feel  and  acknowledge  his  error,  and  promise  amendment  as 
often,  you  must,  each  time,  forgive  him  freely." 

The  Twelve  had  listened  to  these  counsels  with  intense  interest,  but 
their  moral  grandeur  almost  discouraged  them.  They  felt  that  nothing  is 
harder  than  constant  i^atience  and  loving  humility^never  returning  evil 
for  evil,  but  ever  ready  to  forgive,  even  when  repeatedly  injured  without 
cause.  It  needed,  as  they  feared,  stronger  faith  than  they  yet  had,  to 
create  such  an  abiding  spirit  of  tender  meekness.  They  had  talked  over 
the  whole  matter,  and  saw  only  one  source  of  strength.  Coming  to  their 
Master,  full  of  confidence  in  His  Divine  power  to  grant  their  request,  they 
openly,  and  with  a  sweet  humility,  prayed  Him  that  He  would  increase 
their  faith. 

"  This  request,"  answered  Jesus,  "  shows  that  faith,  in  a  true  and  worthy 
sense,  is  yet  to  be  begun  in  your  hearts.  If  you  had  it,  even  in  a  small 
measure,  or,  to  use  a  phrase  you  often  hear,  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed; 
instead  of  finding  obedience  to  these  counsels  too  difficult,  you  would 
undertake  and  perform  even  apparent  impossibilities — acts  of  trust  which 
demand  the  highest  spiritual  power  and  strength.  In  the  words  of  the 
Rabbis,  familiar  to  you  as  an  illustration  of  acts  naturally  impossible,  you 
would  say  to  this  sycamore  or  mulberry  tree,  '  Be  thou  plucked  up  by  the 
roots  and  planted  in  the  sea,'  and  it  would  obey  you — that  is,  you  would 
be  able  to  do  what,  without  divine  help,  is  as  much  beyond  human  power. 

"  To  such  efficiency  and  eminence  in  my  service  will  true  faith  in  me 
lead  you ;  but  beware,  amidst  all,  of  any  thought  of  merit  of  your  own. 
Your  faith  must  grow,  and  cannot  be  given  as  a  mere  bounty  from  with- 
out ;  it  is  a  result  of  your  own  spiritual  development  and  true  humility, 
which  looks  away  from  self  to  me,  as  the  one  condition  of  this  advance- 
ment. You  shall  have  the  increased  faith  you  seek,  but  it  will  be  only  by 
your  continued  loving  dependence  on  me,  your  Master.  If  any  of  you  had 
a  servant  ploughing  or  tending  your  flock,  would  you  say  to  him,  when  he 
comes  home  from  the  field  in  the  evening,  '  Come  near  immediately,  and 
sit  down  to  meat  ?  '  Would  you  not  rather  say,  '  Prejoare  my  supper,  and 
make  yourself  fit  to  wait  on  me  at  table,  and  after  I  have  supped,  you 
shall  eat  and  drink  ?  '  Would  you  think  yourself  under  obligation  to  the 
servant,  because  he  has  been  working  for  you,  or  because  he  waits  on  you 
as  required  ?  Assuredly  not,  for,  at  most,  he  had  only  done  what  it  was 
right  he  should  do  as  a  servant.  Be  you  such  servants.  There  is  a  daily 
woik,  with  prescribed  tasks,  required  from  you.  The  great  supper  will 
not  be  till  this  life  is  ended ;  but  when  it  has  come,  you  must  not  think  of 
yourselves,  on  account  of  your  labours  here,  excej^t  as  becomes  servants ; 
and  should  you  be  rewarded  or  honoured,  you  must  not  forget,  that  it  is 
only  from  my  free  favour,  not  in  paj^ment  of  any  claim  ;  because,  in  fact, 
you  have  done  only  what  it  was  your  duty,  as  servants,  to  do.  The  servant 
who  does  less  than  his  duty,  is  guilty  before  his  master,  but  he  who  h^s 
done  his  duty,  though  he  has  avoided  blame,  has  no  reason  to  think  /lim- 
self  entitled  to  reward.     In  any  case,  therefore,  your  work  has  not  been 


IN    PEEEA.  581 

beyond  your  rightful  duty,  and,  tliough  you  have  escaped  condemnation, 
you  have  no  claim  for  any  merit." 

The  hostility  of  the  Rabbis  was  growing  daily  more  bitter,  after  each 
fruitless  attack.  At  every  town  or  village  they  gathered  round  Him, 
and  harassed  Him  by  continual  attempts  to  compromise  Him  with  the 
authoritier. 

On  one  of  these  last  days  of  His  journey  towards  Jerusalem,  a  knot  of 
Pharisees  had  thus  forced  themselves  on  Him,  and  sought  to  elicit  some- 
thing that  might  serve  them,  by  asking  Him  : 

"  Master,  you  have  often  represented  yourself,  both  by  word  and  by 
mighty  deeds,  as  the  Messiah,  but  wc  see  no  signs  as  yet  of  the  coming  of 
the  kingdom  of  God.     When  will  it  come  ?     It  has  been  long  promised." 

"The  kingdom  of  God,"  answered  Jesus,  "is  somctliing  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  what  you  expect.  You  look  for  a  great  political  revolution, 
and  the  establishment  of  a  Jewish  empire,  with  its  capital  in  Jerusalem. 
Instead  of  this,  it  is  a  spiritual  kingdom,  in  the  hearts  and  consciences  of 
men,  and,  as  such,  cannot  come  with  the  outward  display  and  circum- 
stance of  earthly  monarchy,  so  that  men  may  say,  '  Lo,  here  is  the  kingdom 
of  God,'  or,  '  Lo,  there.'  The  coming  of  the  kingdom  develops  itself  un- 
(;bserved.  I  cannot,  therefore,  give  you  any  moment  when  it  may  be  said 
to  have  come,  for,  in  fact,  it  is  already  in  j-our  midst.  I,  the  Messiah,  live 
and  work  amongst  you,  and  where  the  Messiah  is,  there  is  His  Kingdom. 
There,  already,  is  it  steadily  advancing,  after  its  nature,  like  the  seed  in 
the  ground,  like  the  grain  of  mustard-seed,  or,  like  the  leaven  in  a  woman's 
measure  of  meal." 

The  malevolent  question  thus  met  a  reply  which  at  once  balked  curiosity, 
and  laid  the  most  solemn  responsibilities  on  all ;  for  if  the  Messiah  was 
really  among  them,  how  imperative  to  fit  themselves  for  entering  His 
Kingdom  !  The  interrogators,  finding  their  sinister  effort  vain,  presently 
left,  and,  when  alone,  Jesus  resumed  the  subject  with  His  disciples. 

"I  have  only  spoken  to  these  men,"  said  He,  "of  the  growth  and  de- 
velopment of  my  Kingdom,  unseen,  and  silently,  in  the  hearts  of  men.  To 
you  I  would  now  speak  of  the  future.  Days  will  come  when  trouble  shall 
make  men's  hearts  long  for  the  return  of  one  of  the  days  of  the  Son  of 
man,  and  false  Messiahs  will  rise,  pretending  to  bring  deliverance.  But 
when  they  say  to  you,  '  Lo,  there  is  the  Messiah  come  at  last,'  or,  '  Lo,  here 
He  is,'  go  not  out  alter  them  ;  do  not  follow  them.  For  the  coming  of  the 
Son  of  man  will  be  as  sudden,  as  striking  to  all  eyes,  as  mighty  in  its 
power,  as  when  the  lightning  leaps  from  the  cloud  and  suddenly  sets  the 
whole  heavens  in  flame.  There  is  no  need  of  asking  of  the  lightning 
'  Where  is  it  ?  '  or  for  any  to  tell  you  of  it. 

"  But  this  coming  will  not  be  now.  I  must  first  suffer  many  things 
from  this  generation,  and  be  rejected  hj  it.  Instead  of  approaching  with 
slow  royal  pomp,  seen  and  welcomed  from  afar  ;  instead  of  the  world  hail- 
ing my  coming,  and  preparing  for  it,  as  for  that  of  an  expected  king;  they 
will  be  busied  in  their  ordinary  affairs  when  it  is  nearest ;  till,  suddenly, 
wide  ruin  and  judgment  burst  on  them,  as  the  flood  on  the  men  of  the 
days  of  Noah,  and  the  fire  from  heaven  on  Sodom  in  the  days  of  Lot, 


582  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

bringing  destruction  on  all.  Men  lived  in  security  then ;  tliey  ate  and 
drank,  they  married  and  gave  in  marriage,  with  no  thought  or  prcjaaration 
for  the  impending  catastrophe. 

"  It  will  be  the  same  at  my  coming.  Men  will  be  as  secure  ;  the  day 
will  burst  on  them  as  suddenly,  when  I  shall  be  revealed  in  my  glory. 
When  it  comes,  there  Avill  be  an  awful  and  instant  separation  of  man  f rotn 
man.  The  good  and  evil  will  no  longer  be  mixed  together.  He  who 
would  save  himself  must,  on  the  moment,  part  from  those  whom  the  peril 
threatens.  He  who  lives  in  a  town,  must,  as  the  destruction  approaches, 
so  hasten  his  flight,  that  if  he  be  on  the  housetoiD  when  it  draws  near,  he 
must  not  think  of  going  into  the  house  to  save  anything,  but  must  flee,  at 
the  loss  of  all  earthly  possessions.  He  who  is  in  the  open  field,  must  not 
turn  back  to  his  house  for  his  goods,  but  must  leave  all  behind  him,  and 
escape  witli  his  life.  You  hear  my  words  ;  see  you  give  heed  to  them  in 
that  day.  Eemember  Lot's  wife,  who  perished  for  looking  back  in  dis- 
obedience to  the  Divine  command.  Whosoever,  in  that  day,  shall  seek  to 
preserve  his  life,  by  unfaithfulness  to  me,  shall  lose  life  eternal,  and  ho 
who  loses  this  life  for  my  sake,  will  secure  heaven  for  ever. 

"  The  separation  of  men,  at  my  coming,  will,  indeed,  be  solemn !  Those 
who  spent  this  life  together,  will  then  find  themselves  parted  for  ever  !  I 
tell  you,  in  that  night  there  will  be  two  men  in  one  bed  ;  one  will  be  taken, 
and  the  other  left  :  two  poor  slaves  will  be  grinding  flour  for  the  household 
together  ;  one  will  be  taken,  and  the  other  left." 

The  Twelve  had  listened  with  breathless  attention  to  this  vision  of  the 
future.  They  had  heard  much  that  was  new,  grand,  and  fearful,  and  they 
trembled  with  a  natural  alarm  at  the  awful  jjicturo  set  before  them. 
"  Where,  Lord,"  asked  they,  "  will  the  Messiah  gather  His  own,  that  they 
may  be  safe?    Where  will  those  who  love  Thee  find  a  refuge  in  that  day?" 

"  Who  tells  the  eagle,"  replied  Jesus,  "  where  the  carcase  is  P  His  keen 
eyes  see  it  from  afar.  My  faithful  ones  will  at  once  discover  where  the 
Messiah  is,  and  where  their  gathering  j)lace  has  been  appointed,  and  with 
swift  flight  will  betake  themselves  thither." 

The  momentous  earnestness  with  which  Jesus  had  so  often  spoken  of 
the  difficulty  of  being  truly  His  disciple  had  sunk  into  the  hearts  of  many 
who  heard  it,  and  the  free  access  to  Himself  He  permitted,  must  often 
have  been  used  to  seek  counsel  on  a  point  so  momentous.  It  was,  more- 
over, a  passion  with  the  Jew  to  speculate  on  eveiy  question  of  theology, 
as  is  seen  in  the  vast  system  elaborated  by  the  Kabbis.  The  mysteries  of 
the  future  world  especially  engrossed  them.  By  the  multitude  it  was  taken 
for  granted  that  every  Israelite  would,  of  right,  have  a  portion  in  heaven, 
but  there  were  not  a  few  others  who,  like  Esdras,  fancied  that  "  The  Most 
High  had  made  this  world  for  many,  but  the  world  to  come  for  few  :  as  He 
had  made  much  common  earth,  but  little  gold."  One  in  whom  His  words 
had  raised  such  questions,  took  advantage,  about  this  time,  of  His  readiness 
to  listen  to  their  doubts  and  inquiries,  to  ask  Him  if  more  than  a  few  only 
would  be  saved,  since  He  had  said  it  was  so  hard  to  be  His  follower.  In- 
stead of  answering,  directly,  a  question  which  could  only  gratify  curiosity, 
Jesus,  ever  practical,  gave  His  reply  a  turn  which  was  much  more  useful. 


IN   PEEEA.  5S3 

"  It  would  benefit  j'ou  little,"  said  He,  "  if  I  answered  your  question  as 
you  wish;  the  great  matter  for  yon  is  that  many  will  not  be  saved,  so  that 
it  becomes  you  to  strive,  with  intense  earnestness,  to  enter  in  throngli  the 
narrow  door  that  leads  to  eternal  life ;  for  many,  I  say  unto  you,  who  would 
like  to  enter  at  last,  but  do  not  thus  strive  now,  will  seek  to  do  so  when 
too  late,  and  will  not  be  admitted.  If  once  you  be  shut  out  from  the 
kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  you  will  in  vain  plead  your  present  external  con- 
nection with  me.  When  the  great  banquet  of  heaven  begins,  the  Messiah 
will  cause  the  door  of  the  banqueting  hnll  to  be  shut.  If  you,  then,  come 
to  it  and  knock  at  the  door,  saying  '  Lord,  open  to  us,'  He  will  answer  f  n)m 
within,  '  I  know  you  not,  whence  you  are.'  If  you  urge  that  He  has  for- 
gotten you,  and  that,  if  He  will  bethink  Him,  He  will  recollect  that  you 
ate  and  drank  in  His  presence,  as  companions  at  the  same  taljlo,  and  that 
He  had  taught  in  your  streets.  He  will  only  answer,  *  I  tell  you  1  know  you 
not,  whence  ye  are.     Depart  from  me,  all  ye  workers  of  unrighteousness.' 

"  What  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth  will  be  there  as  ye  stand  thus, 
and  see  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  all  the  prophets,  in  the  king- 
dom of  God,  and  yourselves  cast  out!  What  wailing,  when  you  see,  in- 
stead of  yourselves,  the  heathen  you  have  so  despised,  come  from  the  east, 
and  west,  and  north,  and  south,  and  sit  down  at  the  great  feast  of  heaven. 
Believe  me,  many  who  now,  before  the  setting  up  of  my  Kingdom,  are 
first,  will  be  last,  after  it  is  set  up ;  many,  like  the  heathen,  who  shall 
enter  to  the  feast,  though  they  have  become  my  disciples  only  after  Israel 
has  rejected  my  Kingdom,  will  yet  take  a  first  place  in  it.  See  that  ye 
press  on  while  the  door  is  still  open  to  admit  you."' 

Jesus  had  now  been  for  some  time  in  Perea,  in  the  territory  of  Antipas, 
the  murderer  of  John.  The  intense  unpopularity  of  the  crime  had,  doubt- 
less, been  a  protection  to  Him;  but,  besides  the  fact  that  Antipas  per- 
sonally feared  the  great  Miracle- worker,  thinking  He  was  perhaps  the 
murdered  Baptist,  risen  from  the  dead,  there  were  many  other  reasons 
why  he  should  wish  Him  fairly  out  of  his  dominions.  Unwilling  to  appear 
in  the  matter,  he  used  the  Pharisees,  coimting  on  their  readiness  to  fur- 
ther his  end.  Some  of  their  number,  therefore,  came  to  Christ,  with  the 
air  of  friends  anxious  for  His  safety,  and  warned  Him  that  it  would  be 
well  for  Him  to  leave  Perea  as  quickly  as  possible,  as  Herod  desired  to 
kill  Him. 

Jesus  at  once  saw  through  the  whole  design,  as  a  crafty  plan  of  Herod 
for  His  expulsion.  But  He  was  on  His  way  to  Jerusalem,  and  contented 
Himself  with  showing  that  He  gave  no  grounds  for  political  suspicion, 
and  that  He  quite  well  understood  how  little  friendship  there  was  in  the 
advice  the  Pharisees  had  given  Him. 

"  Go  and  tell  that  crafty  fox,"  said  He,  "  that  I  know  why  he  is  afraid 
of  me,  and  wishes  me  out  of  his  land.  Tell  him  there  is  no  cause  for  his 
ill  will,  for  I  do  nothing  to  wake  his  alarm.  I  have  no  designs  that  can 
injure  him,  but  confine  myself  to  driving  demons  from  poor  men  possessed 
with  them,  and  to  healing  the  sick.  These  harmless  labours  I  shall  not  in- 
termit till  the  time  I  have  fixed  to  give  to  them  is  over.  It  will  take  throe 
days  more  to  pass  quite  out  of  Perea,  and  for  these  three  daj's  I  shall  be 


584  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

in  his  territory,  but  on  the  third  day  I  leave  it,  for  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  Jerusalem,  to  die  there.  Herod  will  not  need  to  trouble  himself  to  kill 
me,  for  it  would  be  unfitting  for  a  prophet  to  die  outside  the  Holy  City." 
Such  a  message  was  virtually  an  intimation  that  He  knew  it  would  be  by 
the  hands  of  those  who  pretended  kindly  to  warn  Him,  and  their  allies, 
that  he  should  perish,  and  not  by  those  of  Antipas. 

The  word  Jerusalem,  and  the  thought  of  the  guilt  of  the  city  so  tenderly 
loved  hj  Him — guilt  soon  to  be  increased  by  His  violent  death  at  its  hand 
— filled  His  heart  with  deep,  irrepressible  emotion. 

"  O  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem,"  cried  He,  in  a  louder  voice,  trembling  with 
sadness,  "  it  is  thou,  the  City  of  the  Temple,  the  City  of  the  Great  King, 
who  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  those  whom  God  sends  unto  thee ! 
Thou  art  still  true  to  thine  evil  repute  !  How  often,  oh  how  often,  thou 
mother  of  many  children,  would  I  have  gathered  them  all  round  me 
safely,  from  the  dangers  before  them,  as  the  careful  hen  calls  together 
her  brood,  and  spreads  her  wings  over  them,  when  the  shadow  of  evil  falls 
near  and  guards  them  from  every  harm  !  But  thou  wouldst  not  let  me  do 
thee  this  service.  For  what  shall  come  on  thee  thou  must,  thyself,  bear 
the  blame  !  The  Divine  protection  I  would  have  given  thee  thou  hast 
refused  and  hast  lost,  nor  will  I  appear  in  thy  desolation  as  thy  helper. 
Thou  wilt  not  see  me  till  I  come  to  set  up  in  thee  my  Kingdom,  and  receive 
thy  homage,  no  longer  to  be  denied,  as  the  Messiah,  the  Blessed,  who  comes 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord !  " 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

IN  VETH^ A— Continued. 

THE  lofty  demands  of  Jesus  from  His  followers  had  filled  the  Twelve 
Avith  doubts  and  misgivings  of  their  power  to  fulfil  them.  A  con- 
tinuous self-denial  which  thought  only  of  their  Master,  and  a  patient  love 
which  returned  meekness  and  good  for  evil  and  injury,  were  graces  slowly 
attained ;  how  much  more  so  when  they  could  only  strike  root  in  the  heart 
after  the  dislodgment  of  hereditary  prejudices  and  modes  of  thought  ? 

A  sense  of  weakness  had  already  led  them  to  ask  that  their  faith  in 
Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  able  to  aid  them  in  all  their  straits  and  trials,  might 
be  strengthened.  The  utterance  of  that  faith  in  prayer  was  no  less  neces- 
sary, at  once  to  obtain  the  grace  needed  to  bear  them  through  difficulties, 
and  to  raise  them  to  a  steadfast  confidence  in  the  triumphant  manifesta- 
tion of  their  Master's  Kingdom,  of  which  He  had  more  than  once  spoken. 
Lest  they  should  gi'ow  slack  in  this  great  duty,  He  reminded  thern  that 
their  whole  frame  of  mind  should  be  one  of  habitual  devotion,  to  keep 
them  from  becoming  faint-hearted,  and  giving  way  before  the  trials  they 
might  have  to  suffer,  or  at  the  seeming  delay  in  His  coming.  His  words, 
as  usual,  took  the  form  of  a  parable. 

"There  was  in  a  city,"  said  He,  "a  judge  who  neither  feared  God  nor 
reverenced  man.  And  there  was  also  a  widoAV  in  that  city  who  had  an 
enemy  from  whom  &he  could  hope  to  get  free  only  by  the  interposition  of 


IX    PEREA.  685 

the  judge.  So  she  came  often  to  him,  asking  him  to  do  justice  to  her,  and 
maintain  her  right  against  her  adversary.  But  he  paid  no  attention,  for 
a  long  time,  to  her  suit.  At  last,  however,  he  could  bear  her  constant 
coming  no  longer,  and  said  within  himself,  '  Though  I  should  do  it  as  my 
duty,  that  does  not  trouble  me,  for  I  do  not  pretend  to  fear  God,  and  care 
nothing  for  man ;  yet  this  widow  torments  me.  I  shall  therefore  do  what 
is  right  in  her  case  for  my  own  sake,  for  otherwise  she  will  weary  me  out 
by  her  constant  appeals.' 

"  So  the  widow,  by  her  importunity,  obtained  licr  end  at  last. 

"  Hear  what  the  unjust  judge  says  !  But  if  men  thus  get  what  is  right, 
even  from  the  worst,  if  they  urge  their  suit  long  enough,  "with  sufficient 
earnestness ;  how  can  any  one  doubt  that  God,  the  Righteous  One,  will 
give  heed  to  the  cry  of  His  saints  for  all  they  have  to  suffer  ?  AVill  He 
not  much  rather, — though  He  let  the  enemy  rage  for  what  seems  a  long 
time, —  surely,  at  the  great  day,  avenge  the  wrongs  of  His  elect  who  are  so 
dear  to  Him,  and  thus  cry  in  prayer  night  and  day  ? 

"I  tell  you,  He  will  be  patient  towards  them,  though  they  thus  cry  to 
Him  continually,  for  He  is  not  wearied  with  their  complaints,  as  the  un- 
just judge  was  with  those  of  the  widow;  and  He  will  deliver  them  from 
their  enemies,  without  and  within,  and  give  them  a  portion  in  the  King- 
dom of  the  Messiah,  and  that  speedily.  For  when  the  Messiah  comes  it 
will  seem  as  if  the  waiting  for  Him  had  only  been  brief.  But  when  He 
thus  comes,  will  He  find  any  who  still  look  for  Him  and  believe  that  the 
promise  of  His  return  will  be  fulfilled  ?  "Will  my  disciples  endure  to  the 
end ;  or  can  it  be  that  they  will  fall  away  before  all  their  trials  ?  " 

To  one  of  these  last  days  in  Perea  we  are  indebted  for  the  parable  of 
the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican.  Jesus  had  spoken  mucli  of  praj-er,  but  the 
religion  of  the  day  was  so  lai'goly  mechanical,  that  they  were  in  danger 
of  mistaking  the  outward  form  for  the  substance.  Only  repeated  lessons 
could  guard  them  from  the  lifeless  formality  of  the  Rabbis,  with  whom  the 
most  sacred  duties  had  sunk  to  cold  outwai-d  rites.  Self-righteous  pride, 
moreover,  was  the  characteristic  of  much  of  the  current  religiousness, 
and  was,  in  fact,  a  natural  result  of  the  externalism  prevailing.  To  show 
the  true  nature  of  devotion  pleasing  to  God,  He  related  the  following 
parable  : — 

"Two  men,"  said  He,  "went  up  to  the  Temple  to  pray  at  the  same  time, 
the  hour  of  prayer.  The  one  was  a  Pharisee,  the  other  a  Publican.  The 
Pharisee,  who  had  seen  the  Publican  enter  the  Temple  with  him,  stood 
apart,  his  eyes  towards  the  Holy  of  Holies,  and  began  to  pray  thus :  '  0 
God,  I  thank  Thee  that  I  do  not  belong  to  the  common  multitude  of  man- 
kind, whom  Thou  hast  rejected — to  the  covetous,  the  unjust,  the  adul- 
terous. I  thank  Thee  that  I  am  not  what  so  many  men  are,  what  this 
Publican  here  before  Thee,  is.  He  knows  nothing  of  fasting  or  of  tithes, 
but  I  fast  every  Monday  and  every  Thursday,  and  I  give  the  priests  and 
Levites  the  tenth  not  only  of  all  I  have,  but  of  all  I  may  gain,  which  is 
more  than  the  Law  requires.' 

"The  Publican  meanwhile,  feeling  that  he  was  a  sinner,  stopped  far 
behind  the  Pharisee,  coming  no  farther  into  the  sacred  court  than  its  very 


58G  THE  LirE  OF  cmusT. 

edge  :  for  he  shrank  from  a  near  a] )p roach  to  God.  Nor  could  ho  dare,  in 
his  lowly  penitence,  to  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  to  heaven,  far  less  his 
head  and  his  hands,  hut,  with  bent  head,  smote  on  his  breast  in  his  sorrow, 
and  said,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  the  sinner.' 

"  The  Pharisee  had  offered  only  a  proud,  cold  thanksgiving  for  his  own 
merits ;  the  Publican  a  humble  cry  for  mercy. 

"  Believe  me,  this  Publican,  whom  the  Pharisee  gave  a  place  among  the 
extortionate,  the  unjust  and  the  impure,  received  favour  from  God,  and 
returned  to  his  home  forgiven  and  accepted  ;  but  the  Pliarisec  went  away 
unjustified.  For,  as  I  have  often  said,  every  one  who  thinks  highly  of 
himself  in  religious  things  will  be  humbled  before  God,  and  he  wlio 
humbles  himself  will  be  honoured  before  Him." 

Among  the  questions  of  the  day  fiercely  debated  between  the  great  rival 
schools  of  Hillel  and  Shammai,  no  one  was  more  so  than  that  of  divorce. 
The  school  of  Hillel  contended  that  a  man  had  a  right  to  divorce  his  wife 
for  any  cause  he  might  assign ;  if  it  were  no  more  than  his  having  ceased 
to  love  her,  or  his  having  seen  one  he  liked  better,  or  her  having  cooked  a 
dinner  badly.  The  school  of  Shammai,  on  the  contrary,  held  that  divorce 
could  be  issued  only  for  the  crime  of  adultery  and  offences  against 
chastity.  If  it  were  possible  to  get  Jesus  to  pronounce  in  favour  of  either 
school,  the  hostility  of  the  other  would  be  roused,  and,  hence,  to  broach 
this  subject  for  His  opinion,  seemed  a  favourable  chance  for  compromising 
Him. 

Some  of  the  Pharisees,  therefore,  took  an  opportunity  of  raising  the 
question.  "  Is  it  lawful,"  they  asked,  "  to  put  away  one's  wife,  when  a 
man  thinks  fit,  for  any  cause  he  is  pleased  to  assign  ?  Or,  do  you  think 
there  are  exceptions  to  this  rule  ?  " 

There  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  lofty  morality  of  Jesus  would  condemn 
a  mere  human  custom  which  was  corrupting  the  whole  civil  and  domestic 
life  of  the  nation,  and  undermining  all  honour,  chastity,  and  love.  Ho 
had  already  answered  the  question  fully,  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in 
which  He  had  taught  that  arbitrary  divorce  was  not  permitted ;  but  that 
was  long  since,  and  He  was  now  in  a  difTcrent  part  of  the  country.  It  was 
quite  in  accordance  with  the  habit  of  the  day  to  appeal  to  any  Kabbi  on  a 
disputed  religious  question  or  scruple,  on  lighter  or  weightier  points ;  it 
gratified  the  universal  love  for  controversy,  and  gave  an  opportunity  for 
showing  dialectical  wit  and  sharpness.  But  the  questioners  gained  little 
by  trying  their  skill  on  Jesus. 

"  Have  you  never  read,"  answered  He,  "  that  the  Creator  of  men  made 
man  and  woman  at  the  same  time,  in  the  very  beginning  of  our  race,  and 
gave  them  to  each  other  as  husband  and  wife  ?  And  do  you  not  know 
that  so  intimate  was  the  relation  tlius  instituted,  that  close  though  the 
connection  l)e  between  parents  and  children,  God  has  said  that  that  be- 
tween man  and  wife  is  so  much  closer,  that  a  son,  who,  before,  was  under 
his  parents,  and  was  bound  more  closely  to  them  than  to  any  other  persons 
in  the  world,  is  to  separate  himself  from  his  father  and  mother  when  he 
marries,  and  to  form  a  still  nearer  relationship  with  his  wife — such  a 
relationship  that  the  two  shall  become,  as  it  were,  one.     As  soon  as  a  man 


IN    PEEEA.  587 

and  woman  are  married,  therefore,  the  two  make,  together,  ouly  one  bemg. 
But  since  it  is  God  who  has  joined  them  thus,  divorce  is  the  putting 
asunder  by  man  of  what  God  has  made  into  one.  Marriage  is  a  sacred 
union,  and  man  is  not  to  regard  it  as  something  which  he  can  undo  at  his 
pleasure." 

ISTothing  could  be  said  against  this  from  natural  grounds,  but  the  objec- 
tion lay  ready  that  the  Law  of  Moses  was  not  so  strict,  and  a  prospect 
offered  of  forcing  Jesus  either  to  contradict  Himself,  or  to  pronounce 
openly  against  the  great  founder  of  the  nation.  "  If  this  be  so,"  said  they, 
"  how  comes  it  that  Moses  permitted  a  man  to  divorce  liis  wife  ?  for  you 
know  that  he  says  that  writings  of  divorcement  might  be  given  where 
a  divorce  was  wished,  and  these  dissolved  the  marriage." 

"  Moses,"  replied  our  Lord,  "  did,  indeed,  suffer  you  to  put  away  your    > 
wives,  to  prevent  a  greater  evil.     He  did  so,  as  a  statesman  and  a  law-    | 
giver,  from  the  necessities  of  the  age,  which  made  any  better  law  imprac-    I 
ticable.     Our  fathers  were  too  rude  and  headstrong  to  permit  his  doing 
more.     But,  though  he  did  not  prohibit  divorce,  because  the  feelings  of 
the  times  did  not  allow  him  to  do  so,  it  does  not  follow  from  this  that  his 
action  in  this  matter  was  the  original  law  of  the  Creator,  or  that  conscience 
and  religion  sanction  such  separations.     I  say,  therefore,  that  whoever 
puts  away  his  wife,  except  for  fornication — which  destroys  the  veiy  essence 
of  marriage  by  dissolving  the  oneness  it  had   formed— and  shall  marry 
another,  commits  adultery;  and  whoever  marries  her  who  is  put  away  for 
any  other  cause  commits  adultery,  because  the  woman  is  still,  in  God's 
sight,  wife  of  him  who  has  divorced  her." 

This  statement  was  of  far  deeper  moment  that  the  mere  silencing  of  l 
malignant  spies.  It  was  designed  to  set  forth  for  all  ages  the  law  of 
His  New  Kingdom  in  the  supreme  matter  of  family  life.  It  swept  away 
for  ever  from  His  Society  the  conception  of  woman  as  a  mere  toy  or  slave  A 
of  man,  and  based  true  relations  of  the  sexes  on  the  eternal  foundation  of 
truth,  right,  honour,  and  love.  To  ennoble  the  House  and  the  Family,  by 
raising  woman  to  her  true  position,  was  essential  to  the  future  stability  of 
His  Kingdom,  as  one  of  purity  and  spiritual  worth.  By  making  marriage 
indissoluble  He  proclaimed  the  equal  rights  of  woman  and  man  within  the 
limits  of  the  family,  and,  in  this,  gave  their  charter  of  nobility  to  the 
mothers  of  the  world.  For  her  nobler  position  in  the  Christian  era,  com- 
pared with  that  granted  her  in  antiquity,  Avoman  is  indebted  to  Jesus 
Christ. 

When  an  opportunity  offered,  the  disciples  asked  fuller  instruction 
on  a  matter  so  grave.  Customs  or  opinions,  supported,  apparently,  by  a 
national  law,  and  that  law  Divine— customs,  the  rightness  of  which  has 
never  before  been  doubted— are  hard  to  uproot,  however  good  the  grounds 
on  which  they  are  challenged.  Hence,  even  the  Twelve  felt  the  strictness 
of  the  new  law  introduced  by  their  Master  respecting  marriage,  and  frankly 
told  Him,  that  if  a  man  were  bound  to  his  wife  as  He  had  said,  it  seemed 
to  them  better  not  to  marry, 

"  With  respect  to  marrying  or  not  marrying,"  replied  Christ,  "  your  say- 
ing that  it  is  good  for  a  man  not  to  do  so  is  one  which  cannot  be  received 


588  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

by  all  men,  but  only  by  those  to  ■^^•llom  the  moral  power  to  act  on  it  has 
been  given  by  God.  Some  do  not  marry  from  natural  causes,  and  there 
are  some  who  voluntarily  keep  in  the  single  state,  that  they  may  give 
themselves  with  an  entire  devotion  to  the  service  of  my  Kingdom.  Let 
him  among  you  who  feels  able  to  act  on  the  lofty  principle  of  denying 
himself  the  nobility  and  holiness  of  family  life,  that  he  may  with  more 
entire  devotion  consecrate  himself  to  my  service,  do  so."  Self-sacrifice, 
in  this,  as  in  all  things,  was  left  by  Jesus  to  the  conscience  and  heart. 
Even  His  apostles  were  left  free  to  marry  or  remain  single,  as  they  chose, 
nor  can  any  depreciation  of  the  married  state  be  wrung  from  His  wordsj 
except  by  a  manifest  perversion  of  their  spirit. 

It  is  significant  that  in  the  South,  as  in  Galilee,  the  mothers  of  house- 
holds, though  not  expressly  named,  turned  with  peculiar  tenderness  and 
reverence  to  the  new  Prophet  and  Rabbi.  They  were  doubtless  encouraged 
to  do  so  by  the  sight  of  the  women  who  now,  as  always,  accompanied  Ilim 
on  His  journeys  ;  but  the  goodness  that  beamed  in  His  looks,  and  breathed 
in  His  every  word,  drew  them  still  more.  Indifferent  to  the  hard  and 
often  worthless  disputes  and  questions  which  engaged  the  other  sex,  they 
sought  only  a  blessing  on  the  loved  ones  of  their  hearts  and  homes,  con- 
tented if  Jesus  would  lay  His  hands  on  their  infants,  and  utter  over  them 
a  word  of  blessing. 

A  beautiful  custom  led  parents  to  bring  their  children  at  an  early  age 
to  the  sjaiagogue,  that  they  might  have  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  the 
elders.  "  After  the  father  of  the  child,"  says  the  Talmud,  "  had  laid  his 
hands  on  his  child's  head,  he  led  him  to  the  elders,  one  by  one,  and  they 
also  blessed  him,  and  prayed  that  he  might  grow  up  famous  in  the  Law, 
faithful  in  marriage,  and  abundant  in  good  works."  Children  were  thus 
brought,  also,  to  any  Rabbi  of  special  holiness,  and  hence  they  had  been 
presented  already  more  than  once  before  Jesus.  Now,  on  this.  His  last 
journey,  little  children  were  again  brought  to  Him  that  He  might  put  His 
hands  on  them,  and  pray  for  a  blessing  on  their  future  life.  To  the  dis- 
ciples, however,  it  seemed  only  troubling  their  Master,  and  they  chid  the 
parents  for  bringing  them.  But  the  feeling  of  Christ  to  children  was 
very  different  from  theirs.  To  look  into  their  innocent  artless  eyes  must 
have  been  a  relief  after  enduring  those  of  spies  and  malignant  enemies. 
He  Himself  had  the  ideal  childlike  spirit,  and  He  delighted  to  sec  His 
own  image  in  little  ones.  Purity,  truthfulness,  simplicity,  sincerity, 
docility,  and  loving  dependence,  shone  out  on  Him  from  them,  and  made 
them  at  all  times  His  favourite  types  for  His  followers.  The  Apostles 
needed  the  lessons  their  characteristics  impressed,  and  though  He  had 
enforced  them  before.  He  gladly  took  every  opportunity  of  repeating  them. 

"  Let  the  little  children  come  to  me,"  said  Jesus,  "  and  do  not  forbid 
them,  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  given  only  to  such  as  have  a  childlike 
spirit  and  nature  like  theirs."  Instead  of  being  too  young  for  the  bestowal 
of  His  blessing,  He  saw  in  their  simplicity  and  innocence  the  fond  earnest 
of  the  character  he  sought  to  reproduce  in  mankind.  The  citizens  of  His 
Kingdom  must  become  like  them  by  change  of  heart  and  a  lowly  spiritual 
life.     Stooping  down,  therefore,  He  took  them  up  in  His  arms,  put  His 


IN   PEREA.  589 

hands  on  them,  and  blessed  them.  Even  the  least  incidents  were  thus  ever 
turned  to  the  highest  uses. 

The  need  of  this  childlike  spirit,  and  the  sad  results  of  its  absence,  must 
have  been  brought  home  to  the  Apostles  by  an  occurrence  in  their  next 
day's  journey.  Starting  southwards,  on  the  way  to  Jerusalem,  a  young 
man,  whose  exemplary  character  had  already  made  him  a  ruler  of  the  local 
synagogue,  came  running  after  Him,  and,  approaching  Him  with  great 
respect,  kneeled  before  Him,  as  was  usual  before  a  venerated  Eabbi. 
"  Teacher,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  greatly  thank  Thee  if  Thou  wilt  ease  my  mind. 
I  have  laboured  diligently  to  do  good  works  of  all  kinds  prescribed  by  the 
Law,  but  I  do  not  feel  satisfied  that  I  have  done  enough ;  I  am  not  sure, 
after  all,  that  I  shall  inherit  eternal  life  in  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah. 
Pray,  tell  me  what  special  good  work  can  I  do  to  secure  this." 

'•'  Why  do  you  ask  me  what  is  right  to  do  ?  "  answered  Jesus.  "  Tour 
question  is  superfluous,  for  it  answers  itself.  There  is  only  one  Absolute 
Good— that  is,  God.  The  good  act  respecting  which  you  inquire  can  be 
nothing  else  than  perfect  obedience  to  His  holy  will.  If  you  really  would 
enter  into  life  eternal,  you  must  keep  the  Commandments  given  you  by 
Him." 

The  young  man  expected  to  hear  some  new  and  special  commands, 
requiring  unwonted  pains,  and  securing  correspondingly  great  merit  by 
faultless  obedience.  The  answer  of  Jesus  was  too  general  to  help  him  in 
this.     He,  therefore,  asked,  what  commands  Christ  particularly  meant. 

To  his  astonishment  and  mortification,  instead  of  naming  some  cere- 
monial injunctions,  as  the  Eabbis  would  have  done,  Jesus  simply  quoted 
some  of  the  well-known  commandments  of  the  Second  Tal)le :  "  Thou 
shalt  not  kill,"  "  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery,"  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal," 
"  Thou  shalfc  not  bear  false  witness,"  "  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother," 
closing  the  list  with  the  greatest  of  all :  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
as  thyself,"  which  was  thus  put  last  as  the  one  by  which  He  intended  to 
bring  the  young  man  to  the  test. 

These  were  only  the  common  duties  required  of  all  men,  and,  as  such, 
had  a  conventional  fulfilment  which  satisfied  human  standards.  Their 
scope  was  very  different,  however,  in  the  eyes  of  Jesus,  and  this  the  young 
man  presently  felt. 

His  upright  and  honest  life  brought  no  blush  at  the  enumeration. 
Humbly,  except  for  the  secret  pride  of  self -righteousness,  and  with  all 
reverent  docility,  he  replied  : 

"  I  believe  I  can  say  that  I  have  strictly  kept  all  these  commands.  In 
what  respect  do  I  still  come  short  ?  " 

The  question  itself  revealed  his  spiritual  deficiencies.  It  showed  that, 
however  sincere  in  his  efforts  after  such  a  life  as  would  secure  heaven,  he 
had  not  risen  above  the  outward  service  of  the  letter,  and  had  realized 
neither  the  spirit  of  the  commandments  as  a  whole,  nor,  in  particular,  the 
infinite  breadth  of  that  which  enjoined  love  to  his  neighbour.  Had  he 
seen  this  in  its  true  grandeur,  it  would  have  hinted  a  higher  moral  task 
than  merely  legal  conceptions  of  duty  had  taught  him,  and  have  supplied, 
at  the  same  time,  an  impulse  towards  its  fulfilment 


590  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

Jesus  I'ead  his  heart  in  a  moment,  and  was  -won  by  the  gnilclessnoss  of 
his  answer  and  question,  and  by  the  evident  wortli  of  his  character.  As 
He  looked  at  him,  so  earnest,  so  liumble,  so  admirable  in  his  life  and  spirit, 
He  loved  him.  Could  he  only  stand  the  testing  demand  that  must  now  be 
made,  he  would  pass  into  the  citizenship  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

"  You  lack  one  thing  yet,"  said  Jesus,  therefore,  "  if  you  really  wish  to 
be  perfect.  Had  you  vmderstood  the  commands  of  God  in  their  depth  and 
breadth,  you  would  not  have  asked  if  you  could  do  anything  more  than 
you  had  done ;  their  living  power  in  you  would  have  suggested  continually 
fresli  duties.  When  you  ask  me  to  tell  you  what  next  to  do,  it  shows  that 
you  think  only  of  tasks  imposed  from  without,  and  do  not  act  from  a 
principle  in  your  ov/n  soul.  If  your  desire  for  eternal  life  be  supreme,  as 
it  ought  to  be,  go  home,  sell  all  that  you  have,  and  give  what  you  get  for 
it  to  the  poor,  and  instead  of  the  earthl}'  riches  thus  given  in  charity,  yon 
Avill  have  treasure  in  heaven.  Tlien,  come  to  me,  be  my  disciple,  and  Ijear 
your  cross  after  me,  as  I  bear  mine." 

The  demand,  great  though  it  seems,  was  exactly  suited  to  the  particular 
case.  It  was  a  special  test  in  a  special  instance,  tliough  underneath  it  lay 
the  unconditional  self-sacrifice  and  self-surrender  for  Christ,  required  from 
all  His  disciples.  It  could  not  fail  to  bring  the  young  man  to  a  clearer 
self-knowledge,  and  thus,  to  a  wholly  new  conception  of  what  true  religion 
demanded.  The  only  way  to  lead  him  to  a  healthier  moral  state  was  to 
humble  him,  by  a  disclosure  of  weakness  hitherto  unsusjoected.  He  had 
fancied  himself  willing  to  do  whatever  could  be  required;  he  could  now 
see  if  he  really  were  so.  He  had  thought  he  cared  for  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  gaining  heaven;  he  could  now  judge  for  himself  if  ho  had 
not  erred. 

It  might  have  been  hoped  that  this  lofty  counsel,  the  repetition  of  that 
which  had  been  so  often  given  to  others  before,  would  have  roused  one  so 
earnest  to  a  noble  enthusiasm,  before  which  all  lower  thoughts  would  have 
lost  their  jDOwer.  The  love  he  had  ins])ired  in  Jesus  must  have  shown 
itself  towards  him  in  every  look  and  tone ;  there  must  have  been  every 
desire  to  attract  and  win,  none  to  repel.  But  the  one  absolute,  constant 
condition  of  acceptance  demanded  from  all — supreme,  unrestricted  devo- 
tion to  Himself  and  His  cause,  and  willingness  to  sacrifice  all  human  ties 
and  possessions,  or  even  life,  for  His  sake— could  in  no  case  be  lowered. 
Poor,  friendless,  outlawed,  Jesus  abated  no  jot  of  His  awful  claims,  loftier 
than  human  monarch  had  ever  dreamed  of  makinc^,  on  all  who  sonofht 
citizenship  in  His  Kingdom. 

The  test  exacted  was  fatal,  at  least  for  the  time.  It  was  precisely  thai 
which  the  young  man  had  least  expected,  and  was  a  thousand  times  harder 
than  any  legal  enforcements;  painful  and  protracted  even  as  those  by 
which  the  highest  grade  of  ceremonial  holiness  was  attained.  Had  Jesus 
invited  him  to  be  His  disciple  without  requiring  the  condition  He  had  so 
often  declared  indispensable,  there  would  have  been  instant,  delighted 
acceptance.  But  that  could  not  be.  He  could  not  say  "  Be  my  disciple," 
till  He  had  secured  his  supreme  devotion. 

Kich,  and  already  a  magistrate— for  Church  and   State  with   the  Jews 


IN    PEREA.  591 

were  identical — tlie  demand  staggered  and  overwhelmed  the  young  man. 
A  moment's  thought,  and  his  broad  acres  and  social  position,  which  he 
must  give  up  for  ever  if  he  would  follow  Jesus,  raised  a  whole  army  of 
hindrances  and  hesitations.  The  condition  imposed  had  no  limitation,  but 
neither  had  his  own  question  to  which  it  was  a  reply.  He  had  been 
touched  where  weakest,  but  this  was  exactly  what  his  repeated  request 
demanded.  Why  should  Jesus  have  asked  less  from  him  than  from  other 
disciples  ?  It  was,  doubtless,  harder  for  a  rich  than  for  a  poor  man  to 
leave  all,  but  there  must,  in  no  case,  be  room  for  doubt  of  the  entire  sin- 
cerity of  those  admitted  as  disciples,  and  this  could  be  tested  only  by  their 
readiness  to  sacrifice  all  to  become  so.  It  was  less,  besides,  to  demand 
this,  as  things  were,  for  discipleship  would  only  too  surely  involve,  very 
soon,  not  only  loss  of  all  earthly  goods,  but  life-long  trials,  and  even  death. 

But  the  world  got  the  better  in  the  young  man's  heart,  and  he  went  away 
sorrowful,  at  the  thought  that  he  was  voluntarily  excluding  him.self  from 
the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah.  Yet,  the  wide  fields,  the  rich  possessions— 
how  could  he  give  them  up  ? 

"  How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of 
God!"  said  Jesus,  as  the  candidate  for  discipleship  went  away,  evidently 
in  great  mental  distress.  "It  is  easier,"  continued  He,  "to  use  a  proverb 
you  often  hear,  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a 
rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 

The  words  fell  with  a  new  and  perplexing  sound  on  the  oars  of  the 
apostles.  Like  all  Jews,  they  had  been  accustomed  to  regard  worldly 
prosperity  as  a  special  mark  of  the  favour  of  God— for  their  ancient  Scrip- 
tures seemed  always  to  connect  the  enjoyment  of  temporal  blessings  with 
obedience  to  the  Divine  law.  They  still,  moreover,  secretly  cherished  the 
hope  of  an  earthly  kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  in  which  liches  would  be 
showered  on  His  favourites,  and,  even  apart  from  all  this,  if  it  were  hard 
to  enter  this  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  except  by  stooping  to  absolute 
poverty,  it  seemed  as  if  very  few  could  be  saved  at  all. 

"'  Children,  how  hard  is  it  for  them  that  trust  in  riches  to  enter  into  the 
Kingdom  of  God,"  repeated  Jesus,  seeing  their  wonder  and  evident  uneasi^ 
ness.  "  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for 
a  rich  man,  who  clings  to  his  riches,  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 

"  Who,  then,  can  be  saved  ?  "  asked  some  of  them. 

"  With  men  it  is  impossible,"  replied  Jesus,  fixing  His  eyes  earnestly  on 
them,  "but  not  with  God;  for  with  God  all  things  ai'e  possible.  He  can 
bestow  heavenly  grace  to  wean  the  heart  from  worldly  riches ;  apart  from 
this,  the  world  will  prevail." 

Peter,  especially,  had  listened  with  deep  attention  to  all  that  had  passed, 
and  had  been  mentally  applying  it  to  the  case  of  his  fellow-disciples  and 
himself.  Their  minds  were  still  full  of  the  Jewish  idea  of  merit  before 
God,  and  of  a  claim  to  corresponding  reward.  When  Jesus  summoned 
them  to  follow  Him,  they  had  been  exactly  in  the  young  man's  position, 
though  they  had  not  had  so  much  to  surrender.  They  had  given  up  every- 
thing for  Him,  at  His  first  invitation — their  families,  houses,  occupations, 
and  prospects.     However  little  in  themselves,  these  had  been  the  whole 


592  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

world  to  them.  It  seemed  only  natural,  therefore,  that  they  should  have 
a  proportion  of  that  treasure  which  Jesus  had  promised  the  young  man,  if 
he  forsook  all  for  His  sake. 

In  kcejiing  with  his  natural  frank  impulsiveness,  Peter  could  not  restrain 
his  thoughts,  and  asked  Jesus  directly  what  he  and  his  fellow- Apostles 
would  have  for  their  loyalty  to  Him  ? 

Knowing  the  honest  simplicity  of  the  Twelve,  their  Master,  instead 
of  reiDroving  their  boldness,  cheered  them  with  words  which  must  have 
sounded  inconceivably  grand  to  Galilaean  fishermen. 

"  Be  assured  that  at  the  final  triumph  of  my  Kingdom,  when  all  things 
shall  be  delivered  from  their  present  corruption,  and  restored,  through  me 
and  my  work,  to  the  glory  they  had  before  sin  entered  the  world ;  when  I, 
the  now  despised  Son  of  man,  shall  come  again,  seated  on  the  throne  of 
my  glory,  you  who  have  followed  me  in  my  humiliation,  will  be  exalted  to 
kingly  dignity,  and  shall  sit,  each  of  you,  on  his  throne,  to  judge  the 
twelve  tribes  of  Israel.  Yea,  more;  every  one  who  gives  up  his  brethren, 
or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  children,  or  lands,  or  houses,  that  he 
may  the  more  unreservedly  sjjread  my  Gospel  and  honour  my  name,  will 
be  rewarded  a  hundredfold.  Even  in  this  present  life  he  will  receive  back 
again  richly  all  he  has  left — houses,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  and  mothersi 
and  children ;  for  he  will  find  among  those  who  believe  in  me,  a  compen- 
sation for  all ;  he  will  regard  and  be  allowed  freely  to  use  their  means  as 
his  own,  and  be  welcomed  by  them  with  more  than  brotherly  friendship. 
But,  with  all  this,  he  will  have  to  bear  persecution.  In  the  future  world, 
moreover,  he  will  have  a  still  greater  reward,  for  there  he  will  inherit 
everlasting  life. 

"  But,"  added  He,  by  way  of  warning,  "  do  not  trust  to  your  having 
been  the  first  to  follow  me.  For  the  rewards  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
will  be  like  those  given  by  a  householder  who  had  a  vineyard,  and,  needing 
labourers  for  it,  went  out  eai'ly  in  the  morning  to  hire  them.  Having 
found  some,  he  agreed  to  give  them  a  denarius  a  day,  and  sent  them  into 
the  vineyard.  Going  out  again  about  the  third  hour — nine  o'clock — he 
saw  others  standing  idle  in  the  market-place,  and  sent  them  also  into  the 
vineyard,  making  no  bargain  with  them,  however,  but  bidding  them  trust 
him  that  he  Avould  give  them  what  was  just.  He  did  the  same  at  the  sixth 
and  at  the  ninth  hours.  Finally,  he  went  out  at  the  eleventh  hour,  and 
found  still  others  standing  about,  and  asked  why  they  had  stayed  there  all 
the  day,  idle.  '  Because  no  one  has  hired  us,'  replied  they.  '  Go  ye  also 
into  the  vineyard,'  said  he,  '  and  you  shall  receive  whatever  is  right.' 

"  When  the  evening  was  come,  the  lord  of  the  vineyard  bade  his  overseer 
call  the  labourers,  and  pay  them  all  the  same  sum — the  denarius,  for  which 
he  had  agreed  with  the  first.  He  was  also  to  begin  with  those  who  came 
into  the  vineyard  last. 

"  When  they  came,  therefore,  who  were  hired  at  the  eleventh  hour,  they 
received  each  a  denarius.  But  when  the  first  came,  they  supposed  they 
should  have  received  more ;  but  they  also  received,  each,  only  the  same 
amount.  And  when  they  received  it,  they  murmured  against  the  house- 
holder, saying,  '  Those  who  came  in  last  did  only  one  hour's  work,  and 


IN   PEREA.  593 

thou  hasfc  made  them  equal  to  us,  wlio  bore  the  scorching  wind  from  the 
desert  at  sunrise,  and  the  heat  of  the  day.'  But  he  answered  one  of  them, 
'  Friend,  I  do  thee  no  wrong ;  didst  not  thou  agree  w'ith  me  for  a  denarius  ? 
Take  what  is  yours,  and  go ;  I  desire  to  give  the  same  to  those  who  came 
in  last,  as  unto  thee.  Is  it  not  lawful  for  me  to  do  what  I  will  in  my  own 
affairs  ?     Is  thine  eye  evil  because  I  am  good  ?  ' 

•'  The  householder  thus  made  the  first  last,  and  the  last  first,  because 
the  first  had  been  working  for  hire,  while  the  others  had  simply  trusted 
his  promise.  He  who  works  in  my  kingdom  for  the  sake  of  a  reward  here- 
after, may  do  his  work  well,  but  he  honours  me  less  than  others  who  trust 
in  me  without  thinking  of  future  gain.  The  spirit  in  which  you  labour 
for  mo  gives  your  service  its  value.  He  who  is  called  late  in  life,  and 
serves  me  unselfishly,  will  stand  higher  at  the  great  day  than  he  who  has 
served  me  longer,  but  with  a  less  noble  motive.  Many  are  called  to  join 
my  kingdom  and  work  in  it,  but  few  show  themselves  especially  worthy 
of  honour  by  their  spirit  and  zeal.  If  the  first  find  themselves  last,  it  will 
be  their  own  fault ;  for  though  no  one  can  claim  reward  as  his  due  in  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  yet  I  give  it,  of  favour,  to  those  first  who  serve  me  most 
purely.  He,  I  repeat,  who  works  most  devotedly,  without  thought  of 
reward,  will  be  first,  though,  perhaps,  last  to  be  called ;  he  will  be  chosen 
to  honour,  while  others,  less  zealous  and  loving,  though  earlier  called,  will 
remain  imdistiaguished." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  fitted  to  check  any  tendency  to  self- 
importance  and  pride,  so  natural  in  men  raised  to  a  jjosition  so  incon- 
ceivably above  their  original  station.  ISTor  was  there  room,  henceforth, 
for  any  mercenary  thoughts,  even  of  future  reward,  for  the  discharge  of 
their  duty.  They  could  not  forget,  that,  though  first  to  enter  the  vineyard 
of  the  New  Kingdom,  they  were  yet,  so  far,  on  a  footing  with  all  v/ho 
should  follow  them,  that  the  spiritual  worth  of  their  work  alone  determined 
their  ultimate  honour.  The  special  reward  promised  by  their  Master  was 
a  free  gift  of  God,  not  the  payment  of  a  debt,  and  depended  on  their  own 
spirit  and  zeal. 

They  were  now  approaching  the  end  of  their  journey,  for  they  were  near 
Jericho,  at  which  the  road  struck  directly  west  to  Jerusalem.  Nisan,  the 
month  of  the  Passover,  had  already  come,  and  only  a  few  days  more 
remained  of  our  Saviour's  life.  Nature  was  putting  on  its  spring  beauty, 
and  throngs  of  early  pilgrims  were  passing  to  the  Holy  City.  All  around 
was  joy  and  gladness,  bn.t,  nevertheless,  a  deep  gloom  hung  over  the  little 
company  of  Jesus.  Everything  on  the  way — the  constant  disputes  with 
the  Rabbis,  the  warning  about  Antipas,  the  very  solemnity  of  the  recent 
teachings — combined  to  fill  their  minds  with  an  undefined  terror.  They 
had  shrunk  from  visiting  Bethany,  because  it  was  near  Jerusalem ;  for 
they  knew  that  the  authorities  were  on  the  watch  to  arrest  their  Master, 
and  put  Him  to  death.  He  had  had  to  flee  from  that  village,  first  to 
Ephraim,  and  then,  over  the  Jordan,  to  Perea,  and  yet  He  was  now  de- 
libei'ately  walking  ini^  the  very  jaws  of  danger.  They  had  marched 
steadily  southwards  tlirough  the  woody  highlands  of  Gilead ;  they  had 
passed  the  rushing  waters  of  the  Jal^bok  and  its  tributaries,  and  seen,  for 

Q  Q 


5U4  TUE    LIFE    or    ClilUST. 

a  moment,  once  more,  the  spot  where  Jolm  had  closed  his  mission.  The 
distant  mountains  of  Machaerns  now  threw  their  shadows  over  tlieir  route, 
and,  everywhere,  the  recollections  of  the  great  herald  of  their  Master  met 
them.  Mount  ISTebo,  where  Moses  was  buried,  and  the  range  of  Attaroth, 
where  John's  mutilated  corpse  had  been  laid  to  rest,  were  within  sight. 
Everything  in  the  associations  of  the  journey  was  solemn,  and  they  knew 
their  national  history  too  well  not  to  fear  that,  for  Jesus  to  enter  Jeru- 
salem, would  be  to  share  the  sad  fate  of  the  prophets  of  old,  whom  it  had 
received  only  to  murder.  It  was  clear  that  there  could  be  but  one  issue, 
and  no  less  so  that  He  Avas  voluntarily  going  to  His  death.  The  calm 
resolution  with  which  He  thus  carried  out  His  purpose  awed  them ;  for, 
so  far  from  showing  hesitation.  He  walked  at  their  head,  while  they  could 
only  follow  with  excited  alarm. 

Yet,  their  ideas  were  sadly  confused,  and  the  hope  that  things  might 
result  very  differently  alternated  with  their  fears.  The  old  dream  of  an 
earthly  kingdom  still  clung  to  them,  and  they  fancied  that,  though  Jesus 
might  ex]oect  to  be  killed  in  the  national  rising  which  He  would,  perhaps, 
bring  about  at  the  approaching  feast.  He  might  be  more  fortunate,  and 
live  to  establish  a  great  Messianic  monarchy. 

To  dissipate  such  an  illusion.  He  had  already  told  them,  twice,  exactly 
what  was  before  Him ;  but  to  prepare  them,  if  possible,  for  the  shock 
which  the  sad  realization  of  His  words  was  so  soon  to  bring.  He  once 
more  recapitulated,  with  greater  minuteness  than  ever,  Ayhat  He  knew, 
with  Divine  certainty,  awaited  His  entrance  into  Jerusalem. 

"  Behold,"  said  He,  "  we  are  going  up  to  Jerusalem,  and  the  Son  of  man 
will  bo  delivered  to  the  chief  priests  and  scribes,  and  they  will  condemn 
Him  to  death  " — they,  and  no  others ;  for,  as  heads  of  the  Old  Kingdom 
of  God,  now  coi'rupt  and  dying,  they  had  rejected  Him — "and  they  will 
deliver  Him  to  the  Eomans,  to  mock,  and  scourge,  and  crucify,  but  the 
third  day  He  shall  rise  again." 

How  hard  it  is  to  uproot  strong  prepossessions  was  shown  within  a  fevr 
hours.  In  spite  of  such  repeated  warnings,  not  only  the  Twelve,  but  the 
others  who  followed  Him,  did  not  understand  what  He  meant.  It  is  easj^ 
for  us  to  do  so,  after  the  event ;  but  to  anticipate  the  explanation  thus 
given  must  have  been  well-nigh  impossible  to  minds  pre-occupied  with 
ideas  so  radically  opposed  to  it. 

The  mention  of  thrones,  as  in  reversion  for  the  Twelve  at  "  the  Coming  " 
of  their  Master  in  His  glory,  had  neutralized  the  announcement  of  His 
death.  His  open  triumph  was  expected  as  very  near  at  hand ;  His  death 
they  did  not  understand,  and  could  not  reconcile  with  His  other  state- 
ments, for,  indeed,  they  did  not  wish  to  do  so. 

Dreams  of  ambition,  thus  kindled,  had  risen,  especially  in  the  minds 
of  James  and  John,  who,  with  Peter,  were  the  most  honoured  of  the 
Apostles.  They  had  been  in  a  better  social  position  than  many  of  their 
brethren,  and,  with  Salome,  their  mother,  had  freely  given  all  they  had, 
to  the  cause  of  their  Master.  Ashamed  to  tell  Him  their  thoughts 
directly,  they  availed  themselves  of  Salome,  whom,  perhaps.  He  might 
the  more  readily  hear,  as  older  than  they ;  as  a  woman ;    perhaps  as  Ilis 


IN    PEREA.     .  595 

mother's  sister,  and  as  one  who  had  shoAvn  herself,  hkc  her  sons,  His  true 
friend. 

She  now  came,  therefore,  with  them,  in  secret,  and,  falling  on  her  knees, 
as  was  the  custom  where  reverence  was  intended,  and  as  was  especially 
due  to  one  whom  she  regarded  as  the  future  great  Messianic  King,  told 
Him  she  was  about  to  ask  a  surpassing  favour.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  asked 
Jesus.  "  Say,"  answered  she,  "  that  these,  my  two  sons,  may  sit,  like  the 
chief  ministers  of  other  kings,  at  Thy  feet,  on  Thy  right  hand  and  Thy 
left,  on  the  first  step  of  the  throne,  when  Thou  settest  up  the  Kingdom." 

So  different,  as  yet,  were  the  two  from  what  they  were  afterwards  to 
become,  when  they  had  drunk  more  deeply  of  their  Master's  spirit ! 

"  You  do  not  understand  what  your  request  implies,"  answered  Jesus. 
"The  highest  place  in  my  Kingdom  can  only  be  gained  by  drinking  the 
cup  of  sore  trial,  of  which  I,  myself,  shall  drink  presently,  and  enduring 
the  same  fierce  baj^tism  of  sorrow  and  suffering,  even  to  death,  in  which 
I  am  to  be  plunged.     Do  you  think  you  are  able  to  bear  all  that  ?  " 

In  simple  true-heartedness,  both  answered,  at  once,  that  they  were. 

"You  shall,  indeed,"  replied  Jesus,  "drink  of  my  cup,  and  be  baptized 
with  the  same  baptism  as  I ;  but,  in  my  Kingdom,  no  honours  can  be  given 
from  mere  favour,  as  in  kingdoms  of  the  world.  They  can  be  obtained 
only  by  those  fitted  for  them  by  spiritiial  greatness.  The  one  way  to 
secure  them  is  through  supreme  self-sacrifice  for  my  sake,  and  they  are 
given  by  my  Father  to  those  alone  who  thus  show  themselves  worthy. 
For  such,  indeed,  they  are  prepared  by  Him  already." 

John  and  James  had  striven  to  hide  their  selfish  and  ambitious  request, 
by  coming  to  Jesus  when  He  was  alone,  but  the  Ten,  as  was  inevitable 
soon  heard  of  it,  and  were  indignant  in  the  extreme  at  such  an  unworthy 
attempt  to  forestall  them  in  their  Master's  favour.  Their  own  ambition, 
at  best  only  suppressed,  broke  out,  afresh,  in  a  fierce  storm  of  jealous 
passion.  Such  human  weakness  was  sadly  out  of  place  at  any  time, 
among  the  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Son  of  man,  but  still  more  so, 
novf,  when  He  stood  almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  and  it  must 
have  caused  Him  the  keenest  sorrow.  Calling  round  Him,  therefore,  the 
whole  Twelve,  offenders  and  oiiended.  He  pointed  out  how  utterly  they 
liad  misapprehended  the  nature  of  His  Kingdom,  notwithstanding  all  His 
teaching  through  the  past  years. 

"  You  are  disputing  about  precedence  in  my  Kingdom,"  said  He,  "  as  if 
it  were  like  the  kingdoms  of  the  world.  Once  more,  let  me  warn  you  that 
it  is  wholly  different.  The  kings  of  the  heathen  nations  around  us  lord 
it  over  their  subjects,  and  their  magnates,  under  them,  exercise  authority 
often  more  imperiously  than  their  chiefs.  But  it  is  very  different  in  my 
Kingdom,  and  a  very  different  spirit  must  find  place  among  you,  its  digni- 
taries. He  who  wishes  to  be  great  in  that  Kingdom  can  only  be  so  by 
becoming  the  servant  of  the  others ;  and  he  who  wishes  the  very  highest 
rank,  can  only  be  so  by  becoming  their  slave.  You  may  see  that  it  must 
be  so  from  my  own  case,  your  King  and  Head— for  I,  the  Son  of  man,  came 
not  to  be  ministered  unto,  as  other  khigs  are,  but  to  serve,  and  to  give  up 
even  my  life  as  a  ransom  for  many." 


596  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

The  upland  pastures  of  Perea  were  now  behind  them,  and  the  road  led 
down  to  the  sunken  channel  of  the  Jordan,  and  the  "  divine  district  "  of 
Jericho.  This  small  but  rich  plain  was  the  most  luxuriant  spot  in  Palestine. 
Sloping  gently  upwards  from  the  level  of  the  Dead  Sea,  1,350  feet  below 
the  Mediterranean,  to  the  stern  background  of  the  hills  of  Quarantana, 
it  had  the  climate  of  Lower  Egypt,  and  displayed  the  vegetation  of  the 
tropics.  Its  fig-trees  were  pre-eminently  famous ;  it  was  unique  in  its 
groves  of  palms  of  various  kinds ;  its  crops  of  dates  were  a  proverb ;  the 
balsam-plant,  which  grew  principally  here,  f  nrnished  a  costly  pcrf  nmc,  and 
was  in  great  repute  for  healing  wounds  ;  maize  yielded  a  double  harvest ; 
wheat  ripened  a  whole  month  earlier  than  in  Galilee,  and  iTinumerable  bees 
foiind  a  paradise  in  the  many  aromatic  flowers  and  jilants,  not  a  few 
unknown  elsewhere,  which  filled  the  air  with  odours  and  the  landscape 
with  beaut3^ 

Eising  like  an  amphitheatre  from  amidst  this  luxuriant  scene,  lay  Jencho, 
the  chief  place  east  of  Jerusalem,  on  swelling  slopes,  seven  or  eight  miles 
distance  from  the  Jordan,  and  seven  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  bed, 
from  which  its  gardens  and  groves,  thickly  interspersed  with  mansions, 
and  covering  seventy  furlongs  from  north  to  south,  and  twenty  from  east 
to  west,  were  divided  by  a  strip  of  wilderness.  The  toAvn  had  had  an 
eventful  history.  Once  the  stronghold  of  the  Canaanitcs,  it  was  still,  in 
the  days  of  Christ,  surrounded  by  towers  and  castles.  Thrax  and  Taurus, 
two  of  them,  at  the  entrance  of  the  city,  lay  in  ruins  since  the  time  of 
Pompey,  but  the  old  citadel  Dock,  towered  aloft — dark  with  the  recollec- 
tion that  its  heroic  builder,  Simon  Maccabajus,  and  his  two  sons,  had  been 
murdered  in  its  chambers.  Kypros,  the  last  fortress  built  by  Herod  the 
Great,  who  had  called  it  after  his  mother,  rose  Avhite  in  the  sun  on  the 
south  of  the  town.  The  palace  of  the  Asmonean  kings  stood  amidst 
gardens,  but  it  had  been  deserted  by  royalty  since  the  evil  genius  of  her 
house,  Alexandra,  the  mother-in-law  of  Herod,  and  mother  of  Mariarane, 
had  lived  in  it.  The  great  palace  of  Herod,  in  the  far-famed  groves  of 
palms,  had  been  plundered  and  burned  down  in  the  tumults  that  followed 
his  death,  but  in  its  place  a  grander  structure,  built  by  Archclaus,  had 
risen  amidst  even  finer  gardens,  and  more  copious  and  delightful  streams. 
A  great  theatre  and  spacious  circus,  built  by  Herod,  scandalized  the  Jews, 
not  less  by  their  unholy  amusements  than  by  the  remembrance  that  the 
elders  of  the  nation  had  been  shut  up  in  the  latter  by  the  dying  tyrant,  to 
be  cut  down  at  his  death,  in  revenge  for  the  hatred  borne  him.  Nor  was 
the  murder  of  the  young  Asmonean,  Aristobulus,  in  the  great  pools  which 
suiToundcd  the  old  Asmonean  pal-ace,  forgotten;  nor  the  time  when  Cleo- 
patra had  wrung  the  rich  oasis  from  the  hands  of  Herod,  by  her  spell 
over  her  lover,  Antony.  A  great  stone  aqueduct  of  eleven  arches  brought 
a  copious  supply  of  water  to  the  city,  and  the  Eoman  military  road  ran 
through  it.  The  houses  themselves,  however,  though  showy,  were  not 
substantial,  but  were  built  mostly  of  sun-dried  brick,  like  those  of  Egypt ; 
so  that  now,  as  in  the  similar  cases  of  Babylon,  Nineveh,  or  Egypt,  after 
long  desolation  hardly  a  trace  of  them  remains. 

A  great  multitude  accompanied  Jesus  as  He  drew  near  Jericho — pil- 


IN   PEREA.  5'J7 

grims,  on  foot,  or  on  asses,  or  camels— who  had  coiue  from  all  the  side 
passes  and  cross  roads  of  Perea  and  Galilee.  They  met  at  this  central 
point  to  go  up  to  the  Passover,  at  Jerusalem  ;  not  a  few  with  an  eye  to 
the  trade  with  foreign  j^ilgrims,  driven  so  briskly  in  the  Holy  City  at  this 
season,  as  well  as  for  devotion. 

ISTear  the  gate  of  the  town  one  of  the  last  miracles  of  our  Lord  was 
jjerformed.  Like  the  Temple  itself,  all  the  roads  leading  to  Jerusalem 
were  much  frequented  at  the  times  of  the  feasts,  by  beggars,  who  reaped 
a  special  harvest  from  the  charity  of  the  pilgrims. 

Blindness  is  remarkably  frequent  in  the  East.  While  in  northern 
Europe  only  one  in  a  thousand  is  blind,  in  Egypt  there  is  one  in  every 
hundred ;  indeed,  very  few  persons  there  have  their  eyes  quite  health}'. 
The  great  changes  of  temperature  at  different  times  of  the  day,  especially 
between  day  and  night,  cause  inflammation  of  the  eyes,  as  well  as  of  other 
parts,  both  in  Palestine  and  on  the  Lower  Nile ;  while  neglect  and  stupid 
prejudice,  refusing  or  slighting  remedies  in  the  earlier  stages,  lead  to 
blindness  in  many  cases  that  otherwise  might  have  been  easily  cured. 

Among  the  beggars  who  had  gathered  on  the  sides  of  the  road  at  Jericho 
were  two  who  had  thus  lost  their  sight :  one  of  whom  only,  by  name 
Bar-TimjBus,  for  some  special  reason,  is  particularly  noticed  by  two  of  the 
Gospels,  in  the  incident  that  followed. 

They  had  probably  heard  of  the  cure,  at  Jerusalem,  of  the  man  who  had 
been  born  blind,  and  learning  now  from  the  crowd  that  the  great  wonder- 
worker was  passing  by,  at  once  appealed  to  Him  as  the  Son  of  David — • 
the  Messiah — to  have  mercy  on  them.  The  multitude  tried  in  vain  to 
silence  them :  they  only  cried  the  louder.  At  last,  Jesus  came  near,  and, 
standing  still,  commanded  them  to  be  brought.  Li  a  moment  their  upper 
garment,  which  would  have  hindered  them,  was  cast  aside,  and,  leaping 
up,  they  stood  before  Him  with  their  artless  tale ;  that  they  believed 
He  could  open  their  eyes,  and  they  prayed  He  would  do  so.  A  touch 
sufficed :  immediately  their  eyes  received  sight  again,  aiid  they  joined  in 
the  throng  that  followed  their  Healer. 

Jericho  was  a  Levitical  city,  and  hence  the  residence  of  a  great  many 
priests  ;  its  position  as  the  centre  of  an  exceptionally  piolnctive  disti'ict, 
and  also  of  the  import  and  export  trade  between  the  two  sides  of  the 
Jordan,  made  it,  also,  a  city  of  publicans.  It  had  much  the  same  place 
in  Southern  Palestine  as  that  held  in  Galilee  by  Capernaum,  the  centre 
of  the  trade  between  the  sea-coast  and  the  northern  interior,  as  far  as 
Damascus.  The  transit  to  and  fro  of  so  much  wealth  brought  with  it 
proportionate  work  and  harvest  for  the  farmers  of  the  revenue.  Hence, 
a  strong  force  of  customs  and  excise  collectors  was  stationed  in  it,  under 
a  local  head,  named  Zacchosus,  whom,  in  our  day,  we  might  have  called  a 
commissioner  of  customs.  Li  a  sj^stem  so  oppressive  and  arbitrary  as  the 
Bomau  taxation,  the  inhabitants  must  have  suffered  heavily  at  the  hands 
of  such  a  complete  organization.  To  be  friendly  with  any  of  their  number 
was  not  the  way  to  secure  the  favour  of  the  people  at  large. 

Zacchffius,  especially,  was  disliked  and  despised,  for,  though  a  Jew,  he 
had  grown  rich  by  an  infamous  profession,  and  was,  in  the  eyes  of  his 


598  THE    LIFE    OF    CIIRTST. 

fellow-townsmen,  not  only  an  extortioner,  but,  by  his  serving  the  Romans, 
a  traitor  to  his  race,  and  to  their  invisible  King,  Jehovah.  His  personal 
cliaractcr,  moreover,  seems  to  have  been  bad,  for  he  owned  to  Jesus  that 
he  had,  at  least  in  some  cases,  wrung  money  from  his  fellow-townsmen  by 
swearing  falsely  against  them  before  the  magistrates.* 

Jesus  had  seldom  passed  that  way,  and  hence  His  person  was  little 
kuovra,  though  report  had  spread  His  name  widely.  Among  others,  Zac- 
chasus  was  anxious  to  see  Him,  and,  being  a  little  man,  he  had  run  before 
the  caravan  with  v.diich  our  Lord  was  entering  the  town,  and  had  taken 
his  station  in  one  of  the  ever-green  fig-trees — a  sycamore — of  which  some 
grew  at  the  wayside,  of  great  size,  a  few  even  fifty  feet  in  circumference. 
They  were  easy  to  climb,  from  their  short  trunks,  and  wide  branches 
forkinff  out  in  all  directions. 

He  had  never  seen  Jesus ;  and  having  no  idea  that  he  was  known  to 
Him,  must  have  been  astounded  when  the  Great  Teacher,  as  He  passed  the 
spot,  looked  up,  and,  addressing  him  by  name,  told  him  to  make  haste  and 
come  down,  as  He  intended  to  be  his  guest  that  night.  A  Divine  purpose 
of  mercy,  as  yet  known  to  Jesus  alone,  had  determined  this  self-invitation. 
Though  all  others  shunned  the  chief  of  the  publicans  as  specially  disre- 
putable, he  was  chosen  in  loving  pity  by  Jesus,  as  His  host.  The  word  was 
enough  ;  in  an  instant  he  was  in  the  road,  and  pressingly  welcomed  Christ 
to  his  hospitality.  That  he,  the  hated  and  despised  one,  should  have  been 
thus  favoured,  in  a  moment  won  his  heart,  and  waked  the  impulse  of  a 
new  and  better  life ;  but  it  also  raised  the  hostile  feeling  of  the  multi- 
tude. Voices  on  every  side  were  heard  murmuring  that  "  He  was  gone, 
in  defiance  of  the  Law,  and  of  public  feeling  and  patriotic  duty,  to  lodge 
with  the  chief  publican." 

They  little  knew  the  mighty  change  His  having  done  so  had,  instanta- 
neously, wrought  in  a  soul  hitherto  degraded  and  lost,  not  less  by  an  ignoble 
life,  than  by  the  social  prosci-iption  which  barred  all  hope  of  self -recovery. 
Christ  had  completely  overcome  him,  for  He  had  treated  him  as  a  man, 
with  respect,  and  shovfu  him  that  the  way  still  lay  open,  even  to  him,  to  a 
new  and  better  future.  The  two  had  meanwhile,  apparently,  reached  the 
court  of  Zacclia3us'  house,  and  the  crowd  pressed  closely  round  as  Jesus 
T/as  about  to  enter  a  dwelling,  the  threshold  of  which  no  respectable  Jew 
would  think  of  crossing.  He  was  braving  a  harsh  public  opinion,  and 
incurring  the  bitterest  hatred  of  the  Jewish  religious  leaders,  by  openly 
disregarding  the  laws  of  ceremonial  defilement,  and  by  treating  Avith 
honour  one  whom  they  denounced  as  accursed.  Zacchajus  was  over- 
powered with  a  sense  of  the  unselfish  magnanimity  which  could  prompt 
such  treatment  of  one  who  had  no  claim  to  it.  He  would  signalise  the  ■ 
event  by  an  open  and  public  vow.  Standing  before  the  crowd,  therefore, 
he  addressed  Christ:  "Lord,  I  feel  deeply  the  honour  and  loving  service 
you  do  me,  and  I  hereby  vow  that  I  shall  give  one-half  of  my  goods  to  the 
poor,  to  show  how  much  I  thank  Thee.  And,  still  more,  if  as  I  lament  to 
think  has  been  the  case,  I  have  ever  taken  any  money  from  any  one  by 
false  accusation,  I  promise  to  repay  him  four-foid— the  highest  restitution 
that  even  Eoman  law  demands  from  one  guilty  of  such  an  offence." 


IN   PEEEA.  599 

"This  day  is  salvation  come  to  this  house,"  said  Jesus,  as  Ho  heard  such 
words,  "  for  this  man,  sinner  though  he  be,  is,  nevertheless,  a  son  of 
Abraham,  and  now  shows  himself  humbled  and  penitent.  I  came  to  seek 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost,  and  I  rejoice  to  have  won  Ijack  to  tlie  fold 
of  God,  a  child  of  Israel  who  had  wandered  so  far  from  Him."  He  had 
foreseen  the  whole  incident,  by  His  Divine  power,  and  calmly  ignored  all 
recognition  of  caste  or  class  when  a  human  soul  was  to  be  saved. 

"  Before  you  leave,"  He  continued,  still  addressing  the  crowd  in  the 
court-yard,  or  outside  it,  "let  me  tell  you  a  parable.  Iknowjvliat  is  in 
your  thoughts.  You  see  that  I  am  near  Jerusalem,  and  suppose  I  shall 
take  advantage  of  the  Passover,  when  such  vast  throngs  of  Jews  are  in  the 
Holy  City,  to  proclaim  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah  in  the  way  you  expect, 
by  insurrection  and  force.     Let  me  set  before  you  the  truth." 

With  that  marvellous  power  of  turning  every  incident  to  practical 
account,  which  marked  His  teaching.  He  proceeded  to  repeat  a  parable 
borrowed,  in  many  particulars,  from  facts  in  their  recent  or  passing 
national  history.  Archelaus  had  set  out  for  Eome,  most  likely  from 
Jericho  itself,  not  many  years  before,  to  obtain  investiture  in  the  kingdom 
left  to  him  by  the  will  of  his  father  Herod,  and  the  Jews  had  sent  a  fruit- 
less embassy  after  him,  to  prevent  his  obtaining  it.  All  the  princes  of  the 
house  of  Herod  had,  indeed,  been  only  vassals  of  Eome,  and  had  had  to  go 
to  the  imperial  city,  in  each  case,  to  seek  their  kingdom  as  a  gift  from  the 
Eoman  senate. 

"A  certain  man,"  said  He,  " of  noble  birth,  went  to  a  distant  country  to 
receive  for  himself  the  dignity  of  king  over  his  former  fellow-citizens,  and 
then  to  return.  Before  doing  so,  he  called  ten  of  his  servants,  from  whom, 
as  such,  he  had  the  right  to  expect  the  utmost  care  for  his  interests  in  his 
absence.  He  proposed,  in  his  secret  mind,  to  entrust  them  Avitli  a  small 
responsibility,  by  their  discharge  of  which  he  could  judge,  when  he  re- 
turned, of  their  iitness  and  worthiness  to  be  put  into  positions  of  greater 
consideration ;  for  he  wished  to  choose  from  them  his  future  chief  officers. 

"  In  the  meantime  he  gave  them,  each,  only  a  mina,  one  hundred 
drachmas,  and  said  to  them,  'Trade  with  this,  on  my  account,  till  I  return.' 
If  they  proved  to  be  faithful  in  this  small  matter,  he  would  be  able  to 
advance  them  to  higher  trusts. 

"  It  happened,  however,  that  he  was  so  unpopular,  that  his  fellow-citi- 
zens, in  their  hatred  of  him,  sent  an  embassy  after  him  to  the  supreme 
power,  complaining  against  him,  and  contemptuously  declaring  that  they 
would  not  have  such  a  man  to  rule  over  them.  But  their  embassy  failed ; 
for,  in  spite  of  it,  he  obtained  the  province,  and  was  appointed  their  king. 

"  On  his  return,  after  he  had  thus  received  the  government,  he  ordered 
the  servants  to  whom  he  had  given  the  money,  to  be  called  before  him, 
that  he  might  know  what  each  had  gained  by  trading.  The  first  came 
and  said,  '  Lord,  thy  mina  has  gained  ten.'  '  Well  done,  good  servant,' 
replied  his  master,  '  because  thou  wast  faithful  in  a  very  little,  be  thou 
governor  of  ten  cities.'  The  second  came,  saying,  '  Lord,  thy  mina  has 
gained  five.'  '  Be  thou  governor  of  five  cities,'  replied  his  master.  But 
another  came,  and  said,  '  Lord,  here  is  thy  mina,  I  have  kept  it  safely  tied 


600  THE    LIFP]    OF    CHRIST. 

up  in  a  naiikin ;  thou  wilt  find  it  just  as  I  got  it.  I  did  not  know  what  to 
do  with  it,  and  I  was  afraid  of  thee ;  for  I  know  thou  art  a  hard  man  in 
money  matters,  looking  for  great  profits  where  thou  hast  laid  out  next  to 
nothing, — taking  up,  as  they  say,  what  thou  hast  not  put  down,  and,  if 
needs  be,  reaping  where  thou  hast  not  sown,— making  good  thy  loss,  if 
there  were  any,  at  his  expense  who  caused  it, — and  so,  to  keej)  my.swlf  safe, 
I  thought  it  best  to  run  no  risks  one  way  or  other.' 

'"I  will  judge  you  out  of  your  own  mouth,  wicked  servant,'  replied  his 
master.  '  You  say  you  knew  I  was  a  hard  man  in  money  matters,  seeking 
gain  where  I  had  laid  nothing  out  to  secure  it,  and  reaping  where  others 
have  sown,  why  then  did  you  not  at  least  give  my  money  to  some  ox- 
changer  to  use  at  his  table,  that  thus,  on  my  return,  I  might  have  got  it 
back  with  interest  ?  '  Then,  turning  to  the  servants  standing  b}'.  he  con- 
tinued, '  Take  from  him  the  mina,  and  give  it  to  him  that  has  ten.'  *  He 
has  ten  already,'  muttered  the  servants,  half  afraid.  But  the  king  went 
on  in  his  anger,  without  heeding  them,  '  I  tell  you  that  to  every  one  who 
shows  his  fitness  to  serve  me,  by  having  already  increased  what  I  at  first 
gave  him,  I  shall  give  more ;  but  I  shall  take  away  what  I  first  gave,  from 
him,  who,  by  adding  nothing  to  it,  has  proved  his  unfitness  to  use  what 
might  be  put  in  his  hands. 

'"As  to  my  enemies,  who  did  not  wish  me  to  reign  over  them,  bring 
them  hither,  and  jjut  them  to  death  in  my  presence.'  " 

The  lessons  of  the  parable  could  hardly  be  misundei'stood.  To  the 
Jewish  people,  who  would  not  receive  Him  as  the  Messiah,  they  spoke  in 
words  of  warning  alarm;  but  the  Twelve,  themselves,  heard  a  solemn 
caution.  They  had  each,  in  being  selected  as  an  Apostle,  received  a  sacred 
trust,  to  be  used  for  his  Master's  interests,  till  the  coming  again  in  glory. 
"Well  for  him,  who,  when  his  Lord  returned  to  reckon  with  them,  could 
give  a  good  account  of  his  stewardship ;  woe  to  him  who  had  neglected 
his  duty !  Though  called  to  the  same  honour  at  first  as  the  others,  as 
an  Apostle,  he  would  be  stripped  of  his  rank,  and  receive  no  share  in 
the  glory  and  dignities  of  the  Messianic  kingdom.  As  to  the  J.ews  who 
rejected  Him,  His  coming  would  be  the  signal  for  the  sorest  judgments. 

Having  finished  His  brief  stay  in  Jericho,  Jesus  set  out,  once  Jnore,  on 
His  journey  of  calm,  self-sacrificing  love,  to  Jerusalem,  going  on  before 
the  multitude,  in  His  grand  consciousness  of  victory  beyond  thought. 
Many  had  already  gone  up  to  the  Holy  City,  for  not  a  few  needed  to  be 
there  some  time  before  the  feast,  to  jDrepare  themselves  to  take  part  in 
it,  by  purifications,  necessary  from  various  causes.  Lepers,  for  example, 
who  had  been  cured,  but  were  not  as  yet  pronounced  clean  by  the  priests, 
were,  with  many  others,  in  this  position.  Great  numbers,  moreover,  we 
may  be  sure,  went  up  early,  for  purposes  of  trade  with  the  first  arrivals  of 
pilgrims  from  abroad. 

Meanwhile,  all  classes  alike,  in  Jerusalem,  discussed  the  probability  of 
Christ's  coming  to  the  feast.  The  excitement  among  the  people  was  evi- 
dent, and  increased  the  alarm  of  the  hierarchical  party,  for  how  could  they 
withstand  Him,  if  He  once  gained  general  popular  support  ?  The  advice 
of  Caiaphas  had,  therefore,  been  accepted  as  the  policy  of  the  party  at 


PALM   SUNDAY.  601 

large,  and  orders  had  been  issued  that  He  should  be  instantly  arrested, 
•when  found.  It  was  even  required  that  any  one  -who  knew  where  He  was, 
should  report  it,  with  a  view  to  His  apprehension. 

In  the  midst  of  this  commotion,  Jesus  quietly  entered  Bethanj-,  on  the 
sixth  day  before  the  Passover.  It  was,  however,  impossible  for  Him  to 
remain  concealed.  The  news  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  street 
of  the  village  soon  became  thronged  with  visitors,  who  came,  not  only  to 
see  Him,  but  to  see  Lazarus  also,  whom  they  heard  He  had  raised  from 
the  dead.  The  high  priests  began  to  question  whether  they  could  not 
manage  to  put  him,  also,  to  death.  The  sight  of  him  was  winning  many 
disciples  to  Jesus.     They  would  try. 


CHAPTER    LY. 

PALM  SUNDAY. 

r  I  THE  long  caravan  of  pilgrims  that  had  accompanied  Jesus  up  the  wild 
-■-  gorge  of  the  Kedron,  from  Jericho,  had  been  left  at  Bethany ;  some 
pressing  on  to  Jerusalem,  others  pitching  their  tents,  as  fancy  pleased 
them,  in  the  pleasant  dell  below  the  village,  or  on  the  western  slope  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  where  they  could  feast  their  eyes  with  a  sight  of  the 
city.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  Sabbath,  and  that  night  and  the  next  day  were 
sacred.  The  journey  from  Jericho  had  been  exhausting.  A  steep  and 
narrow  bridle-path,  threading  the  precipitous  defile,  had  been  the  only  road. 
It  was  the  scene  of  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  The  khan,  where 
the  wounded  man  was  sheltered,  had  been  passed  half  way.  Lonely  ascents, 
between  bare  rocks,  with  the  worst  footing,  had  been  left  behind  only  when 
Bethany  and  Bethphage,  on  the  eastern  spur  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  came 
in  sight.  The  journey  was  over  before  three  in  the  afternoon,  for  it  was 
the  rule  to  have  three  hours  of  rest  before  the  Sabbath  began,  at  six.  In 
Bethany,  Jesus  was  at  home.  It  was  the  village  of  Lazarus  and  Martha 
and  Mary.  The  fifteen  miles  from  Jericho  had  been  a  continual  climb  of 
over  three  thousand  feet ;  but  He  could  now  rest  with  His  friends,  through 
the  Sabbath.     Before  the  next  He  would  be  crucified.     And  He  knew  it. 

This  glimpse  of  sweet  rest  over — the  last  He  would  enjoy  before  the 
awful  end ;  the  first  act  in  the  great  tragedy,  His  triumphal  entry  into 
Jerusalem,  fitly  led  the  way  to  the  great  consummation. 

In  these  last  months  He  had  more  and  more  openly  assumed  the 
supreme  dignity  of  Messiah,  with  wise  caution.  Hefraining  at  first  from 
a  sudden  proclamation  of  His  office.  He  had  carefully  shunned  popular 
excitement  even  by  the  liublicatiou  of  His  miracles ;  that  His  words — 
which  were  the  true  seed  of  His  kingdom — might  get  time  to  root  them- 
selves, and  bear  fruit  among  the  people,  before  the  inevitable  opposition 
of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  brought  His  work  to  a  close.  He  had  never, 
however,  refused  the  title  when  given  Him,  or  the  honours  from  time  to 
time  paid  him  as  the  Christ.  He  had  even  revealed  Himself  to  the  woman 
of  Samaria;  to  the  Apostles,  first,  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  afterwards. 


G02  Tlliu   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

with  impressive  solemnity,  at  Caasarea  Philippi ;  and,  latterly,  more  than 
once  to  His  enemies,  as  the  Head  of  the  New  Kingdom  of  God.  But,  as 
yet.  Ho  had  made  no  public,  or  as  it  were,  official  declaration,  of  His  claims 
and  rights  as  the  Messiah,  and  till  this  was  done,  there  still  wanted  a  for- 
mal proclamation  of  His  Kingdom  before  Israel  and  the  world.  Till  then, 
moreover,  the  heads  of  the  moribund  theocracy  could  not  be  said  to  have 
had  the  choice  openly  given  them,  as  the  representatives  of  the  religious 
past,  to  accept  Him  as  the  Messiah,  or  definitely  to  reject  Him. 

He  determined,  therefore,  with  calm  delibei'ation,  and  consciousness  of 
what  it  involved,  to  enter  Jerusalem  publicly,  with  such  circumstance  as 
would  openly  announce  His  claim  to  be  the  Christ.  He  would  also  per- 
form specific  Messianic  acts,  in  the  very  citadel  of  the  theocracy ;  entering 
it  under  the  eyes  of  the  haughty,  and  yet  alarmed,  hierarchy,  as  a  king,  but 
as  the  Prince  of  Peace,  giving  no  real  pretence  for  any  charge  of  political 
design,  but  clearly,  as  king  only  in  a  spiritual  sense.  He  had  no  longer 
any  reason  to  conceal  from  the  authorities  what  He  really  was,  and  felt 
Himself  to  be. 

The  companies  of  pilgrims  from  the  various  towns  and  districts  of 
Palestine,  or  from  Jewish  settlements  abroad,  were  wont  to  make  public 
entries  into  the  city  before  the  great  feasts.  Such  an  entry  Jesus  would 
make.  Himself  its  central  figure.  It  would  be  a  day  of  joy  and  gladness 
to  Him  and  to  others,  as  when  a  king  enters  on  his  kingdom.  He  would 
no  longer  check  the  popular  feeling  in  His  favour.  His  last  entry  to  the 
Holy  City,  at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  had  been  designedly  secret ;  but 
this  should  be  in  exact  contrast,  for  He  knew  that  His  kingly  work  was 
now  over,  so  far  as  it  could,  for  the  time,  be  completed,  and  the  enthusiasm 
of  willing  consecration  to  death,  as  His  path  to  eternal  triumpli,  filled  Him 
with  a  serene  and  victorious  joy.  Misconception  of  His  claim  would  be 
impossible,  in  honest  minds,  in  the  face  of  facts.  Israel  should  now  sec 
Him  come  openly,  as  He,  who  alone,  if  they  frankly  accepted  Ilim,  could 
save  them,  by  leading  them  as  a  nation,  to  true  repentance  and  a  higher 
spiritual  life.  He  knew  beforehand,  that  they  would  not ;  but  His  work 
could  not  be  said  to  be  completely  ended  till  He  had  given  tliem  and  their 
leaders  this  last  public  opportunity. 

Hitherto  lie  had  entered  the  Holy  City  on  foot ;  this  day,  like  David 
and  the  Judges  of  Israel,  he  would  ride  on  an  ass,  the  ancient  symbol  of 
Jewish  royalty.  Nor  must  we  think  of  AVcstern  associations  in  connection 
Avith  the  subject.  In  the  East,  the  ass  is  in  high  esteem.  Statelier,  live- 
lier, swifter  than  v/ith  us,  it  vies  with  the  horse  in  favour.  Among  the 
Jews  it  was  equally  valued  as  a  beast  of  burden,  for  work  in  the  field  or  at 
the  mill,  and  for  riding.  In  contrast  to  the  horse,  which  had  been  intro- 
duced by  Solomon  from  Egypt,  and  was  used  especially  for  war,  it  was 
the  emblem  of  peace.  To  the  Jew  it  was  peculiarly  national,  for  had  not 
Moses  led  his  wife,  seated  on  an  ass,  to  Egypt ;  had  not  the  Judges  ridden 
on  white  asses  ;  and  was  not  the  ass  of  Abraham  the  friend  of  God,  noted 
in  Scripture  ?  Every  Jew,  moreover,  expected,  from  the  words  of  one  of 
the  prophets,  that  the  Messiah  would  enter  Jerusalem,  poor,  and  riding  on 
an  ass.     'No  act  could  be  more  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the  conception  of 


PALM    SUNDAY.  603 

a  king  of  Israel,  and  no  words  could  express  more  plainly  that  tliat  King 
proclaimed  Himself  the  Messiah. 

On  the  early  morning  of  Sunday,  the  tenth  of  ISTisan — the  Jewish  Mon- 
day', therefore — Jesus  and  the  Twelve  left  their  hospitable  shelter  at  Beth- 
any, and  passed  out  to  the  little  valley  beneath,  with  its  clusters  of  fig, 
almond,  and  olive  trees,  soon  to  burst  into  leaf,  and  its  evergreen  palms. 
Somewhere  near  lay  the  larger  village  of  Bethphage ;  like  Bethany,  so 
close  to  Jerusalem  as  to  be  reckoned,  in  the  Eabbinical  law,  a  part  of  it. 
Secret  disciples,  such  as  the  five  hundred  who  afterAvards  gathered  to  one 
spot  in  Galilee,  and  the  hundred  and  twenty,  who  met,  after  the  resurrec- 
tion, in  the  upper  room  in  the  Holy  City,  were  scattered  in  many  places. 
At  least  one  such  lived  in  Bethphage.  Jesus,  therefore,  now  sent  two  dis- 
ciples thither ;  telling  them  that,  immediately  on  entering  it,  they  would 
find  a  she  ass  tied,  and  her  colt  standing  by  her.  "  Loose  and  bring  them 
to  me,"  said  He,  "  and  if  any  one  make  a  remark,  say  that  the  Lord  needs 
them,  and  he  will  send  them  at  once."  His  supernatural  power  had  rightly 
directed  them.  The  ass  and  its  colt  were  found,  and  the  ready  permission 
of  their  owner — no  doubt  a  disciple — was  obtained  at  once,  for  their  being 
taken  for  His  use. 

Meanwhile,  it  had  reached  Jerusalem  that  He  was  about  to  enter  it,  and 
great  numbers  of  the  Galiltean  pilgrims,  proud  of  Him  as  a  prophet  from 
their  own  district,  forthwith  set  out  to  meet  and  escort  Him,  cutting  fronds, 
as  they  came,  from  the  palm-trees  that  then  lined  the  path,  to  do  Him 
honour.  The  disciples  showed  equal  enthusiasm,  and  it  was  forthwith 
caught  by  the  crowds  around — for  the  whole  open  ground  near  the  city 
was  filled  with  pilgrims  at  this  season.  The  former  hastily  threw  their 
abbas  on  the  back  of  the  colt,  to  deck  it  for  their  Master,  and  set  Him  on 
it,  the  mother  walking  at  its  side ;  while  the  pilgrims,  not  to  be  behind, 
spread  theirs  on  the  road,  or  cut  off  the  young  sprouts  from  the  trees,  and 
strewed  them  before  Him.  So  myrtle-twigs  and  robes  had  been  strewn 
by  their  ancestors  before  Mordecai,  when  he  came  forth  from  the  palace 
of  Ahasuei'us,  and  so  the  Persian  army  had  honoured  Xerxes,  when  about 
to  cross  the  Hellespont,  and  so  it  is  still  sometimes  done  in  Palestine,  as 
a  mark  of  special  honour. 

There  were  three  paths  over  the  Mount  of  Olives ;  on  the  north,  in  the 
hollow  between  the  two  crests  of  the  hill ;  next,  over  the  summit ;  and 
on  the  south,  between  the  Mount  of  Olives  and  the  Hill  of  Offence,  still 
the  most  frequented  and  the  best.  Along  this  Jesus  advanced,  preceded 
and  followed  by  multitudes,  Avith  loud  cries  of  rejoicing,  as  at  the  Feast 
of  Tabernacles,  when  the  great  Hallel  was  daily  sung  in  their  processions. 
With  the  improvisatorial  turn  of  the  East,  their  acclamations  took  a 
rhythmical  form,  which  v/as  long  chanted  in  the  early  Church  as  the  first 
Christian  hymn. 

"  Give  (Thou)  the  triumph,  (0  Jehovah),  to  the  Son  of  David ! 
Blessed  be  the  kingdom  of  our  Father  David,  now  to  be  restored  in  the 

name  of  Jehovah ! 
Blessed  be   He   that   cometh— the   King   of  Israel — in  the   name   of 
■  Jehovah ! 


604  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

Our  jDeaco  and  salvation  (now  coming)  are  from  God  above  ! 

Praised  bo  lie  in  the  highest  heavens  (for  sending  them  by  Him,  tho 
Son  of  David) ! 

From  the  highest  heavens,  send  Thou,  now,  salvation !  " 

It  was  a  triumph  in  wondrous  contrast  with  that  of  earthly  raonarchs. 
No  spoils  of  towns  or  villages  adorned  it;  no  trains  of  captives  destined 
to  slavery  or  death  ;  the  spoil  of  His  sword  and  His  spear  were  seen  only 
in  trojjhies  of  healing  and  love — for  the  lame  whom  He  had  cured  ran 
before,  the  dumb  sang  His  praises,  and  the  blind,  sightless  no  longer, 
crowded  to  gaze  on  their  benefactor.  The  Pharisees  among  the  multitude 
in  vain  tried  to  silence  the  acclamations.  In  their  mortification  they  even 
turned  to  Jesus  Himself,  to  ask  that  He  should  rebuke  those  who  made 
them.  "  No,"  replied  He,  "  I  tell  you  that,  if  these  should  hold  their  peace, 
the  very  stones  will  cry  out." 

As  they  approached  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  where  the  road  bends 
downwards  to  the  north,  the  sparse  vegetation  of  the  eastern  slope  changed* 
as  in  a  moment,  to  the  rich  green  of  gardens  and  trees,  and  Jerusalem  in 
its  glory  rose  before  them.  It  is  hard  for  us  to  imagine,  now,  the  s]jlondonr 
of  the  view.  The  City  of  God,  seated  on  her  hills,  shone  at  the  moment 
in  the  morning  sun.  Straight  before  stretched  the  vast  white  walls  and 
buildings  of  the  Temple,  its  courts,  glittering  with  gold,  rising  one  above 
the  other;  the  steep  sides  of  the  Hill  of  David  crowned  with  lofty  walls; 
the  mighty  castles  towering  above  them  ;  the  sumptuous  palace  of  Herod 
in  its  green  parks,  and  the  picturesque  outlines  of  the  streets.  Over 
all  rested  the  spell  of  a  history  of  two  thousand  years ;  of  a  present 
which  craved  salvation  in  its  own  jaerverted  way ;  and  the  mystic  Holy 
of  Holies  linked  the  seen  to  the  invisible.  The  crusaders,  long  centuries 
after,  when  the  only  glory  left  to  the  Holy  City  was  its  wondrous  memories, 
burst  out  into  a  loud  cry— Jerusalem!  Jerusalem! — when  they  first  saw 
it,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Jew  could  not  have  been  less  intense.  The 
shouts  and  rejoicing  rose  higher  than  ever. 

The  whole  scene  was  overpowering,  even  to  Jesus  Himself.  He  was 
crossing  the  ground  on  which,  a  generation  later,  the  tenth  Koman  legion 
would  be  encamped,  as  part  of  the  besieging  force  destined  to  lay  in  ashes 
all  the  splendour  before  Him.  Knowing  the  future  as  He  did.  His  heart 
1  was  filled  with  indescribable  sadness,  for  He  was  a  patriot  and  man, 
though  also  the  Son  of  God.  Looking  at  the  spectacle  before  Him,  and 
thinking  of  the  contrast  a  few  years  would  show,  tears  burst  from  His 
eyes,  and  His  disciples  heard  Him  saying — "Would  that  thou  hadst  known, 
thou,  Jerusalem,  in  this  thy  day,  when  I  come,  who  alone  can  bring  it — 
what  would  give  thee  peace  and  safety  !  But  now,  thou  seest  not  what 
only  could  make  them  thine — the  receiving  me  as  the  Messiah!  Days 
will  come  upon  thee,  when  thine  enemies  will  raise  a  mount  about  thee, 
and  compass  thee  round,  and  invest  thee  on  every  side,  and  level  thee  with 
the  ground,  and  bury  thy  children  under  thy  ruins,  and  leave  not  one 
stone  in  tliee  upon  another,  because  thou  knewest  not  the  time  when  God, 
through  me,  offered  thee  salvation  !  " 

Sweeping  round  to  the  north,  the  road  approached  Jerusalem  by  tho 


PALM   SUNDAY.  605 

bridge  over  the  Kedron,  to  reacli  which  it  had  to  pass  Gctlisemane.  The 
myriads  of  pilgrims  on  the  slopes  of  Olivet,  and  the  crowd  at  the  eastern 
■wall  of  the  Temple,  thus  saw  the  procession  ^yinding  in  slow  advance,  till 
it  reached  the  gate,  now  St.  Stephen's,  through  which  Jesus  passed  into 
Bezetha— the  new  town — riding  up  the  valley  between  it  and  Mount 
Moriah,  through  narrow  streets,  hung  with  flags  and  banners  for  the  feast, 
and  crowded,  on  the  raised  sides,  and  on  every  roof,  and  at  every  window, 
with  eager  faces.  "  Who  is  this  ?  "  passed  from  lip  to  lip.  "  It  is  Jesus, 
the  Prophet  of  Nazareth,  in  Galilee,"  shouted  back  the  crowd  of  northern 
pilgrims  and  disciples,  glorying  in  the  vindication  of  the  honour  of  their 
jirovince  before  the  proud  and  contemptuous  sons  of  Jerusalem. 

Leaving  His  beast,  and  entering  the  Temple,  which,  having  ridden.  He 
could  do  without  preparation,  except  that  of  removing  His  sandals,  though 
the  crowd  with  Him,  if  at  such  times  the  rules  were  enforced,  had  to  stop 
behind  to  cleanse  their  dusty  feet,  take  off  their  shoes  or  sandals,  and  lay 
aside  their  walking  staves,  before  entering  a  place  so  holy, — He  took  pos- 
session of  it  in  the  name  and  as  the  representative  of  Jehovah  its  Lord, 
and  closed  the  wondrous  day  by  a  calm  and  prolonged  survey  of  all  around. 
Earnest,  sad,  indignant  hours  thus  passed ;  but  even  they  were  filled  with 
works  of  pitying  goodness,  for  the  blind  and  the  lame  had  heard  of  His 
coming,  and  hastened  to  Him,  and  were  healed.  The  courts  and  halls 
of  the  Sacred  House — the  very  stronghold  of  His  enemies, — re-echoed,  to 
their  intense  mortification,  with  the  shouts  that  had  accompanied  His 
entry  to  the  city,  for  the  miracles  He  wrought  heightened  and  prolonged 
the  enthusiasm,  till  the  very  children  joined  in  the  cry  of  "  Hosanna  to 
the  Son  of  David  !  " 

"  Do  you  see  how  powerless  we  are  against  Him  ? "  muttered  the 
Pharisees;  "the  whole  people  have  gone  after  Him." 

His  bold  appearance  in  the  Temple  itself,  filled  the  priestly  dignitaries 
and  Rabbis  with  indignation,  which  was  all  the  deeper  because  they  dared 
not  arrest  Him  for  fear  of  the  crowds,  even  when  now  in  their  very  hand. 
That  the  children  should  hail  Him  as  the  Messiah,  also  enraged  them. 
"  Hearest  thou  not  what  these  say  ?  "  asked  some  of  them.  But  instead 
of  disavowing  the  supreme  honour  ascribed  to  Him,  He  only  replied  that 
He  did,  adding,  "  Have  ye  never  read  in  your  own  Scriptures — '  Out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings.  Thou  (Jehovah)  hast  perfected  praise,  that 
thou  mightest  put  to  shame  Thine  enemies,  and  silence  Thy  foes,  and  those 
who  rage  against  Thee.'  " 

Never  was  His  presence  of  mind  and  cjuick  aptness  of  retort  shown  more 
strikingly. 

The  day  was  now  far  spent.  The  end  proposed  had  been  abundantly 
attained.  The  crowds  had  begun  to  retire  after  evening  prayers,  and  He, 
too,  with  the  Twelve,  passed  out  quietly  with  the  throng,  and  betook  Him- 
self once  more  to  the  well-loved  cottage  at  Bethany. 

The  day  in  which  He  had  thus  virtually  consecrated  Himself  to  death, 
was  that,  by  no  chance  coincidence,  on  which  the  paschal  lamb  was  selected. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  statement  of  the  Gospels,  that  neither  the 
Twelve  nor  the  disciples  at  large  realized  at  first  the  full  significance  of 


606  THE   LIFE    OE   CHRIST. 

what  had  happened.  In  Liter  times,  however,  after  lie  had  risen  and 
ascended  to  heaven,  its  full  grandeur  slowly  broke  on  them  as  llioy  dis- 
coursed again  and  again  on  the  whole  strange  history  through  which  they 
had  passed.  They  remembered,  then,  the  words  of  the  prophet  Zechariah, 
and  saw  how  the  trium])hal  entry  in  which  they  had  taken  part,  had  been 
the  divinely  designed  fulfilment  of  ancient  prophecy. 

The  entry  on  Palm  Sunday,  though,  for  the  moment,  a  bitter  mortifica- 
tion to  the  hierai'chical  party,  was  presently  hailed  by  them  as  a  fancied 
mistake  on  the  part  of  Jesus.  Till  now,  all  their  clforts  to  frame  any 
capital  charge  against  Ilim,  on  plausible  grounds,  had  utterly  failed.  He 
had  slighted  the  Rabbinical  laws ;  but  the  Romans,  with  whom  lay  the 
power  of  life  and  death,  would  take  no  cognizance  of  such  offences.  His 
jDublic  entry  into  Jerusalem,  as  the  Messiah,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  people 
seemed  to  give  them,  at  last,  the  means  of  indicting  Him  for  what  they 
could  represent  as  at  least  constructive  treason— the  claiming  to  be  king 
instead  of  Ca3sar.  The  Romans  dreaded  nothing  more  than  assumption  of 
the  Mcssialiship,  for  it  had  often  cost  them  dear  to  quell  the  insurrections 
to  which  it  led,  and  they  wci-e  stern  to  the  uttermost  against  any  attempt  to 
challenge  the  Emperoi''s  authority.  But  the  absolutely  peaceful  bearing  of 
Jesus,  throughout :  His  studied  care  to  make  no  illegal  use  of  the  popular 
enthusiasm ;  the  quiet  dispersion  of  the  crowds,  and  the  utter  absence  of 
any  political  character  in  His  whole  life  and  words,  were  fatal  to  judicial 
action  based  on  grounds  so  slender.  They  would  not,  however,  let  such  a 
charge  against  Him  slip,  and  could  accuse  Him  to  Pilate,  if  other  charges 
failed,  of  "  perverting  the  nation,  and  forbidding  to  give  tribute  to  Ctesar, 
saying  that  He,  Himself,  is  Christ,  a  king." 

Morning  saw  Jesus  once  more  on  His  way  to  the  Temple.  He  had  not 
as  yet  eaten,  for  He  seems  to  have  looked  forward  to  doing  so  at  the  home 
of  some  disciple  in  Jerusalem,  and  the  keen  air  of  the  early  hours  made 
Him  hungry.  The  little  valley  of  Bethany  was  famous  for  dates  and  figs ; 
the  very  name  Bethany  meaning  "  the  place  for  dates,"  while  Bethphagc  is 
"  the  place  for  the  green  or  winter  fig  " — a  variety  which  remains  on  the 
trees  through  the  winter,  having  ripened  only  after  the  leaves  had  fallen. 

It  was  not  yet  the  time  of  the  fig  harvest,  but  some  of  last  year's  fruit 
might,  no  doubt,  be  found  on  the  trees  growing  about.  One  tree,  especially, 
attracted  the  notice  of  Jesus.  It  grew  at  the  road-side,  as  common  pro- 
perty, and,  even  thus  early,  when  other  fig-trees  had  scarcely  begun  to 
show  greenness,  was  conspicuous  by  its  young  leaves.  When  he  came  to 
it,  however,  they  proved  its  only  boast ;  there  was  no  fruit  of  the  year 
before,  as  might  have  been  natui'ally  expected.  It  was,  indeed,  the  very 
type  of  a  fair  profession  without  perfoi^mance  ;  of  the  hypocrisy  which  has 
only  leaves,  and  no  fruit.  Such  a  realized  parable  could  not  be  passed  in. 
silence  by  One  who  drew  a  moral  from  every  incident  of  life  and  nature. 
"  Picture  of  boastful  insincerity,"  said  He,  loud  enough  for  the  disciples  to 
hear — "  type  of  Israel  and  its  leaders  ;  pretentious,  but  bearing  no  fruit 
to  God — let  no  fruit  grow  on  thee  henceforward,  for  ever,"  and  passed  on. 
They  were  to  learn  that  profession,  without  performance,  found  no  favour 
witli  their  Master. 


PALM   SUNDAY.  607 

Reaching  the  city,  He  once  more  went  to  the  Temple,  as  His  Father's 
house.  Two  years  before,  He  had  purified  its  outer  court  from  the  sordid 
abuses  which  love  of  gain  had  dexterously  cloaked  under  an  affectation  of 
piously  serving  the  requirements  of  worship.  Since  then,  they  had  been 
restored  in  all  their  hatefulness.  The  lowing  of  oxen,  the  bleating  of 
sheep,  the  cries  of  the  money-changers,  and  the  noisy  market  chaffering  of 
buyers  and  sellers  of  doves  or  other  accessories  to  a  ceremonial  worship, 
filled  the  air  with  discordant  sounds  of  the  outside  world,  which  had  no 
right  in  these  sacred  precincts.  Tlie  scene  roused  the  same  deep  indigna- 
tion in  Jesus,  as  when  He  formerly  rose  in  His  grand  protest  against  it. 
He  had  now,  in  His  triumphal  entry,  formally  proclaimed  His  Kingdom, 
and  would,  forthwith,  vindicate  its  rights,  by  once  more  restoring  the 
Temple  to  its  becoming  purity  ;  for  while  it  stood,  it  should  be  holy.  The 
same  fervent  zeal  again  dismayed  and  paralysed  opposition.  Filled,  as  all 
minds  were,  with  the  aAve  of  the  popular  enthusiasm  in  His  behalf,  His 
command  sufficed  to  clear  the  spacious  court  of  its  motley  crowd  :  the 
sellers  of  doves,  at  His  order,  bore  off  their  cages ;  the  exchangers 
gathered  up  their  coin,  and  He  made  the  one  remove  their  benches  and 
counters,  and  overturned  the  empty  booths  of  the  others.  ISTor  would  He 
suffer  the  desecration,  of  laden  porters  and  others  seeking  to  shorten  their 
journeys  by  crossing  the  Temple  spaces,  as  if  they  were  public  streets. 
They  might  carry  them  round  by  what  way  they  chose,  but  must  not  make 
a  thoroughfare  of  the  sacred  courts.  "  Jehovah  has  written,"  said  He, 
"  My  house  is  the  house  of  prayer  for  all  nations,  but  ye,  bringing  in  all 
the  wiles  and  cheats  of  unworthy  traffic,  have  made  it  a  den  of  thieves." 

We  cannot  suppose  that  Jesus,  within  a  few  hours  of  His  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  Temple  authorities,  and  immediately  after  His  lament  over 
His  rejection  by  them  and  the  nation,  intended,  by  this  cleansing  of  the 
outer  Temple  spaces,  to  present  Himself  as  a  reformer  of  the  Temple 
service.  He  meant,  rather,  to  show,  among  other  things,  to  the  multi- 
tudes round  Him,  by  an  act  which  they  could  not  mistake,  that  the  Holy 
House  was  already  desecrated  by  the  sanctioned  intrusion  of  the  spirit  of 
common  gain,  and  made  no  better  than  a  huge  bazaar,  with  all  its  abuses, 
doubly  unworthy  in  such  a  place.  He  wished  to  teach  them,  by  the  sight 
of  such  insensibihty  to  the  ideal  of  a  Temple  of  God,  that  the  fall  of  the 
theocracy,  with  its  scoffing  high  priests  and  worn-out  ceremonial,  was  a 
fact  already  begun.  The  very  texts  He  had  quoted  were  from  lamentations 
over  the  religious  decay  of  the  nation,  which,  the  prophets  predicted, 
would  bring  the  stranger  into  the  House  of  Jehovah,  as  more  worthy  than 
the  Jew  ;  a  decay  which  demanded,  instead  of  mere  outward  service,  a 
reform  of  the  heart  and  life.  But  the  great  lesson,  also,  was  not  wanting, 
that  the  worship  of  God  must  be  pure  and  earnest,  not  merely  formal,  and 
that  hypocrisy  was  abhorrent  to  Him.  This  truth  sank  that  day  into  all 
hearts,  and  before  a  generation  had  passed,  it  had  been  repeated  from  the 
Euphrates  to  Rome.  It  was  the  knell  of  the  Jewish  economy  at  its  centre, 
for  a  Temple  thus  publicly  marked  as  given  over  to  greed  and  gain,  under 
pretence  of  zeal  for  religion,  was  doomed  to  perish,  as  all  hypocrisies 
must,  in  the  end. 


608  THE    LIFE    OF    CHllIST. 


The  significance  of  such  an  act  to  Himself,  was  known  to  none  better 
than  to  Jcsns.  He  knew  that  His  hour  liacl  come,  and  that  He  would  perish, 
a  martyr  to  the  spirit  of  a  living,  as  0])poscd  to  the  letter  of  a  worn-ont, 
faith.  He  knew  that  He  had  against  Him  the  vast  power  of  great  vested 
interests,  who  passed  off  their  selfish  aims  as  zeal  for  Church  and  State, 
and  thus  won  support  from  unthinking  thousands.  He  knew,  moreover, 
that  the  religious  revolution  He  had  begun  was  spreading  daily,  and  must 
be  crushed  by  His  opponents,  by  any  measures  that  promised  success,  if 
their  own  authority  were  to  stand.  But,  in  the  face  of  all  this,  He  went 
forward  with  calm  serenity  towards  death,  as  the  one  pnrcliasc  price  of 
liberty  and  life  for  the  souls  of  men. 

The  day,  which  had  begun  with  the  symbolic  cleansing  of  the  Temple, 
Avas  devoted,  in  its  later  hours,  to  His  wonted  work  of  teaching  all  who 
would  listen,  but  none  of  the  discourses  have  been  preserved.  The  people, 
thronging  the  court  where  he  sat — for  He  taught  in  the  Temple — were 
greatly  impressed  by  His  words ;  so  new,  so  earnest,  so  searching  and 
practical,  compared  with  the  vapidities  of  the  Eabljis.  It  was  vain  for 
the  Jewish  authorities  to  attempt  to  arrest  Him  while  He  was  thus  in 
favour,  for  all  the  people  rallied  to  hear  Him,  and  no  one  knew  how  far 
they  might  be  disposed,  with  their  fiery  Eastern  natures,  to  rise  on  His 
behalf,  if  He  were  seized. 

This  day,  therefore,  passed  as  safely  for  Him  as  the  last,  and  in  tlie 
evening  Bethany  once  more  received  Him.  He  had  entered  the  city  with 
loud  jubilees,  but  the  last  mortal  struggle,  bcgixu  by  His  lofty  bearing  and 
independence,  made  it  wise  to  retire  unnoticed.  Leaving,  therefore, 
privately,  by  the  flight  of  steps  to  the  Kedi'on,  He  crossed  Olivet  with 
only  His  disciples. 

The  sensation  caused  by  the  great  act  of  the  day  must  have  been  pro- 
found. The  religious  instinct  of  the  masses  felt  that  it  was  worthy  of  a 
true  prophet  of  God,  Ijut  the  Temple  officials  realized  only  the  public 
censure  it  implied  on  their  own  estimate  and  discharge  of  their  duties. 
For  the  moment  they  were  paralysed  and  helpless,  rebuked  before  all,  and 
boldly  condemned" by  the  strange  intruder,  in  exactly  the  point  on  which 
they  were  most  sensitive  ;  for  it  was  as  watchful  guardians  of  the  Temple 
they  claimed  especially  the  respect  of  the  nation. 

l^ext  morning  found  Him  once  more  on  the  way  to  the  Temple.  "Eabbi," 
exclaimed  Peter,  in  wonder,  as  they  passed  the  tree  on  which  Jcsns  harl 
sought  figs  the  day  before,  "  the  fig-tree  which  Thou  cursedst  is  withered 
away."     It  had,  indeed,  already  shrivelled  up. 

The  question  gave  another  opportunity  for  impressing  on  the  Twelve  a 
truth,  which,  above  all  others,  He  had  sought  to  fix  in  their  hearts  dnring 
His  three  years'  intercourse  with  them — that,  as  His  Apostles,  commis- 
sioned to  establish  and  spread  His  Kingdom,  they  would  be  able,  if  they 
had  an  unwavering  faith  in  God  and  in  Him,  to  overcome  all  difficulties, 
however  apparently  insuperable. 

"  See,"  replied  He,  "  that  you  learn  from  this  tree  to  have  firm  trust  in 
God.  Believe  me,  if  you  have  such  faith,  and  let  no  doubt  or  hesitation 
enfeeble  it,  you  will  be  able  hereafter  to  do  not  only  such  things  as  yoi 


PALM   SUNDAY.  GOO 

have  seen  done  to  this  tree,  but— to  use  the  expression  you  so  often  hear 
from  the  Kabbis,  when  they  intend  to  speak  of  overcoming  the  greatest 
difficulties,  or  achieving  the  most  unlikely  ends— you  will  be  able,  as  it 
were,  to  bid  this  mountain  rise  and  cast  itself  into  the  sea.  All  depends, 
however,  on  your  faith  being  simple  and  undoubtiug ;  for  anything  less 
dishonours  God.  He  who  has  such  child-like  trust  in  Him,  may  confi- 
dently expect  his  prayers  to  be  heard.  "When  you  pray,  believe  tliat 
praj'er  is,  in  very  deed,  answered,  and  your  faith  will  be  honoured  by  God 
granting  what  you  seek ;  since  as  His  children,  and  my  discij^les,  you  will 
ask  only  what  is  in  accordance  with  His  will.  You  must,  however,  in  your 
prayers,  always  be  in  that  frame  of  loving  tendei'ness  to  your  fellow-men, 
which  true  faith  in  God,  as  His  sons,  never  fails  to  create.  Strife  and 
division  destroy  your  spiritual  life,  and  weaken  that  faith  by  which,  alone, 
you  can  do  great  things.  As  you  stand  at  your  prayers,  as  your  manner  is, 
you  must  have  no  anger,  no  revenge  in  your  hearts,  else  you  will  not  be 
heard.  The  spirit  of  frank  forgiveness,  which  springs  from  true  love  to 
God,  must,  beforehand,  have  forgiven  all  who  have  injured  3^ou.  For  how 
can  you  hope  that  your  Father  in  heaven  will  forgive  your  sins  against 
Him,  if  you  do  not  forgive  offences  against  yourselves  P  " 

But  the  moments  were  precious,  for  His  hours  were  numbered.  Always, 
from  the  first,  intensely  energetic,  He  was  now,  if  possible,  more  so 
than  ever,  that  He  might  utilize  every  instant  for  His  great  purpose. 
"With  calm,  undismayed  resolution,  each  morning  saw  Him  in  the  Temple, 
as  soon  as  it  was  opened.  He  would  show  that  He  was  no  Jacobin,  no 
revolutionist.  Had  He  been  so,  how  easily  might  He  have  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  popular  enthusiasm,  at  His  entry  to  the  city,  or  at  His  cleansing 
of  the  Temple  courts.  Instead  of  doing  so.  He  would  proclaim  the  true 
nature  of  His  Kingdom,  by  the  one  means  He  employed  to  establish  it — ■ 
the  power  of  persuasion.  He  would  devote  His  last  hoixrs,  as  He  had  all 
His  public  life,  to  teaching.  By  His  words  alone  would  He  prevail,  for 
they  had  the  irresistible  and  deathless  force  of  truth,  and,  as  such,  would 
found  in  every  heart  whose  convictions  they  reached,  a  kingdom  that  must 
spread,  and  could  never  perish. 

Meanwhile,  His  enemies  determined  to  destroy  Him,  though  undecided 
what  course  to  pursue  to  effect  their  purpose.  Afraid  of  the  popular 
feeling  they  might  evoke  in  His  favour,  they  watched  for  any  opportunity 
to  facilitate  decisive  action.  Their  bearing  had  acquitted  Him  of  all 
further  responsibility  towards  them.  He  had  brought  the  truth  home  to 
them  in  their  central  stronghold ;  had  made  it  unmistakable  what  He  de- 
manded in  the  name  of  His  Father,  that  they  should  begin  the  reform  and 
salvation  of  the  nation  by  reforming  themselves,  its  leaders ;  that  they 
should  be  true  shepherds,  and  not  hirelings  ;  sincere  in  their  religion,  and 
not  actors.  Such  demands,  in  themselves,  proved  His  Messiahshij),  for 
they  bore  on  their  front  the  evidence  that  they  were  from  God,  and  if 
accepted.  He  also  must  be  who  had  thus  been  sent  from  God  to  proclaim 
them.  The  internal  evidence  of  His  acts  and  words  thus  established  His 
highest  claims;  for  triith  and  goodness  are  their  own  witness  in  the 
universal  conscience.     But  the  hierarchy  had  shown  themselves  incapable 


GIO  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

of  reform.     Like  tlie  barren  fig-tree,  they  bore  only  leaves,  and  miLst  bo 
left  to  the  righteous  indignation  of  God. 

He  had  not  been  long  instructing  the  people,  who  flocked  to  see  and  hear 
Him,  before  some  of  the  Temple  authorities  came  to  Him,  determined  to 
bring  Him  to  account  for  His  act  of  the  day  before,  -which  had  been  au 
intriision  on  their  duties  as  TemiDle-inspectors ;  and  for  His  assuming  to 
teach  as  a  Eabbi,  without  any  licence  from  the  schools,  which  was  contrary 
to  established  rule.  They  seem  to  have  been  a  deputation  sent  officially,  and 
consisted  of  some  of  the  higher  priests — heads  of  the  different  cour.scs — some 
Eabbis,  and  some  of  the  "  elders,"  the  ancient  senators  or  representatives 
of  the  people,  who,  as  a  body,  had  existed  through  all  political  changes,  from 
the  days  of  Moses.  Interrupting  Jesus  as  He  taught,  thej^  now  abruptly 
asked  Him  by  what  aiithority  He  acted  as  He  had  done,  and  was  doing. 

They,  doubtless,  hoped  that  He  would  claim  Divine  authority,  and  that 
they,  thus,  might  have  ground  for  a  charge  against  Him.  But  He  was  not 
to  be  snared.  He  showed  Himself  the  dreaded,  promj^t,  keen  disputant, 
ready  to  turn  defence  into  attack.  Careful  to  avoid  giving  any  handle  for 
misrepresentation,  instead  of  an.swering  their  truest  ion,  He  evaded  it  b^^ 
asking  one  in  His  turn.  "Before  I  answer  j'ou,"  said  He,  "let  me  ask 
jou — Did  John  the  Baptist,  in  his  great  work,  act  by  direction  of  God,  as 
one  sent  by  Him,  or  was  he  unauthorized  .P "  To  be  themselves  inter- 
rogated in  turn ;  to  be  forced  to  give  a  reply,  instead  of  listening  to  one, 
was  sufficiently  enibari'assing,  but  the  question  itself  was  still  more  so.  It 
involved  much.  Jesus  evidently  associated  Himself  Avith  John  as  He  had 
never  before  done.  He  implied  that  the  man  who  had  been  the  terror  of 
Pharisees  and  priests,  and  their  victim — the  man  of  the  people,  who  had 
roused  such  an  unprecedented  excitement — was  His  Forerunner  and  He- 
rald. He  spoke  of  John's  baptism  as  a  commission  from  God,  and  evidently 
claimed  that  His  own  entry  to  Jerusalem,  His  preaching  of  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven,  His  cleansing  the  Temple,  and  His  claim  to  be  the  Messiah, 
Avere  no  less  by  Divine  authority. 

He,  Himself,  might  say  all  this  if  He  pleased,  but  that  they  should  have 
to  say  it,  was  to  force  them  to  become  His  advocates  and  apologists.  Yet, 
wluit  could  they  do,  for  was  it  not  clear  to  all  men  not  blind  to  the  truth, 
that  John  was  no  mere  adventurer,  but  a  noble  servant  of  God  ?  To  own 
that  he  was  so,  however,  Avould  bring  down  on  themselves  the  crushing 
question,  "  Why  then  did  ye  not  believe  what  he  said  respecting  yourselves, 
and  what  he  said  of  me  ?  for  his  witness,  alone,  is  enough  to  i^rove  that  I 
come  from  God."  On  the  other  hand,  to  denounce  him  as  an  impostor  was 
dangerous,  for  his  memory  was  cherished  by  the  people  at  large,  as  that  of 
a  national  hero,  the  last  of  the  mighty  line  of  prophets.  To  avoid  so 
disastrous  a  dilemma,  therefore,  they  were  driven  to  the  feeble  evasion — 
that  they  could  not  tell  whether  John's  mission  was  from  God  or  not. 

"  If  so,"  replied  Jesus,  "  then  clearly  he  did  not  need  your  authority, 
since  you  never  thought  it  worth  while  to  sanction,  or  even  decide,  re- 
specting him,  and  you  can  have  no  claim  to  authorize  me,  or  to  withhold 
authority  from  me.  I,  myself  decline  therefore  to  tell  by  what  authority 
I  act ;  if  it  v/as  indilferent  in  the  case  of  John,  it  is  equally  so  in  mine." 


PALM   SUNDAY.  611 

He  liad  silenced  His  O2:)poneiits,  but  would  not  let  them  leave  without 
once  more  trying  to  open  their  eyes  to  their  false  position. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  parable,"  He  continued.  "  A  certain  man  had  two 
sons.  He  came  to  the  first  and  said,  '  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  the  vine- 
yard.' But  he  answered,  '  I  will  not ; '  yet,  afterwards,  he  rejiented  and 
went.  And  he  came  to  the  second  son,  who,  on  receiving  the  same  com- 
mand, at  once  answered,  'Yes,  sir.'  But  he  did  not  go.  Let  me  ask  you, 
which  of  the  two,  do  you  think,  did  the  will  of  his  father  ?" 

The  perfect  composure  and  the  consummate  art  with  which  He  addressed 
them,  were  equally  perplexing ;  for  high  dignitaries  of  the  Jewish  religious 
world  must  have  been  little  accustomed  to  be  put  in  such  a  position  before 
the  multitude.  But  an  answer  could  not  be  refused,  and  the  question  was 
framed  in  such  a  way,  that  they  could  give  none  but  the  one  which  Jesus 
required  for  His  complete  justification,  and  their  own  condemnation. 
Hardly  seeing  what  it  implied,  they  readily  answered,  "  The  first."  They 
were  now  in  His  hands.  "  You  say  rightly,"  replied  He,  "  for  when  John 
came  calling  you,  in  the  name  of  God — you  priests,  scribes,  and  elders — 
to  repentance  and  righteousness,  you  honoured  him  by  ready  professions 
and  smooth  compliance,  promising  all  good  works  of  a  pious  and  holy  life, 
and  yet  you  held  aloof,  after  all,  and  showed,  by  your  neglect  to  obey  him, 
that  you  disbelieved  his  message.  You  are  the  second  son,  who  said,  Yes, 
but  did  not  go  into  the  vineyard. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  publicans  and  harlots,  whom  you  despise,  the 
common  people  at  large,  whom  you  reckon  cursed  of  God;  who  had 
roughly  and  wickedly  refused  to  do  right,  and  had  even  gone  to  the  utmost 
in  sin,  repented  at  the  summons  of  John,  believing  his  words,  and  sought 
earnestly  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God.  They,  therefore,  condemn 
you,  0  ye  leaders  of  the  people ;  foi%  by  your  own  showing,  they  have  done 
the  will  of  their  Father  in  Heaven,  but  you  have  not. 

"  It  has,  indeed,  been  always  the  same.  As  in  John's  day,  ye  would  not 
hear  him,  but  persecuted  him  to  the  death,  so  have  both  you  and  your 
fathers  done  in  all  generations.  You,  indeed,  are  guiltier  than  they  all, 
for  you  seek  to  do  even  worse.     Hear  another  parable." 

He  had  spoken  of  the  call  of  God  by  the  mouth  of  John,  and  by  implica- 
tion affirmed  that  His  own  experience,  as  the  successor  of  the  Baptist  in 
bis  great  work,  had  been  the  same.  He  now  glanced  at  the  history  of  the 
Theocracy,  and  at  the  sins  of  its  leaders,  from  its  earliest  days.  He  re- 
counted the  long  roll  of  the  servants  of  God  whom  they  had  slandered, 
wronged,  and  slain,  from  the  first  to  the  last,  and  greatest  of  them  all — 
Himself.  In  doing  so.  He  now  first  openly  called  Himself  the  Son  of  God, 
and  left  them  to  feel  that  He  stood  as  such  in  their  presence,  awaiting  at 
their  hands  the  fate  of  other  messengers  of  His  Father.  His  death  was  to 
brim  the  cup  of  their  iniquity. 

"  A  certain  man,"  said  He,  adopting  a  parable  of  Isaiah,  "  jolanted  a  viiae- 
yard,  and  set  a  hedge  about  it,  and  hewed  out  a  cistern  in  the  hill-side,  in 
which  to  press  the  wine,  and  built  a  tower  for  the  watchers,  to  guard  the 
vineyard,  and  agreed  with  husbandmen  to  work  it  on  his  behalf,  and  went 
into  a  far  country  for  a  long  time.     And  when  the  fruit  season  di-ew  near, 


612  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

he  scut  his  servants  to  the  husbandmen,  that  they  might  receive  for  him 
his  fruits.  But  they  took  them,  and  beat  one,  and  killed  another,  and 
stoned  a  third.  He  then  sent  other  servants,  more  numerous  than  the 
first ;  but  the  husbandmen  treated  them  as  badly,  for  they  beat  one,  cast 
stones  at  another  and  Avouiided  him  in  the  head,  and  sent  him  away  not 
only  empty-handed  but  shamefully  treated.  Some  of  the  rest  they  beat, 
others  they  killed,  and  they  refused  to  pay  the  fruits  they  owed. 

"Having  yet,  therefore,  a  sou — his  only  and  well-beloved, — he  deter- 
mined to  send  him  to  them,  thinking  that,  though  they  had  treated  his 
sei'vants  so  badly,  they  would  be  sure  to  show  his  son  respect.  But 
instead  of  this,  when  they  saw  the  son,  they  said  among  themselves,  *  This 
is  the  son,  come,  let  us  kill  him,  and  the  vineyard,  which  he  should  have 
inherited,  will  be  ours.'  So  they  took  him,  and  cast  him  out  of  the  vine- 
yard, and  slew  him. 

"  Let  me  ask  you  now,  what  will  the  lord  of  the  vineyard  do  to  these 
husbandmen  ?  " 

The  dignitaries  thus  addressed  could  not,  in  the  presence  of  the  crowd 
listening  to  all  that  had  passed,  refuse  the  only  possible  answer.  "  He 
will  come  and  miserably  destroy  these  wretched  men,"  said  their  spokes- 
man, "and  give  the  vineyard  to  others,  who  will  render  him  his  fruits  in 
their  seasons."  The  meaning  of  the  parable  had  already  flashed  on  the 
minds  of  some  of  them,  and  the  answer  was  followed  by  a  deep  "  God 
forbid !  "  from  several  voices. 

Looking  full  and  steadily  at  them,  Jesus  now  kept  them  from  retiring 
by  a  further  question. 

"  Did  you  never  read  in  the  Scriptures,"  said  He,  "  this  text, '  The  stone 
which  the  builders  rejected  is  made  the  chief  corner-stone — the  main  foun- 
dation; Jehovah  hath  done  this  ;  marvellous  is  it  in  our  eyes  ?  '  " 

The  meaning  was  clear.  The  corner-stone  of  the  Kingdom  of  God,  of 
which  those  in  His  presence  claimed  to  be  the  chief  men,  was,  in  their  own 
mode  of  speech,  only  a  figurative  name  for  the  Messiah,  on  whom  its  exist- 
ence and  completion  depended,  as  a  building  depends  on  its  foundation 
and  support.  The  Psalm  quoted  had,  it  is  believed,  been  sung  by  Israel, 
on  the  first  Feast  of  Tabernacles  after  the  return  from  Captivity.  Its 
historical  reference  was  primarily  to  the  Jewish  nation — rejected  by  the 
heathen,  yet  chosen  again  by  God  as  the  foundation  of  His  earthly  king- 
dom. In  a  higher  spii-itual  sense,  however,  the  Rabbis  themselves  under- 
stood it  of  the  Messiah,  and  thus  there  could  be  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of 
any  Jew  that,  when  now  applied  by  Christ  to  Himself,  it  was  a  direct  claim 
of  Messianic  dignity. 

"You  know  this  verse,  do  you  not?"  continued  Jesus:  "Well,  then, 
because  the  stone  which  you  have  rejected  has  been  chosen  by  God  as  the 
foundation-stone  of  His  New  Spiritual  Kingdom,  every  one  who  shall  fall 
on  it— that  is,  every  one  who,  by  rejecting  me,  the  Messiah,  shall  have 
drawn  down  on  himself,  destruction — will  perish  ;  but  he  on  whom  it  will 
fall— he,  I  mean,  on  whom  I,  the  Messiah,  will  let  loose  my  avenging 
judgments,  for  his  rejection  of  me— will  be  crushed  to  pieces,  small  as  the 
dust  or  chaff  that  is  scattered  to  the  winds. 


PALM    SUNDAY.  G13 

"Therefore,  I  say  to  you,  the  Kingdom  of  God  shall  be  taken  from 
Israel,  and  from  you,  its  present  heads,  and  be  given  to  a  nation  who  will 
render  to  God  the  fruits  He  has  a  right  to  claim  from  it." 

The  guilty  consciences  of  the  chief  priests  and  Pharisees  addressed,  felt, 
instinctively,  that  in  these  parables  He  had  pointed  to  them.  The  vine, 
yard  of  God,  separated  from  the  wilderness  of  heathenism  was,  clearly, 
Israel.  The  Jews  had  been  favoured  by  having  the  "  noble  vine "  of 
Divine  institutions  among  them.  The  tower  which  protected  them  was 
the  Temple  of  God ;  the  husbandmen  were  the  successors  of  Moses, — the 
Priests,  Eabbis,  and  Pharisees,  the  representatives  of  God,  to  whom  of  old, 
when  He  returned  to  heaven  from  Mount  Sinai,  He  had  left  His  vineyard 
with  the  charge  to  tend  it,  and  to  render  Him  duly  its  fruits.  The  servants 
sent  were,  clearly,  the  prophets,  from  their  first  appearance,  in  the  distant 
past,  to  John  the  Baptist.  They  had  been  despised,  beaten,  martyi'ed. 
Only  one  could  follow  them — the  last  and  highest  representative  of  God, 
who  should  have  commanded  respect  even  from  murderers — His  only  and 
well-beloved  Son,  the  Messiah,  who  had  come,  not  as  the  nation  fancied, 
to  bring  them  political  glory  and  earthly  prosperity,  but  to  receive  and 
bear  to  His  Father  the  fruits  which,  kept  back  for  hundreds  of  years, 
could  no  longer  remain  withheld.  But  Jesus,  the  Messiah,  had  long  fore- 
seen His  fate.  He  had  had  it  before  His  eyes  every  hour  since  His  public 
entry  into  Jerusalem.  He,  the  rightful  heir  of  the  vineyard,  had  been 
received  by  the  husbandmen  Avith  jealous  eyes  and  deadly  pui^poses.  The 
revolt  He  had  come  to  end  had  grown  worse.  No  longer  contented  with 
refusing  to  render  the  fruits,  the  holders  of  the  vineyard  now  claimed  it 
as  their  own,  and  were  taking  it  into  their  own  hands ;  casting  out  God,  in 
casting  out  Him  whom  He  had  sent.  The  fierce  anger  of  God  could  not 
long  delay.  The  rebels,  smitten  by  His  wrath,  must  perish.  The  vineyard 
must  pass  into  other  hands.  But  "  the  others  "  could  only  be  the  heathen, 
whom  Israel  despised.  Loyal  to  the  Son,  whom  Israel  had  rejected  and 
slain.  His  disciples  and  followers,  gathered  from  other  nations,  would  be 
entrusted  with  the  inheritance.  Changing  the  figure,  these  would  willingly 
accept,  as  the  foundation  and  chief  corner-stone  of  the  ISTew  Kingdom  of 
God,  Him  whom  the  first  builders— of  whom  those  now  before  Him  were 
the  representatives — had  rejected.  Was  there  any  doubt  that  God  would 
ti'ansfer  that  kingdom  to  those  thus  loyal  to  His  Son?  He  who  now 
stood  before  them,  and  who  at  any  moment  might  be  cast  out  of  the 
Temple  with  ignominy,  and  slain,  must  be  the  foundation  of  the  New 
Theocracy  which  was  to  supplant  the  Old  ! 

The  first  open  attempt  at  violence  followed  this  parable.  The  hier- 
archical party  felt  that  they  were  meant,  and  that  Jesus  had  dared  to  call 
Himself  the  chief  corner-stone  of  the  future  Kingdom  of  God,  which  was 
to  rise  in  the  place  of  that  with  which  all  their  dignities  and  interests 
were  bound  up.  With  wild  Eastern  frenzy,  they  sought  to  arrest  Him  on 
the  spot.  But  as  looks  and  words,  passing  among  them,  betraj-ed  their 
intention  to  the  crowds  around,  these  would  not  permit  Him  to  be  taken, 
counting  Him,  if  not  the  Messiah,  at  least  a  prophet.  Some,  bolder  than 
the  rest,  possibly  laid  hands  on  Him,  but  they  were  forced  by  the  surging 


G14  THE   LIFE    OF   CUEIST. 

miiltitude  to  release  Him.  They  had  to  leave  the  place,  and  suffer  Jesus 
to  escape  for  the  moment.  But  they  had  power,  and  organization,  and  the 
people  would  not  always  be  round  Him  ! 

Left  in  peace,  the  unwearying  Divine  Man  once  more  calmly  betook 
Himself  to  His  task  of  teaching  all  who  would  hear. 

The  die  had  finally  been  cast,  and  the  open  breach  between  Him  and  the 
Church  authorities  had  been  proclaimed  by  Himself  in  His  last  parables. 
Full  of  lofty  indignation  at  the  hypocrisy  and  wilful  blindness  of  His 
adversaries,  no  less  than  of  compassion  for  the  multitude,  He  could  not 
rej)ress  the  crowding  thoughts  which  the  last  hours  raised  in  His  soul, 
and,  as  usual,  they  found  expression  in  additional  parables. 

"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  He  began,  "is  like  a  king  who  made  a 
marriage-feast  for  his  son,  and  sent  forth  his  servants,  as  the  custom  is, 
to  tell  those  who  had  already  been  invited  that  the  time  had  now  arrived. 
But,  though  thus  once  and  again  summoned,  they  would  not  come.  Yet, 
the  king,  unwilling,  in  his  goodness,  that  they  should  not  enjoy  the  feast; 
in  spite  of  this,  sent  other  servants,  once  more,  to  invite  them  again. 
'  Come,'  ran  his  message,  '  for  I  have  prepared  the  first  meal  of  the  feast ; 
my  oxen  and  fatlings  have  been  killed,  and  all  things  are  ready :  come  to 
the  marriage.'  But  they  made  light  of  this  fresh  invitation  as  well,  and 
went  off,  one  to  his  farm,  another  to  his  merchandise,  while  still  others 
took  his  servants,  and  ill-treated,  and  even  killed  them.  Then  the  king 
was  angry,  and  sent  his  soldiers,  and  destroyed  those  murderers,  and 
burned  their  city.  Meanwhile,  he  said  to  his  servants,  'The  marriage 
feast  is  ready,  but  those  who  have  been  called  were  not  worthy.  Go,  there- 
fore, to  the  highways,  where  the  roads  cross  and  there  are  most  passers-by, 
and  invite  to  the  feast  as  many  as  ye  find.' 

"  So  the  servants  went  forth  from  the  palace  of  the  king,  to  the  roads 
and  cross-ways,  and  gathered  together  all,  both  evil  and  good,  who  were 
willing  to  accept  their  invitations,  and  the  feast-chamber  was  filled  with 
guests. 

"  The  king  had  made  all  prepai-ations  for  these  being  nobly  arrayed  in 
festal  robes,  so  as  to  be  worthy  to  appear  before  him. 

"  But,  now,  when  he  came  in  to  welcome  them,  he  saw  among  them  a 
man  who  had  not  put  on  a  marriage  robe.  '  Friend,'  said  he  to  him,  '  how 
is  it  that  you  have  como  in  hither  without  a  marriage  garment  ?  You 
must  needs  have  known  that  I  jDrovided  robes,  fit  for  my  presence,  for  all 
my  guests,  and  that,  to  refuse  or  slight  what  is  thus  offered  is  to  show  me 
the  worst  affront.  You  know  that  to  do  so  is  to  raise  the  severest  indig- 
nation in  a  king  thus  offended.' 

"  But  the  man  was  sjieechless,  for  he  could  not  excuse  himself. 

"  Then  said  the  king  to  his  attendants,  '  Bind  him  hand  and  foot,  and 
cast  him  into  the  thick  darkness  outside.' 

"  Ye  know,"  added  Jesus,  "  how  dark  our  streets  are  in  the  night ;  no 
windows  opening  on  them,  and  no  lights  illumining  them.  That  darkness 
is  but  a  type  of  the  awful  night  into  which  he  will  be  cast  out,  who  appears 
at  the  marriage  feast  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom  without  the  marriage  robe 
provided  by  my  Father.     In  that  darkness  there  will,  indeed,  be  weeping 


PALM   SUNDAY.  615 

and  gnashing  of  teetli,  for  though  multitudes  are  invited  to  the  feast  of 
the  heavenly  kingdom,  many  neglect  to  secure  the  marriage-robe,  without 
which  no  one  can  see  the  king !  " 

The  parable  was  an  enforcement  of  those  just  addressed  to  the  i^riests 
and  Eabbis,  but  with  various  additional  lessons.  The  haughty  sons  of 
Jerusalem  heard,  once  more,  that  Vvhen  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  should 
be  set  up  in  its  glory,  God  would  call  the  heathen  to  a  sha,re  in  it,  while 
the  people  of  Israel,  with  their  religious  leaders— because,  as  a  nation, 
they  had  rejected  his  repeated  invitations — would  no  longer  be  the  one 
people  of  God.  Still  more,  they  would  be  visited  with  the  avenging  wrath 
of  God,  in  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  even  before  the  final  triumphant 
estal)liyhmeut  of  the  New  Divine  Kingdom.  Yet,  among  the  heathen  in- 
vited to  enter  it,  as  among  the  Jews,  God,  at  the  day  of  judgment,  when 
the  king'dom  was  finally  set  uji  for  eternity,  would  separate  and  judge 
those  who  had  been  wanting  in  loyalt}'  to  Him,  and  had  come  into  His 
presence  without  the  preparation  demanded.  Such  would  be  cast  into  the 
outer  darkness  of  Gehenna. 

Thus,  in  the  very  presence  of  imminent  death,  there  was  the  same  tran- 
quillity and  repose  as  on  the  free  hills  of  Galilee,  or  in  the  safe  retreat  of 
Cfesarea  Philippi;  the  same  stupendous  claims  as  Head  of  the  New  King- 
dom of  God,  and  King  over  the  souls  of  men,  for  time  and  eternity. 
Within  a  few  hours  of  crucifixion,  and  conscious  of  the  fact ;  in  the  in- 
ter\  als  of  mortal  contest  with  the  whole  forces  of  the  past  and  present, 
the  wandering  Galilasan  Teacher, — meek  and  lowly  in  spirit,  so  that  the 
poorest  and  the  youngest  instinctively  sought  Him;  full  of  Divine  pity, 
so  that  the  most  sunken  and  hopeless  penitent  felt  He  was  their  friend; 
indifferent  to  the  supports  of  influence,  wealth,  or  numbers ;  alone  and 
poor;  the  very  embodiment  of  weakness,  as  regarded  all  visible  help, — 
still  bore  Himself  with  a  serene  dignity  more  than  human.  In  tlie  name 
of  God  He  transfers  the  spiritual  glory  of  Israel  to  llis  own  followers; 
throws  down  the  barriers  of  caste  and  nationality;  extends  the  new 
dominion  of  which  He  is  Head,  to  all  races,  and  through  all  ages,  here  and 
hereafter;  predicts  the  Divine  wrath  on  His  enemies  in  this  world,  as  the 
enemies  of  God,  and  announces  the  decision  of  the  final  judgment  as 
turning  on  the  attitude  of  men  towards  Himself  and  His  message.  The 
grandeur  of  soul  which  could  so  utterly  ignore  the  outvrai'd  and  apparent, 
and  dwell  on  the  essential  and  eternal;  the  conscious  majesty  in  the  midst 
of  humiliation  and  danger;  the  absolute  trust  that,  if  the  present  belonged 
to  His  adversaries,  the  everlasting  future,  in  earth  and  heaven,  was  all 
His  own,  could  spring  in  such  a  heart,  only  because  it  felt  that  it  was  not 
alone,  but  that,  unseen  by  man,  a  greater  than  man  was  ever  with  Him. 
Only  when  we  realize  Him  as  enjoying  unclouded  and  absolute  communion 
with  eternal  truth  and  love— Man,  but  also  the  Incarnate  Divine— can  r>-e 
ho]3c  to  solve  the  mystery. 


616  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

« 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

JERUSALEM. 

IT  was  still  Tuesday,  and  Jesus  had  not  yet  left  the  Temple  courts.  Tlio 
deputation  from  the  Temple  authorities  had  come  to  Him  in  the  early 
morning,  only  to  retire  mortified  and  silenced ;  but  the  interests  of  all 
parties  were  threatened  by  One  who  demanded  changes  so  fundamental. 

All  alike,  therefore,  however  hostile  at  other  times,  made  common  cause 
in  trying  to  get  the  hated  Eoformer  into  their  power.  It  was  the  same 
spirit  as,  in  after  ages,  when  far  less  fiercely  roused,  burned  Aimold  of 
Brescia  and  John  Huss,  and  strangled  and  burnt  Savonarola,  and  slew 
the  thousands,  of  victims  of  the  Inquisition  :  the  non  possumus  of  a  corrupt 
ecclesiastical  corporation,  which  would  murder  in  the  name  of  God,  be- 
cause that  could  be  called  orthodoxy ;  but  would  not  reform,  because  tu  do 
so  would  touch  their  emoluments  and  their  dignity. 

Plot,  therefore,  thickened  on  plot.  Having  themselves  failed,  iiio 
authorities  sent  some  of  the  Pharisees  in  company  with  Hei'odians,  o'utior- 
wise  their  deadly  enemies,  to  try  to  entangle  Him  by  the  answers  He 
might  give  to  treacherous  questions.  Obscure  men  were  chosen,  men  un- 
known to  Jesus.  They  were  to  pretend  themselves  anxious,  as  sincere 
Jews,  scrupulous  in  all  duties,  to  get  His  counsel  on  a  point  much  disputed. 
The  snare  was  no  longer  laid  in  the  sphere  of  Rabbinical  law,  but  in  the 
more  dangerous  one  of  political  obligation,  that  an  ambiguous  answer 
might  compromise  Him  before  the  Roman  procurator.  If  they  succeeded, 
it  would  at  once  transfer  the  odium  of  His  arrest  from  themselves,  ensure 
His  not  being  rescued,  and  make  it  possible  to  get  Him  put  to  death,  for 
the  power  of  death  was  in  Pilate's  hands  alone. 

The  Pharisees  and  Herodians,  though  from  different  principles,  were 
equally  disloyal  in  heart  to  the  Roman  Emperor.  The  exti'eme  section  of 
the  former  had  developed  into  the  sanguinary  Zealots — the  extreme  left, 
or  irreconcilables,  of  Jewish  politics ;  the  Herodians  were  Jewish  royalists, 
who  sighed  for  the  old  days  of  Archelaus  and  the  Edomite  dynasty. 
With  dexterous  craft,  the  ultra-orthodoxy  of  the  Pharisaic  party  allied  it- 
self with  the  discontented  royalist  faction,  to  tempt  Jesus,  if  possible,  to 
some  bold  expression  of  opinion  on  the  hated  question  of  the  payment  of 
the  Roman  poll-tax,  which  had  already  excited  fierce  insurrections.  If 
He  held  that  payment  should  be  refused,  He  would  compromise  Himself 
with  the  Romans  ;  if  He  sanctioned  it.  He  would  embitter  Himself  both 
with  the  Herodians  and  the  ultra-national  pai'ty.  Danger  lay  on  each 
hand.  On  the  one,  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  multitude  ;  on  the  other,  the 
bailiffs  of  Herod ;  here,  the  cry,  "  Publicans,  sinners ; "  there,  a  Roman 
dungeon.     To  disarm  suspicions,  they  used 

"  Smooth  dissimulation,  taught  to  grace 
A  devil's  purpose  with  an  angel's  face." 

*'  Teacher,"  said  they,  with  soft  accents  and  humble  looks,  "  we  know^ 
indeed,  we  are  fully  convinced — that  Thou  teachest  what  God  requires  of 
man  as  his  duty  in  all  matters,  truly  and  rightly,  and  troublest  not  Thyself 


JERUSALEM.  617 

about  the  opinions  of  men,  but  fearlessly  and  nobly  speakest  what  truth 
demands,  without  thinking  of  consequences,  and  without  caring  who  hears 
Thee,  whether  he  be  rich  or  jDoor,  learned  or  simple,  powerful  or  lowly.  Is 
it  lawful  for  us  Jews  to  pay  tribute  to  CtEsar,  or  not?  We  are  the  people 
of  God ;  God  is  our  King  ;  is  it  in  accordance  with  the  allegiance  we  owe 
to  Him,  as  such,  to  recognise  any  other  king,  as  we  must  do  if  we  pay 
taxes  to  Ciijsar  ?  "  It  was  on  such  reasoning  that  Judas  the  Gaulonite  had 
based  his  fierce  revolt  against  payment  of  the  tax  demanded  after  the 
census  of  Quirinius,  and  his  name  and  opinions  were  venerated  by  the 
closely  packed  multitude  around.  Every  Galilaean  among  them  expected 
a  stern  avowal  of  the  illegality  of  the  demand.  For  Judas  had  taught  the 
youth  of  the  country,  that  to  pay  taxes  to  a  heathen  state  was  not  allow- 
able, and  defiled  the  land,  and  thousands  had  lived  as  fugitives  in  the  caves 
of  the  north,  or  had  died,  for  this  cause. 

The  mode  of  approach  adopted  was  well  fitted  to  throw  Jesus  off  His 
guard.  Eecognition,  even  by  Pharisees,  as  the  brave,  frank,  fearless  Mau 
of  God,  and  appeal  to  Him  in  a  matter  which  might  cost  the  questioner 
his  life,  were  alike  ensnaring.  Frankness  demanded  frankness.  The  cour- 
age of  the  question  called  for  as  much  in  the  reply.  Jesus  knew,  besides, 
that  such  ideas  were  always  fermenting  in  the  mind  of  the  Pharisee  youth, 
and  that  the  Herodians,  instead  of  being  friends  of  Kome,  anxiously  de- 
sired a  change.  Wliy,  therefore,  should  He  distrust  the  new  allies  ?  The 
Eoman  supremacy  was  undoubtedly,  at  bottom,  a  usurpation.  The  strict 
Jew  recognised  no  ruler  but  Jehovah,  and  since  Jesus  had  devoted  His  life 
to  founding  a  "  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  it  seemed  only  natural  that  He  should 
hold  His  followers  free  from  obligations  to  the  kingdoms  of  the  world. 
They  could  not  comprehend  the  spirituality  of  His  conceptions,  for  if  they 
had  not  cherished  a  secret  hope,  that,  in  spite  of  appearances.  He  really 
meditated  an  attack  on  the  Koman  government,  they  would  hardly  have 
asked  such  a  question.  Could  they  only  bring  Him  to  reveal  these  secret 
thoughts,  His  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Eomans,  as  a  crafty  conspirator, 
was  certain,  and  the  hierarchical  party  would  get  their  revenge  against 
the  daring  and  determined,  transgressor  of  Rabbinical  law,  without  the 
odium  of  exacting  it. 

But  Christ's  answer  scattered  their  subtle  plans  to  the  wind. 

"  You  hypocrites  ! — you  actors  !  "  replied  He  ;  "  I  see  through  your  de- 
signs, and  value  your  deceitful  flatteries  at  their  worth.  AYliy  do  you  thus 
seek  to  entrap  me,  under  pretence  of  religious  scruples  which  you  wish  me 
to  solve  for  you  ?  Bring  me  the  coin  you  pay  as  the  Roman  tax."  A  Roman 
denarius  was  presently  brought  Him— a  coin  which  the  Jew  hated  intensely, 
for  it  was  that  in  which  the  poll-tax  was  paid,  and  was,  thus,  the  sign  of 
slavery  to  the  heathen.  Besides,  it  bore  the  idolatrous  image  of  the  Roman 
Emperor  Tibei'ius,  and  the  legend  of  his  authority.  Till  Vespasian's  reign, 
the  Emperors,  to  spare  Jewish  feeling,  had  a  special  coinage  for  Judea, 
without  a  likeness  on  it,  but  only  the  name  of  the  Emperor  and  the  tra- 
ditional Jewish  emblems.  Other  coins,  however,  stamped  with  the  image 
of  Augustus  or  Tiberius,  naturally  found  their  way  to  Jerusalem,  especi- 
ally at  the  feasts.     Such  a  piece  was  now  handed  to  Jesus,  with  the  hope, 


I 


I 


618  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

doubtless,  that  the  double  abomination— the  idolatrous  image  on  one  side, 
and  the  legend  of  Jewish  subjection  on  the  other— might  provoke  Him  to 
some  treasonable  expression. 

"  Whose  image  and  superscription  is  this  p  "  asked  He, 

"  Ca3sar's." 

"  Ecnder  then  to  Ca3sar  the  things  that  arc  Cajsar's,  and  to  God  the 
things  that  are  God's." 

JSTothing  could  be  said  after  such  an  answer.  The  head  of  the  Emperor 
on  the  coin,  and  the  legend  around  it,  were  overt  proofs  of  the  existing 
state  of  things,  and  of  the  cle  facto  right  of  the  imperial  government  to 
levy  taxes.  Hence  followed,  not  only  the  lawfulness,  but  the  duty,  of  pay- 
ing what  was  thus  due  to  the  Eoman  exchequer,  including  the  tax  in  ques- 
tion, since  the  very  coin  in  which  it  was  payable  showed,  on  its  face,  that 
it  was  the  lawful  claim  of  the  ruling  power.  "  But,"  added  Ho,  "  your 
theocratic  duty  is  in  no  way  compromised  by  such  political  obligations. 
Pay  also  what  is  demanded  by  God  as  your  spiritual  King,  as  a  legal  claim 
of  His  government — the  Temple  tax  and  all  that  He  demands  from  you 
besides,  as  His  spiritual  subjects."  The  treacherous  question  was  an- 
swered with  a  clearness,  precision,  and  wisdom,  which  defined  for  all  ages 
the  relations  of  Christianity  to  the  civil  power.  Its  adherents  were  not  to 
oppose  existing  authority,  but  to  unite  their  duty  to  it  with  their  duty  to 
God.  The  political  and  religious  spheres  were  declared  not  opposite  but 
co-existing  and  harmonious,  though  distinct. 

To  realize  the  immense  significance  of  this  utterance,  delivered  as  it 
was,  on  the  moment  without  an  instant's  hesitation,  we  must  remember 
that  it  introduced  an  entirely  new  conception  of  the  relation  of  Church 
and  State.  Till  then,  over  the  world,  they  had  been  identical.  The  Caesar 
was  chief  priest  as  well  as  emperor,  and  the  colleges  of  priests  and  augurs 
were  political  institutions.  In  Judea,  the  two  spheres,  henceforth  to  be 
separated,  had,  hitherto,  been  confused  and  intermixed ;  the  civil  power 
was  the  instrument  of  the  priest ;  its  institutions  v/ere  religious,  and  the 
priesthood  had  striven  after  kingly  power  and  rank.  Henceforward,  the 
new  Society  was  to  stand  apart  from  political  interests  and  authorities. 
The  State  was  no  longer  indispensable  to  its  perfect  completeness  and  effi- 
ciency. The  sphere  of  religion  was  that  of  the  conscience,  which  is,  by 
its  nature,  free.  The  State  cannot  leave  the  payment  of  its  imj^ositions  to 
goodwill ;  it  must  enforce  them,  if  they  be  refused ;  but  force  is  uttei-ly 
opposed  to  the  idea  of  the  Kingdom  of  God.  In  it,  voluntary  service  alone 
has  value.  What  is  yielded  to  force,  without  inner  truth  and  love,  is,  be- 
fore God,  as  if  not  given  at  all ;  what  is  given  in  hypocritical  self-interest, 
is  an  abomination  to  Him. 

No  wonder  such  an  answer  filled  the  messengers  of  the  hierarchical  party 
with  astonishment.  It  was  not  only  not  treasonable,  but  indirectly  pressed 
on  the  nation  the  conscientious  discharge  of  its  duties  to  Eome.  But  they 
could  not  grasp  its  whole  significance,  for  they  had  no  conception  of  a  reli- 
gious community  which  had  not  the  right  and  power  to  inflict  civil  penal- 
ties. The  Old  Testament  economy  was,  itself,  the  State,  Obedience  to  its 
requirements  was  enforced  by  the  national  courts,  and  an  attempt  to  change 


JERUSALEM.  619 

or  transgress  them  was  severely  punislied.  Jesus,  Himself,  indeed,  was 
about  to  atone  with  His  life  for  His  offences  against  the  established  and 
traditional  religious  usages  and  opinions  of  the  ruling  caste.  The  idea 
of  freedom  of  conscience  and  faith,  which  was  the  very  starting-point  of 
His  teaching,  was  a  stumbling-block  and  a  ground  of  bitterness  to  His 
age.  The  conception  of  a  religion  in  which  there  was  no  responsibility 
except  to  God,  was  beyond  it. 

All  the  influential  Jewish^  parties  had  now  united  against  Him,  as  a 
dangerous  innovator,  an  enemy  of  the  Eabbinical  "  hedge  "  of  human  pre- 
scriptions and  refinements,  which  was  the  essence  of  the  religion  of  the  day. 
If  tolerated  longer.  He  might  win  over  the  people  to  favour  His  demand  for 
fundamental  reform.  The  Pharisees  and  Herodians  had  hardly  left  Him 
when  some  aristocratic  Sadducees  renewed  the  attack.  The  clergy  of  all 
classes,  from  highest  to  lowest,  were  against  Him.  His  support  was  among 
the  people.  His  appearance  in  the  Temple,  His  assumption  of  authority 
over  it,  and  His  lofty  claim  to  be  the  Messiah,  filled  the  official  Avorld  with 
alarm,  and  united  them  to  crush  Him.  But  the  Sadducees  had  none  of 
the  earnestness  of  the  Pharisees.  They  were  the  prototypes  of  the  scoff- 
ing and  infidel  priests  whom  Luther  found,  almost  fifteen  hundred  years 
after,  in  Eome  ;  who,  while  apparently  consecrating  the  Holy  Sacrament, 
were  parodying  the  words  of  the  Office.  The  Pharisees  had  early  taken 
offence  at  Jesus,  for  they  were  zealots  for  the  Rabbinism  He  attacked ;  but 
the  Sadducees — few,  rich,  dignified ;  the  primate  and  bishops  of  the  day — 
affected  at  first  only  to  despise  the  Galileean,  who,  like  so  many  before 
Him,  had  stirred  up  commotion  for  the  time  among  His  rude  compatriots. 
Even  now,  in  Jerusalem,  they  were  disposed  to  look  at  Him  and  His  ad- 
herents with  a  lofty  contempt,  and  to  laugh  the  foolish  rabble  who  listened 
to  Him  out  of  their  fanatical  dreams.  His  claims,  were,  in  their  opinion, 
more  silly  than  dangerous,  and  they  would,  therefore,  bring  the  whole 
matter  into  contempt,  by  making  it  ridiculous. 

For  this  end  they  had  carefully  selected,  from  the  cases  invented  by 
Eabbinical  casuistry,  that  of  a  wife  who  was  supposed,  in  accordance  with 
the  Mosaic  law,  to  have  married  in  succession  seven  brothers,  each  of 
whom  died  without  children.  Though  an  imaginary,  it  was  a  possible 
case,  for  the  Law  enacted,  that,  if  a  husband  died  without  leaving  a  son  to 
perpetuate  his  name,  his  brother  must  marry  the  widow,  and  the  first-born 
son  of  this  second  marriage  was  to  be  entered  in  the  public  register  as  the 
son  of  the  dead  man. 

Not  themselves  believing  in  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  and  sup- 
posing that  Jesus,  who,  they  had  heard,  taught  it,  held  the  same  notions 
as  they  ascribed  to  the  Pharisees,  they  fancied  they  could  cover  Him  and 
it  with  ridicule,  by  a  skilful  use  of  this  case.  Some  of  the  Eabbis,  indeed, 
had  purer  conceptions  than  others,  teaching  that  in  the  kingdom  of  the 
Messiah,  after  the  resm-rection,  or  at  least  in  the  future  world,  the  just 
would  neither  eat,  drink,  nor  marry.  But  they  were  exceptions ;  for  the 
popular  belief,  as  expressed  by  the  Eabbis  generally,  was  gross  and  un- 
worthy in  the  extreme.  The  resurrection  would  not  only  restore  men  to 
their  former  bodies,  but  to  their  bodily  appetites  and  passions ;  they  would 


620  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

not  only  eat,  drink,  and  take  -wives,  but  would  rise  in  tlie  clothes  tliny  wore 
in  life,  if  buried  with  them,  and  even  with  all  their  bodily  blemishes  and 
defects,  "  that  men  might  know  them  to  be  the  same  persons  as  they  knew 
in  life."  Even  the  case  supposed  by  the  Sadducees  had  been  settled  in 
principle, — "  for  the  woman  who  had  married  two  husbands  in  this  world," 
Bays  the  Book  Sohar,  "  in  the  world  to  come  will  be  given  to  the  first." 

Fancying  there  was  no  sanction  in  the  Pentateuch,  either  for  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul  or  the  resurrection,  the  Sadducees  sneered  at  both 
doctrines.  "  They  deny  the  resurrection  after  death,"  says  the  Talmud, 
"  and  maintain  that  it  is  as  vain  to  hope  that  a  clou.d  which  has  vanished 
will  appear  again,  as  that  the  grave  will  give  back  its  dead." 

Coming  to  Jesus,  with  a  well-bred  politeness,  they  put  their  question 
softly,  addressing  Him  respectfully,  in  imitation  of  the  Pharisees  and 
Herodians,  as  Rabbi,  for  which  they  iised  the  current  Greek  equivalent. 

"  Your  ideas  respecting  these  things  are  wrong,"  replied  Jesus,  "  from 
your  not  understanding  correctly  the  Scriptures  which  refer  to  them. 
The  children  of  this  world  marry  and  are  given  in  marriage,  because  they 
are  mortal,  and  marriage  is  necessary  to  perpetuate  the  race.  But  those 
who  shall  be  counted  worthy  to  enter  the  Heavenly  Kingdom  of  the  Mes- 
siah, and  will  be  raised  from  the  dead  to  do  so,  neither  marry  nor  are 
given  in  marriage,  neither  can  they  die  any  more,  for  they  will  be  im- 
mortal, like  angels  ;  and  hence  there  is  no  reason  for  their  marrying  and 
raising  children  to  take  their  place,  as  with  men  in  this  world.  As  sons 
of  the  resurrection,  they  are  sons  of  God,  and,  like  the  angels,  will  live 
for  ever. 

"  As  to  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  you  have  referred  to  Moses.  But 
let  me  also  refer  to  him.  Even  he  shows,  in  the  passage  in  which  we  are 
told  of  the  vision  at  the  burning  bush,  that  the  dead  are  raised.  For  he 
calls  Jehovah,  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob.  Now,  God  cannot 
be  the  God  of  persons  who  do  not  exist,  and,  therefore,  the  patriarchs, 
though  their  bodies  were  dead,  must  themselves  have  been  still  living — 
living,  I  mean,  in  the  separate  state,  and  awaiting  the  resurrection.  Thus, 
God  regards  all  the  dead  as  still  living,  and,  if  this  be  the  case,  how  easy 
for  Him  to  raise  them  hereafter  !  " 

"  Eabbi,  Thou  hast  spoken  well,"  said  some  scribes,  as  He  closed.  They 
were,  for  the  moment,  won  to  His  side,  by  His  triumph  over  their  bitter 
Sadducee  enemies.  Meanwhile,  the  people  were  more  than  ever  astonished 
at  His  teaching,  and  disposed  to  think  Him  a  prophet. 

It  soon  spread  abroad  that  the  Sadducees  had  been  silenced ;  but  the 
Pharisees  had  already  prepared  a  new  attempt  to  entrap  Him.  One  of 
them,  who  had  listened  to  the  dispute — a  scribe,  or  Master  of  the  Law- 
had  been  selected  to  be  their  spokesman,  but,  as  it  proved,  was  only  half- 
hearted in  His  task.  The  Rabbis  taught  that  there  were  great  and  small 
commands  in  the  laws — the  one  hard  and  weighty,  the  other  easy  and  of 
less  moment.  Their  idea  of  greatness,  however,  was  independent  of  the 
religious  importance  of  a  particular  precept,  and  was  determined  only  by 
their  own  arbitrary  enactments.  Thus,  commands  were  especially  called 
great,  to  the  transgression  of  which  excommunication  was  attached ;  such 


JERUSALEM.  G21 

fis  observance  of  the  Sabbath  in  their  sense,  of  circnmcisiou,  of  the 
minutest  rites  of  sacrifice  and  offering,  of  ceremonial  purity,  and  the  like. 
The  precepts  respecting  the  structure  of  the  booths  at  the  Feast  of  Taber- 
nacles, and  of  the  washing  the  hands,  were,  on  the  contrary,  counted  small. 
But,  in  spite  of  this  nominal  difference,  obedience  to  all  was  alike  impera- 
tive, and  in  practice,  both  classes  were  treated  as  alike  weighty.  To 
honour  one's  parents  and  to  let  a  mother-bird  fly  when  the  young  are 
taken,  not  to  kill,  and  to  wash  the  hands,  were  put  on  a  level,  and  had  an 
equal  reward.  Even  the  injunctions  of  the  Eabbis  respecting  the  zizith 
or  tassels  of  their  scarves,  were  "  great."  "  The  words  of  the  Eabbis," 
says  the  Talmud,  "  are  to  be  prized  al)ove  tliose  of  the  Law,  for  the  words 
of  the  Law  are  both  weighty  and  light,  but  those  of  the  Eabbis  are  all 
weighty."  Any  answer  of  Jesus  on  a  subject  so  delicate,  might  perhaps 
once  moi'e  commit  Him,  as  an  enemy  of  the  traditions,  and  expose  Him  to 
new  charges. 

It  may  be,  there  was,  besides,  a  lurking  desire  to  elicit  some  utterance 
respecting  His  claims  to  a  more  than  human  authority.  Stones  had  been 
lifted  more  than  once,  to  put  Him  to  death  as  a  blasphemer,  who  made 
Himself  equal  with  God.  How  would  He  express  Himself  in  the  face  of 
the  first  command  of  the  Decalogue  ? 

His  reply,  as  always,  goes  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  simplifying  the 
whole  sweep  of  "  the  Ten  Words  "  into  brief  and  easily  remembered  prin- 
ciples. He  avoided  the  least  approach  to  anything  that  could  offend  the 
most  zealous  supporter  of  the  Old  Testament,  and,  at  the  same  time,  gave 
no  handle  for  accusation  of  any  slight  of  the  Eabbinical  precepts. 

"  Teacher,"  said  the  legalist,  "  which  is  the  great  and  first  command- 
ment in  the  Law  ?  " 

No  one  could  take  Jesus  by  surprise  at  any  time,  but  in  this  sphere  He 
was,  if  we  may  so  speak,  especially  at  home,  as  He  had  shown  a  few  days 
before,  in  His  conversation  with  the  young  ruler,  near  Jericho.  Conscious 
of  the  supreme  peril  of  His  position.  He  answered  with  more  fulness  than 
usual,  leaving  no  ground  for  misapprehension,  but  giving  as  little  for 
offence.  To  the  young  ruler  He  had  named  only  one  command — the  love 
of  our  neighbour— as  gre:it,  but  to  the  scribe  He  gave  two,  as  forming,  to- 
gether, "  the  great  and  first  commandment."  Neither  was  abridged,  or  sub- 
ordinated to  the  other,  and  in  the  two  He  formed  the  principle  from  which 
obedience  of  all  the  rest  would  follow.  With  sure  hand,  He  turned  first  to- 
the  Fifth  Book  of  Moses,  then  to  the  Third,  for  the  two  great  guiding  stars 
which  all  the  host  of  lesser  commands  followed.  "  Hear,  0  Israel,"  said 
He :  "  Jehovah,  our  God,  is  one  Jehovah  "—words  in  which  every  Israelite, 
night  and  morning,  confessed  his  faith  in  Jehovah — "  And  thou  shalt  love 
the  Lord  Thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength.  This  is  the  great  and  first  command- 
ment. A  second  is  like  it.  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 
There  is  none  other  command  greater  than  these.  On  these  two  hang  the 
whole  Law  and  the  prophets." 

He  had  once  more  shown  His  greatness  as  a  teacher,  by  summing  up 
our  whole  duty  in  the  fundamental  conceptions  of  religion  and  morality; 


I 


G22  THE   LIl-'E   OF   CHRIST. 

in  the  love  to  God,  wliicli  is  also  love  to  His  children,  our  fellow-men.  Nor 
were  the  various  commands  of  any  part  of  the  Scri])tures  overlooked ;  tho 
religious  and  moral  precepts  of  the  jiropliets,  no  less  than  the  Law,  were 
honoured  and  made  binding  for  ever. 

"  Thou  hast  spoken  well  and  truly,"  broke  in  the  scribe,  "  for  God  is 
One,  and  there  is  no  other  but  He,  and  to  love  Him  with  all  tho  heart,  and 
with  all  the  understanding,  and  with  all  the  soul,  and  with  all  the  strength, 
and  to  love  one's  neighbour  as  one's  self,  is  of  greater  consequence  than  all 
the  whole-burnt-offerings  of  the  Law,  the  morning  and  evening  sacrifice, 
and  all  other  sacrifices  besides." 

"  Thou  art  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,"  replied  Jesus,  as  He  heard 
words  which  showed  that  the  speaker  was  no  mere  man  of  his  party,  but 
was  accessible  to  higher  impulses.  The  Galilaoan  had  proved  very  different 
from  what  he  had  been  led  to  anticipate.  His  answers  had  not  only  silenced 
His  enemies,  but  had  half  won  some  of  them  to  His  side.  Henceforth,  all 
alike  kept  aloof  from  One  who  sent  away  chief  priests  and  Eabbis  equally 
humbled  and  silenced. 

As  on  the  day  before,  the  defeat  of  all  the  attacks  on  Him  was  followed 
by  His  taking  the  offensive,  but  only  in  a  mild,  instructive  coniiict  with 
prejudice  and  misapprehension.  He  had  openly  assumed  the  Messiahship, 
though  in  a  sense  entirely  in  contrast  with  the  popular  conception.  That 
He  fulfilled  none  of  the  conditions  expected  in  the  Messiah,  alike  by  the 
authorities  and  the  people,  had  given  the  former  the  pretext  for  spreading 
it  abroad  that  He  was  an  impostor  ;  a  cry  caught  up,  in  the  end  only  too 
widely  by  the  Jerusalem  populace.  He  would  now  sliow  the  Pharisees,  if 
they  chose  to  listen,  that  their  preconceptions  were  wrong,  when  tested  by 
Scripture,  and  thus  expose  the  worthlessness  of  the  arguments  on  which 
they  had  based  their  light  denial  of  His  Messiahship. 

Turning  unexpectedly  to  a  knot  of  Pharisees,  who  hung  near,  to  watch 
as  He  was  teaching,  Ho  asked  them— 

"  "Wliat  is  your  opinion  about  the  Messiah  ;  I  mean,  as  to  His  lineage  and 
extraction — whose  son  is  He  ?  " 

"  The  Son  of  David,"  answered  they,  at  once. 

"How  is  it,  then,"  replied  Jesus,  "  that  David,  in  the  hundred  and  tenth 
Psalm,  which  you  Eabbis  justly  refer  to  the  Messiah,  says,  by  inspiration 
of  God,  '  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord,  the  Messiah,  Sit  thou  on  my  right 
hand,  till  I  make  thine  enemies  thy  footstool.  Thy  mighty  sceptre  will  the 
Eternal  stretch  forth  out  of  Zion  ;  rule  thou  in  the  midst  of  thy  foes.'  If 
He  be  David's  Lord,  how  can  He  be  his  Son  ?  " 

ISTot  knowing  what  to  say,  they  were  silent.  The  true  answer  was  one 
which  had  not  entered  their  thoughts.  It  would  have  been — He  is  David's 
Son  by  His  human  descent,  but,  as  the  Son  of  God,  proceeding  from  the 
Father,  He  is  exalted  far  above  David  and  all  mankind,  and  therefore  was 
rightly  called,  by  David,  his  Lord.  Bub  this  twofold  relation  of  the  Mes- 
siah to  their  great  king,  and,  with  it,  the  true  estimate  of  the  dignity  and 
office  of  the  Messiah,  were  not  in  their  theology.  The  exposition  of  Jesus 
might  displease  the  Eabbis,  but  it  was  heard  with  eager  ears  by  the  multi- 
tude around. 


JERUSALEM.  623 

A  ncAV  scene  now  opened.  Day  after  day,  the  liostility  of  His  enemies 
liad  shown  itself  more  fierce,  as  they  found  it  increasingly  hopeless  to  over- 
come Him  by  legitimate  weapons  or  argument.  The  people,  however,  were 
more  friendly,  and  regarded  Him  as,  at  least,  a  prophet,  if  not  the  Messiah. 
He  had  hitherto  maintained  only  a  defensive  attitude,  but  the  clear  pur- 
pose shown  to  put  Him  out  of  the  way,  made  all  further  reserve  or  caution 
useless.  With  the  calmness  of  a  j^rofonnd  conviction,  and  the  clearest 
statement  of  His  grounds,  He  proceeded  to  open  a  vigorous  attack,  that 
the  contrast  between  Himself  and  His  opponents  might  be  beyond  ques- 
tion. Every  one  must  be  enabled  to  judge  intelligently  on  which  side  he 
would  take  his  place.  A  speedy  decision  of  the  struggle  was,  henceforth, 
to  be  desired. 

Jesus  now,  therefore,  broke  out,  before  the  multitude,  in  a  last  terrible 
denunciation  of  the  moral  and  religious  short-comings  of  His  enemies. 
These  He  summed  up  under  the  two  great  heads  of  hypocrisy  and  selfish- 
ness ;  they  made  a  pretence  and  a  gain  of  religion.  Yet  their  doctrines 
and  decisions  were  substantially  right  ;  it  was  their  practice  He  con- 
demned. 

"  The  scribes  and  Pharisees,"  said  He,  '"'  have  taken  possession  of  the 
seat  of  Moses,  to  continue  his  office  as  law-giver,  by  explaining  and  teach- 
ing the  Law.  They  are  his  official  successors  ;  therefore,  obey  their  deci- 
sions. But  do  not  imitate  their  lives,  for  they  teach  what  they  do  not 
])ractise.  They  heap  together  their  rules  and  demands  into  heavy  burdens, 
and  lay  them  on  men's  shoulders,  but  they  will  not  help  those  whom  they 
thus  load,  by  so  much  as  the  touch  of  a  little  finger.  They  shirk  many 
rites  and  forms  which  they  demand  from  others  as  sacred  duties.  Their 
requirements  are  a  weight  on  the  conscience,  which  deadens  and  destroys 
it.  To  exalt  their  order,  they  make  slaves  of  the  people,  paralyzing  by 
their  countless  laws,  all  true  virtue,  freedom,  and  love.  They  act  only  with 
an  eye  to  effect  ;  to  be  thought  more  religious  than  others,  a^nd  reap  con- 
sideration and  profit  from  this  reputation.  They  come  6ut  to  pray  in  their 
most  pious  robes,  especially  now,  at  the  feast,  and  wear  phylacteries  of 
extra  size  on  their  forehead  and  arm  that  they  may  be  noticed,  while  the 
very  tassels  hung,  in  honour  of  the  Law,  at  the  corners  of  their  abbas,  are 
larger  than  those  of  others.  To  get  honour,  they  strive  for  the  highest 
jolaces  at  feasts,  and  the  chief  seats  in  the  synagogues,  and  court  saluta- 
tions in  the  crowded  market-place,  and  the  sounding  title,  Eabbi.  Have 
nothing  to  do  with  such  proiTd  names,  for  I,  only,  am  your  Eabbi  or  teacher, 
and  all  ye  are  brethren.  They  like  to  be  called  '  Father,'  but  call  no 
teacher  on  earth  your  father,  for  one  only  is  your  father — God,  in  Heaven. 
And  do  not,  like  them,  be  called  Leaders,  for  you  have  only  one  Leader, 
me,  the  Messiah.  The  higiiest  place  among  my  disciples  is  quite  otherwise 
oljtained  than  among  them,  for  he  who  seeks  to  be  great  among  you  can 
become  so,  as  I  have  said  before,  only  by  being  the  servant  of  the  rest. 
This  lowliness  is  itself  his  greatness.  For  he  who  exalts  himself  shall  be 
humbled  at  my  coming,  and  he  who  humbles  himself  will  be  exalted." 

Rising,  as  He  proceeded.  He  now  Invoke  out  into  a  lofty  utterance  of  in- 
dignation at  such  ]U'iuciples  and  conduct. 


624  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Phainsees,  actors  !  Ye  plunder  the  houses  of 
desolate  -nddows,  left  without  jirotectors,  and  to  hide  your  doings,  make 
long  prayers  while  at  such  work  !  For  you  say  in  your  hypocrisy,  *  Long 
prayers  make  a  long  life,'  and  some  of  you  boast  that  you  pray  nine  hours 
a  day !  Believe  me,  you  will  receive  for  all  this  the  greater  damnation 
hereafter. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors  !  Ye  stand  in  the  gateway 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven — that  Kingdom  I  have  come  to  set  up — and  not 
only  do  not  yourselves  enter,  but  even  close  the  doors  I  have  opened,  that 
you  may  keep  those  from  entering  who  wish  to  do  so. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors  !  Instead  of  helping  men 
into  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  ye  compass  sea  and  land  to  make  one 
proselyte,  that  your  party  may  profit  by  him,  and,  when  he  is  gained,  what 
do  you  make  of  him  ?  A  son  of  hell,  by  your  example,  and  that  twofold 
more  than  even  yourselves. 

"  Woe  to  you,  blind  guides,  who  say,  '  If  any  one  swear  by  the  Temple,  it 
Is  not  binding ;  but  if  he  swear  by  the  gold  which  belongs  to  the  Temple — 
the  gilding,  the  golden  vessels,  or  the  treasure— he  is  bound  by  his  oath.' 
Fools  and  blind !  for  which  is  the  greater,  the  gold,  or  the  Temple  that 
sanctifies  the  gold  ?  You  say,  in  the  same  spirit,  '  If  any  one  swear  by  the 
altar,  his  oath  is  not  binding  on  him  ;  but  if  he  swear  by  the  gift  that  he 
has  laid  on  the  altar,  he  must  keep  his  oath.'  Fools  and  blind  !  for  which 
is  the  greater,  the  gift,  or  the  altar  that  sanctifies  the  gift  ?  He  who 
swears  by  the  altar,  swears  by  it  and  by  all  the  things  on  it,  and  he  who 
swears  by  the  Temple,  swears  by  it  and  by  Him  that  dwells  in  it.  And  he 
who  swears  by  heaven,  swears  by  the  throne  of  God  and  by  Him  who  sits 
on  it. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors  !  for  ye  affect  to  be  so  strict 
in  observing  the  Law  that  you  pay  a  tenth  to  the  Temple  of  even  the  sprigs 
of  mint  and  anise  and  cummin  in  j'our  garden  borders,  and  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  you  neglect  the  great  commands  of  the  Law, — to  do  justly,  to 
love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  your  God.  You  ought  certainly  to 
attend  to  the  lighter  demands  of  the  Law,  but  surely  not  to  leave  the  far 
greater  neglected.  Blind  guides,  who  strain  out  the  gnat  from  the  wine 
and  swallow  the  camel !  Sticklers  for  worthless  trifles,  regardless  of 
matters  of  moment. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors !  Ye  make  clean  the  outside 
of  the  cup  and  the  dish,  but,  within,  they  are  full  of  robbery  and  inconti- 
nence. Blind  Pharisee,  clean  first  the  inside  of  the  cup  and  dish,  that  the 
wine  taste  no  more  of  plunder  and  lust,  and  that  the  outside  may  not  only 
seem  clean  by  your  washing  it,  but  he  clean,  by  the  taking  away  of  that 
defilement  which  your  life  gives  it,  in  spite  of  your  cleansings. 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors !  You  are  like  the  white- 
washed tombs  all  over  the  land — fair  outside,  but  full  within  of  the  dead- 
liest uncleanness,  the  bones  of  men,  and  all  corruption.  You  pass  your- 
selves off  as  religious,  but  in  your  hearts  you  are  full  of  hypocrisy  and 
iniquity." 

Over  against  the  eastern  hall  in  which  Jesus  now  stood,  and  from  which 


JERUSALEM.  G25 

He  looked  down  into  the  Valley  of  the  Kedron,  lay,  on  the  slope  of  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  the  tombs  of  the  Prophets,  the  southernmost  of  which  is 
yet  known  as  the  Tomb  of  Zechariah.  In  sight  of  these  monuments, 
ranging  His  eyes  from  grave  to  grave,  He  burst  out  afresh, — 

"  Woe  to  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  actors  !  Ye  build  tine  tombs  over 
the  old  prophets,  and  beautify  those  of  the  saints,  and  say,  '  If  we  had 
lived  in  the  days  of  our  fathers,  we  would  not  have  taken  part  with  them 
in  their  martyrdom  of  these  holy  men.'  But  when  you  call  them  '  your 
fathers,'  you  bear  witness  that  you  are  their  sons,  and  you  are,  not  only 
in  natural  descent,  but  in  your  spirit.  You  are  of  kin  in  heart  to  the  mur- 
derers of  the  prophets  !  Fill  up,  therefore,  the  measure  of  iniquity  your 
fathers  before  you  filled  in  their  day, — by  slaying  me  and  those  I  shall 
send  to  you !  Serpents  !  brood  of  vipers,  for  vipers  your  fathers  were,  and 
vipers  are  ye,  how  can  ye  escape  the  judgment  of  hell !  That  ye  may  not 
do  so,  behold  I  send  to  you  prophet-like  Apostles,  and  Rabbis,  and  scribes. 
Some  of  them  ye  shall  kill  and  crucify ;  some  ye  shall  scourge  in  your 
synagogues,  and  persecute  from  city  to  city — that  on  you,  the  leaders  of 
the  people,  may  come  the  punishment  of  all  the  innocent  righteous  blood 
shed  on  the  earth ;  from  the  blood  of  righteous  Abel  to  that  of  Zechariah, 
the  son  of  Berechiah,  who  was  stoned  by  command  of  King  Joash,  in  the 
court  of  the  Temple,  between  the  shrine  and  the  altar.  Believe  me,  all 
these  things  will  come  in  this  generation."  Zechariah,  of  old,  had  denounced 
the  sin  of  Israel,  as  Jesus  had  that  of  the  priests  and  Rabbis.  "  Why  trans- 
gress ye,"  he  had  asked,  "  the  commandments  of  the  Lord  ?  Ye  cannot 
prosper !    Because  ye  have  forsaken  Jehovah,  He  hath  forsaken  you." 

"  O  Jerusalem !  Jerusalem !  He  continued,  "  that  killest  the  prophets, 
and  stonest  those  sent  in  love  to  thee ;  how  often  have  I  desired  to  gather 
thy  children,  as  a  hen  gathers  her  chickens  under  her  wing,  and  ye  refused 
to  accept  me  as  the  Messiah,  and  thus  come  under  my  loving  protection. 
Behold,  your  house  is  left  to  you  !  I  go  from  it.  The  time  of  the  Divine 
help  and  guard  over  you  and  your  city,  which  I  was  sent  to  offer,  is  past. 

"  I  tell  you  ye  shall  not  see  me  henceforth,  after  my  death,  which  is  near 
at  hand,  till  I  appear  again  in  my  glory.  Then,  you  shall  be  only  too  eagerly 
willing  to  hail  me  as  the  Messiah,  though  now  ye  refuse  even  to  let  others 
thus  honour  me.  Then,  when  too  late,  you  will  cry,  as  the  crowds  did  as  I 
entered  your  city,  '  Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  " 

Thus,  the  breach  between  the  Future  and  the  Past  was  finally  made 
complete.  The  whole  hierarchy,  from  the  high  priest  its  primate,  to  the 
Levite  its  curate,  and  the  Rabbi  its  university  professor  or  tutor,  had  been 
denounced  before  the  people,  in  language  which  they  must  resent  if  they 
were  to  retain  any  authority  at  all.  Either  Jesus,  or  the  Church  as  it  was, 
with  all  its  innumerable  personal  interests,  must  perish.  It  had  come  to 
this,  indeed,  before  this  last  tremendous  indictment  of  the  system,  and  the 
certainty  that  nothing  could  avert  His  being  sacrificed  to  the  fana- 
ticism and  vested  interests  arrayed  against  Him,  had  alone  caused  such  a 
protest.  He  had  no  reasons  for  further  reserve.  It  was  evident  that  He 
must  die  at  their  hands,  and  the  irreconcilable  opposition  between  the 
system  for  the  sake  of  which  He  was  to  be  martyred,  and  His  own  char- 

s  s 


626  THE    LIFE    OF    CHEIST. 

acter  and  work,  must,  once  more,  for  the  last  time,  be  brought  out  in  full 
contrast,  that  every  one  might  choose  for  which  he  would  decide. 

The  infinite  moral  grandeur  and  purity  of  Jesus,  His  absolute  truth, 
His  all-embracing  love,  His  lowly  humility.  His  sublime  consecration  to 
the  will  of  His  Father,  His  intense  moral  earnestness.  His  spirit  of  joyful 
self-sacrifice  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  good  of  mankind,  shine  out  no- 
where more  transcendently,  than  when  contrasted  in  this  parting  lament, 
with  the  wretched  soi^histrics  and  reverence  for  the  infinitely  little,  which 
marked  the  Rabbinism  He  opposed.  The  spirit  of  the  market  or  the 
booth,  in  religion,  found  no  sanction  at  His  hands ;  He  would  have  no 
huckstering  for  heaven  by  a  life  of  petty  formalities  ;  He  abhorred  all  cant 
and  insincerity,  and  all  trading  with  religion ;  all  striving  after  mere  out- 
ward success,  for  ulterior  and  unworthy  ends.  He  would  have  no  divorce 
of  religion  from  morality  ;  it  was  with  Him  a  living  principle  in  the  heart, 
not  a  rubric  of  external  acts  ;  its  outward  expression  was  a  holy  life,  but 
the  holiness  without  was  only  the  blossoming  of  a  similar  holiness  within. 
In  Rabbinism,  on  the  contrary,  there  was  formal  piety,  with  no  moral 
I  earnestness ;  an  absorbing  zeal  for  artificial  duties,  with  which  the 
i  conscience  had  nothing  to  do  ;  and  an  elaborate  multiplication  of  rules  and 
I  rites,  for  the  express  aim  of  obtaining  the  absolute  spiritual  dependence 
'  of  all  on  the  teaching  caste.  The  whole  system  had  been  originated  and 
developed  to  its  fulness,  to  be  a  "hedge"  round  the  Law,  and  thus  secure 
fidelity  to  the  politico-religious  constitution  of  the  nation,  and  its  minutest 
details  were  strenuously  enforced  to  secure  this  end.  Unquestioning 
acceptance  of  tradition,  and  the  deepening  and  extending  of  the  ghostly  in- 
fluence of  the  authorities,  were  the  two  great  points  kept  in  view.  There 
were  true  Israelites,  like  Nathanaol,  or  Zechariah,  or  Simeon,  or  Joseph, 
in  spite  of  a  system  thus  lifeless  and  corrupting ;  but  it  was  vain  to  hope 
for  anything  but  evil  in  the  community  at  large,  under  its  reign.  Insin- 
cerity and  immorality  in  the  teachers  of  a  religion  can  only  multiply  and 
perpetuate  themselves  in  their  disciples. 

The  theology  and  hierarchy  of  Judaism  had  become,  in  fact,  what  Jesus 
openly  declared  them — whitewashed  sepulchres,  pure  to  the  eye,  but  with 
death  and  corruption  within.  They  had  proved  that  they  were  so,  by 
rejecting  Him,  because  He  demanded  moral  and  religious  reform.  "Wedded 
to  the  false  and  immoral,  they  rather  killed  Him  than  let  Him  lead  them 
back  to  God. 

Over  such  a  state  of  things  He  could  only  raise  His  sad  lamentation ! 
Judaism  had  chosen  its  own  way,  and  left  Him  to  His. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

THE   INTERVAL. 

A  FTER  His  terrible  parting  denunciation  of  the  religious  leaders  of 
-^-^  the  nation,  Jesus  passed  into  the  spacious  Court  of  the  Women, 
fifteen  steps  below  that  of  the  men.  It  was  a  wide  space  of  a  hundi-ed  and 
thirty-five  cubits  in  length  and  breadth,  and  was  open  to  the  people  at 


THE   INTERVAL.  627 

large.  Popular  assemblies,  indeed,  were  at  times  lield  in  it,  and  it  was 
the  scene  of  the  torch-dance  at  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles.  It  was  especi- 
ally frequented,  however,  by  both  sexes,  because  the  building  in  which  the 
pious  presented  their  offerings  formed  part  of  one  of  its  sides. 

After  the  multiplied  excitements  of  the  past  hours,  Jesus  had  sat  down 
to  rest  over  against  the  treasiay,  where  the  continuous  stream  of  persons 
casting  in  their  money  necessarily  attracted  His  notice.  As  each  came, 
He  could  judge  by  his  appearance  how  much  he  threw  in.  The  poor  could 
only  give  paltry  copper  coins,  but  the  rich  cast  in  gold  and  silver;  some, 
doubtless,  from  an  honest  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God ;  others,  because  alms, 
in  the  sordid  theology  of  the  day,  had  their  commercial  value  in  the  future 
world. 

Among  the  rest,  came  a  poor  widow,  with  her  two  lepta — one-twelfth  of  f 
our  penny,  each — the  smallest  of  copjier  coins.  She  could  not  have  cast 
in  less,  for  one  lepton  was  not  received  as  an  offering.  The  sight  touched 
the  heart  of  Jesus.  "  Believe  me,"  said  He,  to  those  around,  "  this  poor 
woman  has  cast  in  more  than  any  one,  for  they  have  only  given  of  tlieir 
superfluity,  but  she,  in  her  need — for  she  has  less  than  enough — has 
thrown  in  all  she  had  for  her  day's  living." 

Among  the  multitude  of  festival  pilgrims,  then  in  Jerusalem,  were  many 
foreign  proselytes.  That  they  should  have  come  up,  though  heathen  by 
birth,  showed  an  earnest  sincerity,  for  it  exposed  them  to  ridicule,  and 
even  worse,  from  their  own  countrymen.  Many  of  them,  doubtless,  like 
the  centurion  at  Capernaum,  or  like  the  Ethiopian  eunuch,  were  men  won 
over  to  faith  in  Jehovah,  and  to  a  loyal  respect  for  the  great  doctrines  of 
the  Old  Testament ;  proselytes  of  the  gate,  in  distinction  from,  the  pro- 
selytes of  righteousness,  who,  by  circumcision,  had,  in  all  religious  and 
social  respects,  become  Jews.  The  spread  of  a  Jewish  population  in  all 
countries,  and  the  immunities  they  enjoyed,  had  resulted  in  the  conversion 
of  great  numbers  of  Gentiles,  who  were  willing  to  pledge  themselves  to 
what  were  called  the  seven  commands  of  Noah — the  avoidance  of  murder, 
bloodshed,  or  robbery ;  obedience  to  the  Jewish  courts  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion ;  the  rejection  of  idolatry,  and  the  worship  of  Jehovah ;  and  to  eat 
no  freshly  killed  and  still  bleeding  flesh.  They  were  received  as  "  the 
strangers  within  the  gate  "  of  Israel,  and  could  attend  the  sjaiagogues,  but 
could  not  pass  beyond  the  Court  of  the  Heathen,  in  the  Temple. 

Of  this  class,  some  Greeks,  then  at  Jerusalem  for  the  Feast,  which  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  attending,  had  hea,rd  much  of  Jesus ;  jaerhaps  had 
seen  Him  and  listened  to  His  discourses,  and  were  anxious  to  know  Him 
personally,  from  their  interest  in  what  they  had  heard.  Too  modest  to  . 
come  direct,  they  applied  to  Philija,  the  only  Apostle  bearing  a  Greek  I 
name,  though  Andrew  is  of  Greek  origin.  To  him  Philip  forthwith  men- 
tioned the  circumstance,  and  the  two  communicated  it  to  Jesus.  It  filled 
His  heart  with  much-needed  joy,  to  welcome  men  v/ho  must  have  seemed 
to  Him  an  earnest  of  His  future  triumphs  among  the  great  heathen  nations. 
As  Bengel  says,  "  it  was  the  prelude  of  the  transition  of  the  kingdom  of 
God  from  the  Jew  to  the  Gentile." 

He  went  out,  therefiu'e,  to  the  Court  of  the  Heathen,  where  they  were 


G28  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

standing,  and  cheerfully  gave  them  the  audience  they  desired.  The  inci- 
dent brought  to  His  mind,  with  fresh  vividness  and  force,  the  nearness  of 
His  death,  through  which  His  salvation  was  to  be  brought  to  the  l)eathen 
world  at  large,  and  His  emotion  broke  forth  in  words,  full  of  sublimity. 

"  The  hour  has  come,"  said  He,  lifting  His  face,  att-we  may  believe,  to 
heaven,  as  he  spoke,  "  the  hour  appointed  in  the  counseJs  of  my  Father, 
from  eternity,  when  the  Son  of  man  shall  enter  into  His  glory  by  death. 
For  it  must  be  that  I  die,  that  my  work  may  bear  its  dae  fruits — as  the 
grain  must  fall  into  the  ground  and  perish,  that  it  may  bring  forth  the 
harvest.  Verily,  verily,  I  say  to  you,  it  must  be  so.  My  life  remains 
limited  and  bound  up  in  myself,  as  the  life  is  in  the  seed,  till  I  die.  It 
cannot,  till  then,  pass  beyond  me  to  others,  and  multiply.  But  when  I 
die,  I  shall  be  like  the  corn,  which,  in  its  death,  imparts  its  life  to  what 
springs  from  it. 

"  As  it  is  needful  for  me  thus  to  die,  to  make  my  work  triumph,  so  also 
is  it  for  you,  my  followers,  in  your  own  case.  He  who  so  loves  his  life  as 
not  to  be  willing  to  yield  it  for  my  kingdom,  will  lose  eternal  life  here- 
after ;  but  he  who,  in  this  world,  cheerfully  gives  up  even  his  life  for  me, 
as  if  he  hated  it  in  comparison  with  loyalty  to  me,  will  gain  life  everlast- 
ing. If  any  man  wish  really  to  serve  me,  let  him  imitate  me  in  my  joyful 
readiness  even  to  die ;  and  he  will  receive,  as  his  reward,  that  where  I  go, 
to  the  right  hand  of  my  Father  in  heaven,  there,  also,  will  he  follow,  and 
dwell  with  me ;  for  if  any  one  thus  truly  and  self-sacrificingly  serve  mc, 
my  Father  will  honour  him  by  giving  him  the  glory  of  the  life  hereafter." 

The  awful  vision  of  the  immediate  future,  meanwhile,  for  a  moment, 
raised  a  shrinking  of  human  weakness.  It  was  the  foreshadowing  of 
Gethsemane. 

"  Now  is  my  soul  troubled,"  cried  He,  with  a  voice  of  infinite  sadness. 
In  his  agony  of  soul.  He  faltered  for  a  moment  at  the  thought  of  all 
through  which  He  had  so  soon  to  jiass,  as  if  He  were  even  now  enduring 
it.  "What  shall  I  say?"  He  added,  as  if  communing  with  Himself; 
"  Shall  I  pray— Father,  save  me  from  the  hour  of  darkness  ;  take  this  cup 
from  me  ?  No,  let  it  not  be ;  all  the  past  has  been  only  a  progress  towards 
it,  that  by  it  I  might  glorify  Thy  name  !  "  The  momentary  human  shrink- 
ing from  the  Cross  had  passed  away  as  soon  as  it  had  risen.  The  cloud 
that  dimmed  the  clear  Heaven  of  His  spirit  had  disappeared.  His  trouble 
of  soul  gave  place,  on  the  instant,  to  the  victorious  consciousness  of  the 
great  future  to  flow  from  His  accomplishment  of  the  purpose  of  God  for 
the  salvation  of  the  world.  Then,  as  if  He  were  repeating  aloud  His  in- 
ward thoughts.  He  burst  forth  into  the  words — "'  Father,  glorify  Thy  name, 
as  Thou  hast  purposed,  through  my  death  for  man.  I  come  to  do  Thy  will, 
0  God;  I  give  myself  up  to  Thee  ! " 

Forthwith  came  a  wondrous  attestation,  sealing  the  Divine  authority  of 
our  Saviour's  mission  with  the  stamp  of  august  and  transcendent  glory. 
Suddenly  there  sounded  a  voice  from  the  cloudless  April  sky,  with  a 
volume  that  filled  the  heavens,  so  that  some,  overpowered  by  its  grandeur, 
could  not  think  of  it  as  an  utterance  of  articulate  words,  but  fancied  that 
it  thundered — "  I  have  glorified  My  name,  already,  in  having  sent  Thee, 


THE   INTEEVAIi.  G29 

and  in  all  Thy  sinless  and  gi-acious  life,  till  now ;  and  I  shall  glorify  it  again, 
by  Thine  entrance  on  Thy  heavenly  glory  through  the  gates  of  death  ! " 

"  It  thunders,"  muttered  some,  whose  souls  were  least  quick  to  realize 
what  had  happened.  *'  No,"  said  others,  with  truer  religious  sensibility, 
''  It  was  an  angel  speaking  to  Him.  He  is  a  prophet,  at  least ;  if  not  the 
Messiah  Himself,  and  God  speaks  thus  to  Him  by  a  heavenly  messenger." 
But  the  discijiles  around,  and  Jesus  Himself,  knew  whence  it  came,  and 
what  were  the  precise  words  from  the  Excellent  Glory. 

"  You  may  not  understand,"  said  Jesus  to  the  disciples  and  the  crowd, 
"  whence  this  voice  comes,  and  why  it  is  sent.  It  is  the  voice  of  my  Father 
in  heaven,  and  comes,  not  for  my  sake,  but  for  yours,  to  take  away  your 
unbelief,  and  to  strengthen  your  faith.  The  time  presses  for  your  decision 
regarding  me.  Even  now,  the  judgment  of  my  Father  is  being  given  forth, 
against  those  who  have  rejected  me  as  the  Messiah.  Through  the  victory 
of  my  kingdom, — which  my  death  will  secure,  and  the  spread  of  my  name 
over  the  earth  proclaim,— the  impotence  of  my  enemies  will  be  shown,  and 
their  guilt  before  God  be  made  clear.  He,  especially,  whom  even  you  call 
the  ruler  of  this  world,  and  the  great  enemy  of  the  kingdom  of  God— the 
prince  of  evil — will  feel  the  greatness  of  my  triumph,  for  his  kingdom 
must  yield  to  mine.  My  death,  as  the  atonement  between  God  and  man, 
will  deliver  from  his  power,  and  place  under  my  protection,  as  the  glorified 
Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  all  who  believe  in  my  name.  Nor  will  that  triumph 
cease  as  time  rolls  on ;  age  after  age,  till  the  last  day,  in  ever  wider  sweep, 
it  will  subdue  all  things  under  me,  and  drive  the  kingdom  of  darkness 
from  the  world. 

"  So  it  shall  be  ;  for  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth  by  the  death  of 
the  cross,  as  I  know  I  shall  be,  and  thus  pass  away  from  the  world  and 
return  to  my  Father,  shall  draw  all  men  to  me ;  for  the  power  of  my  cross 
will  be  universally  felt,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  whom  I  shall  send  from  the 
Father,  will  turn  men's  hearts  to  love  and  serve  me.  The  prince  of  this 
world  has,  in  me,  his  conqueror ;  for  I  must  reign  till  all  things  are  put 
under  my  feet,  and  the  world  be  won  back  to  God." 

The  people  round,  accustomed  to  speak  freely  with  the  Eabbis  on  the 
subject  of  their  addresses,  had  listened  to  Him  respectfully,  but  were  at  a 
lo§s  to  reconcile  His  words  with  their  preconceived  ideas  of  the  Messiah. 
In  the  synagogue,  they  had  heard  passages  read  from  the  Scriptures,  de- 
scribing Him  as  a  priest  for  ever,  and  His  dominion  as  one  which  should 
never  pass  nway  or  be  destroyed,  but  stand  for  ever  and  ever,  and  had 
come  to  expect,  in  consequence,  an  everlasting  reign  of  the  Messiah  upon 
earth.  They  were  at  a  loss,  therefore,  to  reconcile  Christ's  use  of  the 
name,  Son  of  man,  which  they  applied  to  the  Messiah,  with  the  statement 
that  instead  of  dwelling  on  earth  for  ever,  as  a  king  over  all  nations,  He 
should  suffer  the  shameful  death  of  crucifixion.  The  cross  was  already 
the  stumbling-block  to  them  it  afterwards  became  so  widely  to  their 
nation. 

"  We  have  heard  out  of  the  Law,"  said  they,  "  that  the  Christ  is  to  live 
for  ever,  on  earth.  What  dost  Thou  mean,  then,  by  saying  that  the  Son  of 
man — a  name  by  which  we  understand  the  Christ — must  be  crucified  ? 


630  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

WIio  is  this  Sou  of  man  to  whom  Thou  roferrcst  ?  What  dost  Thou  mean 
by  using  this  name,  when  Thou  speakest  so  contrary  to  Scripture  ?  " 

His  time  was  too  short  to  give  a  formal  exphination.  Nor  woukl  it  have 
been  of  any  effect  in  minds  so  prejudiced,  for  the  fullest  statements  of 
after  days  made  no  impression.  He  cliosc  rather  to  urge  on  them,  once 
more,  the  one  course  in  which  lay  their  eternal  safety.  Standing  at  the 
very  close  of  Plis  public  ministrations,  He  threw  into  these  last  words  of 
warning  the  whole  intensity  and  earnestness  of  His  soul. 

"  If  you  wish  to  comprehend  what  I  have  said  about  ray  being  lifted  up, 
let  me  tell  you  how  all  your  questions  and  difficulties  about  it  may  be  re- 
solved. I  shall  be  with  you  only  a  very  little  longer;  make  right  use  of  that 
time  to  believe  in  me,  the  Light  of  the  World,  as  the  traveller  makes  use 
of  the  last  moments  of  day,  to  reach  safety,  before  darkness  overtake  him. 
With  mc,  the  light  of  truth,  which  now  lights  you,  will  be  gone,  and  you 
know  that  he  who  walks  in  darkness  knows  not  which  way  to  go.  While 
ye  have  mc,  the  Light  of  Men,  believe  in  the  light,  that  ye  may  receive 
illumination  from  it." 

It  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  He  might  have  stayed  in  the 
Temple  till  it  shut  at  sunset,  then  a  few  minutes  after  six  in  the  evening. 
But  these  were  almost  the  last  words  He  was  to  speak  as  a  public  teacher. 
His  mission  to  His  nation  was  ended.  There  remained  only  a  brief  inter- 
val of  communion  with  the  loved  ones  round  Him,  and  then  would  come 
the  consummation  of  Calvary.  His  work  was  over,  except  its  final  and 
gi'eatest  act.  Casting  a  last  sad  look  of  quenchless  pity  on  all.  He 
turned  away  to  Bethany,  to  seek  seclusion,  till  the  time  came  for  His  self- 
sacrifice. 

It  must  have  been  a  solemn  and  well-nigh  overpowering  moment,  thus 
to  bid  fai'cwell,  for  ever,  to  the  Temple  of  His  nation,  the  centre  of  the  old 
kingdom  of  God;  for  the  retrospect  of  His  public  life,  and  the  vision  of  the 
future,  must  have  risen,  like  a  dream,  before  Him.  So  far  as  apparent 
results  went.  He  had  had  little  success,  for  though  even  His  bitterest 
enemies  were  forced  to  own  His  supernatural  power,  and  the  greatness 
and  number  of  the  instances  in  which  it  had  been  shown — though  His 
grand  self-restraint,  which  always  exerted  that  power  for  others,  but 
never  for  any  personal  end,  either  of  ambition,  defence,  or  retaliation,  was 
recognised  so  fully  that  tliey  ventured  to  treat  Him,  not  only  with  dis- 
respect, but  even  with  open  violence,  secure  in  His  infinite  patience  and 
humility — their  prejudices  had  utterly  blinded  them,  and  they  steadfastly 
refused,  as  a  class,  to  accept,  in  His  person,  a  Messiah  so  contrary  to  their 
gross  and  ambitious  expectations.  There  were,  indeed,  even  among  the 
chief  rulers  and  priests,  many  who  believed  in  Him,  but  it  was  only  a 
secret  conviction  Vi^hich  they  had  not  the  courage  to  own. 

The  tlireat  of  excommunication  had  been  too  terrible  to  brave,  and  they 
preferred  to  cling  to  their  social  and  civil  interests,  at  the  cost  of  repress- 
ing their  better  thoughts. 

Once  more,  only,  was  the  pleading  voice  raised.  A  number  of  those 
near  apparently  followed  Him  as  He  retired,  and  He  could  not  tear  Him- 
self from  them,  -without  a  final  outburst  of  yearning  desire  for  their  sal- 


THE    INTERVAL.  631 

vation.     Turning  I'ound,  and  raising  His  voice  till  the  sound  rang  far  and 
wide,  He  cried, — ■ 

"  Think  not  that  the  faith  I  demand  in  myself  in  any  way  lessens  or 
takes  from  the  faith  that  is  due  to  God.  To  believe  in  me,  and  to  believe 
in  God,  are  the  same  thing.  He  who  has  that  faith  in  me,  which  the 
proofs  I  have  given  of  my  being  sent  from  God  demand,  believes  not  so 
much  in  me  as  in  Him  who  sent  me.  And  thus,  also,  he  who  looks  on  me 
as  that  which  I  have  shown  myself  to  be,  looks  not  so  much  on  me  as  on 
Him  who  sent  me — on  the  Godhead  of  my  Father  revealed  in  me.  In  me 
ye  have  a  Light.  I  came  into  the  world  to  enlighten  men,  that  every  one 
who  yields  himself  to  my  guidance,  may  be  as  Vi^hen  one  walks  after  a 
light,  and  may  no  longer  remain  in  the  darkness  of  ig-norance,  superstition, 
and  sin. 

"  Yet  if  any  one  who  hears  my  words,  refuses  to  believe  in  me — let  him 
not  think  that  I  shall  inflict  judgment  on  him  for  his  refusal.  The  end  of 
my  coming  is  not  to  judge  the  world,  but,  rather,  to  save  it  from  eternal 
ruin.  He  who  rejects  me,  my  words,  and  my  deeds,  has  in  his  own  breast 
a  judge  that  will  condemn  him  hereafter.  The  truth  I  have  spoken,  in  the 
name  of  God,  which  he  has  refused  to  receive,  will  condemn  him  in  his 
own  conscience  at  the  last  day,  and  will  condemn  him  also  from  the  lips 
of  the  Great  Judge.  For  the  words  I  have  spoken  have  been  no  mere 
utterances  of  my  own ;  I  have  taught  only  that  which  I  was  commissioned 
by  my  Father  to  speak,  and  I  know  that  my  teaching,  if  obeyed  and 
followed,  secures  everlasting  life  to  men.  All  that  I  say  is  only  what  my 
Father  has  told  me  to  speak  in  His  name.  Therefore,  let  no  man  think 
that  I  speak  anything  but  that  which  my  Father  has  given  me  to  proclaim. 
I  am  He  whom  God  hath  sent,  and  my  words  are  the  words  of  God." 

Nothing  in  these  last  discourses  of  Jesus  had  seemed  more  strange  and 
inexplicable  to  the  Apostles,  than  His  prediction  of  the  early  destruction 
of  Jerusalem,  and  of  the  Temple  itself.  As  they  now  passed  with  Him 
through  the  forecourts,  to  the  outer  gate,  and  down  the  eastern  steps,  to 
the  Kedron  Yalley,  overpowered  by  the  vast  magnificence,  which  seemed 
grand  enough  even  for  the  times  of  the  Messiah,  they  could  not  refrain 
from  speaking  to  Him  respecting  His  strange  and  mysterious  words. 

"  Master,"  said  they,  "  see  what  a  wondrous  structure  this  is.  "What 
stones  !  what  buildings  !  what  splendour !  what  wealth  !  How  the  whole 
Temple  rises,  terrace  above  terrace,  from  the  great  white  walls,  to  the  Holy 
Place,  shining  with  gold  !  and  it  is  not  finished  even  yet ! " 

The  Temple,  says  Josephus,  was  built  of  white  stones  of  great  size — the 
length  of  each  about  thirty-seven  and  a  half  feet,  some  even  forty-five 
feet,  the  thickness  twelve  feet,  and  the  breadth  eighteen. 

But  Jesus  looked  at  all  this  strength,  wealth,  and  magnificence,  with 
very  different  eyes.  To  Him  the  Jewish  Theocracy  had  outlived  its  day, 
and  had  sunk  into  moral  decrepitude  and  approaching  death,  which  the 
mere  outward  splendour  of  its  Temple  could  not  hide.  Israel,  in  rejecting 
Him, — the  Voice  of  God,  calling  it  to  rise  to  noAv  spiritual  life,— had  shown 
itself  ripe  for  Divine  judgment.  His  own  death,  already  determined  by  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  now  close  at  hand,  would  seal  the  fate  of  the 


\ 


632  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

nation  and  its  religion.  It  would  be  the  proclamation  of  the  passing  away 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  from  Jndaisra  now  dead  in  forms  and 
rites,  to  the  heathen  nations  willing  to  receive  its  spirit  and  liberty. 

He  knew  that  the  Theocracy  would  cling  to  their  dream  of  national  in- 
dependence, and  the  erection  of  a  mighty  political  empire  of  the  Messiah, 
and  that  this  involved  a  struggle  between  them  and  Kome,  in  which  their 
petty  weakness  must  inevitably  be  crushed.  Strange  fate  !  the  moment  when 
they  fancied  they  had  secured  themselves  even  from  reform  by  the  reso- 
lution to  put  Jesus  to  death,  was  that  in  which  He  whose  violent  end  was 
to  ensure  permanence  and  prosperity,  predicted  their  utter  destruction ! 

"Yes,"  said  Jesus,  in  utter  sadness,  "I  see  all:  they  are  very  great 
buildings  ;  but  I  tell  you  solemnly,  the  day  will  come  when  there  will  not 
be  one  stone  of  them  all  left  on  another,  not  thrown  down." 

He  said  nothing  more,  but  went  out  of  the  city  by  the  blossoming 
Kedron  Valley,  with  its  gardens  and  stately  mansions,  a  picture  of  peace 
and  prosperity,  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  Sitting  down  on  a  knoll,  to  enjoy 
the  magnificent  view,  so  full  of  unutterable  thoughts  to  the  Eejected  One, 
the  Apostles  had  Moriah  once  more  before  them  in  its  whole  glory,  crowned 
by  the  marble  Temple,  like  a  mountain  with  snow. 

In  the  group  around,  Peter  and  James,  and  John  and  Andrew,  sat  near- 
est their  Master,  and  as  they  looked  at  all  the  splendour  before  them — 
splendour  so  great  that  it  was  often  said  that  he  who  had  not  seen  it  had 
missed  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world — their  thoughts  still  ran  on  the 
words  in  which  He  had  doomed  it  to  destruction.  They  had  heard  Him  say 
that  the  nation  would  not  see  Him  again,  till  they  showed  themselves  ready 
to  receive  Him  as  the  Messiah,  and  that,  in  the  meantime,  the  city  and 
Temple  should  be  utterly  destroyed.  Their  only  idea  of  the  Messiah,  even 
yet,  however,  was  that  of  a  deliverer  of  their  race,  who,  besides  any  spiri- 
tual benefits  He  might  confer,  would  raise  Israel  to  world-wide  supremacy. 
They  could  not  imagine  that  the  Holy  City  and  its  Temple  would  perish 
before  the  end  of  the  world,  and  He  must  surely  come  sooner  than  that,  to 
free  the  land  from  subjection,  and  inaugurate  its  glory.  The  destruction  of 
the  city,  therefore,  could  not,  they  fancied,  be  befoi'e  the  destruction  of  all 
things.  They  would  fain  know  what  sign,  after  this  catastrophe,  would 
precede  His  glorious  coming  and  the  final  consummation,  if  it  were  to  be 
so,  that  they  might  recognise  His  advent  when  it  took  place.  Their  ideas, 
in  truth,  were  in  a  hopeless  confusion. 

"  Tell  us.  Master,"  said  one  of  the  four  favoured  ones,  "  when  shall  these 
things,  of  which  Thou  hast  spoken,  take  place  ?  And  what  sign  will  there 
be  of  Thy  coming,  and  of  the  end  of  the  world  ?  " 

It  was  impossible  to  explain  this  to  minds  so  filled  with  preconceived 
ideas.  Much  must  happen— His  death,  resurrection,  and  departure  from 
the  earth  before  they  could  acquire  just  conceptions  of  His  kingdom.  Till 
then,  nothing  could  remove  their  prejudices.  He,  therefore,  confined 
Himself,  as  usual,  to  the  practical,  that  He  might  rouse  them  to  watch- 
fulness over  themselves,  and  destroy  the  illusion  that  the  holiness  of 
Jerusalem  would  preserve  it,  and  that  the  Messiah  must  appear  first,  to 
deliver  the  nation  from  the  hand  of  the  Romans. 


THE   INTERVAL.  638 

He  fitly  began  by  warning  them  against  false  Messiahs.  "  Take  heed," 
said  He,  "  that  no  impostor  deceive  you,  by  persuading  you  that  he  is  the 
llessiah,  come,  as  you  expect,  to  free  the  nation  and  subdue  the  woi'ld,  and 
to  spread  the  Jewish  religion  over  the  earth.  Many  deceivers  will  rise, 
calling  themselves  the  Messiah,  sent  from  God  to  restore  Israel,  and  say 
ing  that  the  time  of  its  deliverance  has  come.  They  will  mislead  many. 
Take  care  that  you  go  not  out  after  them. 

"  Biit  to  turn  to  your  question  :  before  the  Temple  is  destroyed,  you  will 
hear  the  terrors  of  wars  near  at  hand,  and  the  distant  tumult  of  others, 
and  you  may  think  that  they  will  bring  the  end.  But  be  not  alarmed. 
They  are  divinely  appointed,  and  this  may  serve  to  calm  your  minds ;  but 
the  destruction  of  the  city  and  Temple  will  not  take  place  so  soon.  ISTor 
must  you  think  that  these  wars  will  herald  national  deliverance;  instead  of 
proclaiming  an  interference  of  God  for  the  restoration  of  Israel,  they  mark 
the  beginning  of  His  judgments.  For  nation  will  rise  against  nation,  and 
kingdom  against  kingdom,  and  there  will  be  famines,  and  pestilences,  and 
earthquakes,  and  fearful  sights  in  the  heavens,  here  and  there,  over  the 
earth.  Yet  do  not  think,  from  these,  that  God  is  about  to  appear  for  the 
Jews,  and  to  send  them  an  earthly  Messiah.  No  ;  all  these  are  only  the 
first  pangs  of  the  coming  sorrow.  Your  Rabbis  have  told  you  that  such 
things  are  signs  of  the  speedy  advent  of  the  Messiah,  but  be  not  deceived. 

"  Instead  of  peace,  these  things  will  bring  evil.  Once  more,  be  on  your 
guard.  I  shall  soon  go  away,  and  would  again  warn  you  of  the  dangers 
which  shall  precede  the  last  catastrophe.  I  have  often  announced  what 
perils  and  heavy  trials  await  you,  in  founding  and  spreading  my  Kingdom, 
so  different  in  its  spiritual  and  moral  unworldliness,  from  all  others.  Before 
the  end  comes,  men  will  proceed  to  violence  against  you,  for  my  name's  sake. 
Your  countrymen  will  lay  hands  on  you,  accuse  you,  and  bring  you  before 
the  local  authorities  ;  you  will  be  scourged  in  the  synagogues  and  thrown 
into  dungeons,  and  even  dragged  before  kings  and  Roman  governors,  that 
you  luay  witness  for  me,  my  Person,  and  my  work,  before  them. 

"  But  let  me  comfort  you,  in  prospect  of  such  trials.  Never  forget  that 
I  will  not  forsake  you  when  you  thus  suffer  for  my  sake,  and  will,  myself, 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  whom  I  will  send  to  your  aid,  give  you  words  and  wis- 
dom for  your  defence,  when  you  are  before  tribunals.  Be  not  therefore 
anxious,  when  such  persecutions  rise,  for  in  the  hour  of  your  trial  it  will 
not  be  you  who  speak,  but  the  Holy  Ghost. 

"  Yet,  let  me  not  conceal  from  you  that  they  will  deliver  you  up  to  every 
form  of  suffering,  and  even  kill  you,  and  that  you  will  be  hated  not  only  by 
your  own  nation,  because  you  proclaim  me  as  the  Messiah,  but  by  all  the 
lieathen  nations  as  well.     In  this  world  you  can  look  only  for  tribulation. 

"  But  a  greater  trial  awaits  you  than  mere  persecution  from  without. 
Tlie  strife  of  creeds  will  enter  even  the  sacred  circle  of  the  family ;  the 
father  will  give  evidence  before  the  Courts  against  his  own  child,  the 
brother  against  the  brother,  the  child  against  the  parent,  the  friend  against 
the  friend.  The  fury  of  the  heathen  and  Jewish  fanaticism  will  feel  no 
pity,  the  nearest  blood  will  rage  against  its  own,  and  will  deliver  them  up 
to  the  executioner.     And  even  in  your  own  number,  many  will  renounce 


634  THE   LIFE    OF   CIIIIIST. 

their  faith,  under  the  pressure  o£  persecution  and  trial,  and  will  even 
betray  and  deliver  up  their  fellow-Christians  to  the  magistrate,  and  hato 
those  from  whom  they  have  thus  apostatized.  My  name  will  indeed  be- 
come a  symbol  of  hatred  and  scorn  against  every  one  who  confesses  it. 
Still  worse,  many  false  Christian  teachers  will  rise  in  your  own  midst,  and 
will  mislead  numbers.  And  all  this  spiritual  corruption  will  sap  the 
brotherly  love  and  religious  zeal  of  many  of  my  followers,  for  true  Chris- 
tian life  cannot  thrive  where  there  is  moral  decay. 

"  But  he  who  neither  renounces  my  name,  nor  lets  himself  be  led  astray 
by  false  teachers,  but  remains  true  and  loyal  to  me  till  the  evil  daj's  are 
over,  will  receive  everlasting  honour  at  my  final  coming.  Such  good  and 
faithful  servants  need  have  no  fear  of  losing  their  reward,  for  nothing  can 
befall  them,  to  hurt  or  lessen,  in  the  least,  their  share  in  the  salvation  my 
eternal  Kingdom  will  bring.  As  regards  that,  they  are  perfectly  safe. 
ITot  a  hair  of  their  head,  if  I  may  so  speak,  will  perish,  so  far  as  their 
heavenly  hopes  are  concerned.  Their  faithfulness  will  gain  for  them  the 
eternal  life  of  their  souls,  even  should  they  die  as  martyrs  here. 

"  Meanwhile  the  Gospel  of  the  new  Kingdom  of  God  will  be  preached 
throughout  the  whole  world,  that  a  testimony  respecting  me  may  be  given 
to  all  nations,  however  they  may  hate  you.  Then,  but  not  till  then,  shall 
come  the  end  of  this  present  state  of  things— the  old  will  then  pass  away, 
and  the  new  begin.  The  reign  of  the  kingdom  of  God  will  open  when 
Judaism  has  fallen,  and  heathenism  has  heard  its  doom. 

"  The  full  spread  of  my  Kingdom  cannot  come  so  long  as  that  which  it 
is  to  displace  still  stands  in  Jeriisalem.  The  Gospel  needs  new  soil,  new 
means,  new  powers.  The  old  religions  are  so  identified  with  the  civil  and 
political  life  of  men,  with  their  customs  and  modes  of  thought,  that  my 
Kingdom  can  hope  to  found  its  peaceful  reign  only  after  great  and  terrible 
revolutions  and  disturbances.  The  way  will  be  opened  for  it  by  war,  with  all 
its  horrors,  and  by  the  widespread  judgments  of  God  on  the  world  at  large. 

"When,  therefore,  ye  see  Jerusalem  compassed  with  armies,  it  will  mark 
the  beginning  of  the  end.  When  you  see  the  holy  place  in  ruins,  and 
desolation  reigning  there  in  its  hatefulness,  as  is  spoken  of  in  Daniel,  let 
him  who  is  in  Judea  flee  to  the  hills  of  Gilead,  where  he  will  be  safe ;  let 
him  who  is  on  the  house-top  not  come  down  to  take  away  his  things  from 
the  house,  but  let  him  flee  along  the  flat  roof,  to  the  town  wall,  and  thus 
escape ;  and  let  him  v/ho  is  working  in  the  field,  where  he  has  no  outer 
garment,  not  come  back  to  his  house  to  get  it,  but  let  him  flee  for  his  life. 
But  woe  to  those  who  are  with  child  in  those  days,  and  cannot  flee,  and  to 
those  who  have  children  at  the  breast,  and  are  kept  from  escaping  by 
vainly  trying  to  save  them  also.  Pray  that  your  flight  be  not  in  the 
winter,  with  its  rains  and  storms  and  swollen  torrents,  nor  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  when  he  who  still  clings  to  Jewish  law  will  think  it  unlawful  to  travel 
more  than  two  thousand  cubits.  Whatever  hinders  your  swift  flight  will, 
indeed,  be  cause  of  regret,  for  the  troubles  of  those  days  will  be  great 
beyond  example. 

"  There  will  be  terrible  distress  in  the  land,  and  the  fierce  wrath  will  be 
let  loose  on  this  nation.     Its  sons  will  fall  by  the  sword,  and  be  led  off,  ta 


THE    INTEEVAL.  635 

be  sold  as  slaves  over  tlie  whole  earth,  aiA  Jerusalem  will  be  trodden  under 
foot  of  the  heathen,  as  a  captive  is  by  his  conqueror,  till  the  times  allowed 
by  God  to  the  Gentiles,  to  carry  out  thus  His  avenging  wrath,  be  fulfilled. 

"  And,  indeed,  if  the  number  of  these  evil  days  had  not  been  shortened, 
in  God's  pitying  mercy,  no  flesh  would  be  saved.  But  for  the  sake  of  the 
chosen  ones  of  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  whom  God  has  determined 
to  save  from  the  calamities  of  these  days  and  preserve  alive,  they  have 
been  shortened. 

"  But  when  the  Temple  has  been  laid  waste,  and  you  have  fled  for  your 
lives,  false  Messiahs,  and  men  pretending  to  be  prophets,  and  to  speak  in 
the  name  of  God  to  the  nation  in  its  affliction,  will  rise  once  more,  taking 
ftdvantapis  of  the  commotion  and  anxiety  of  those  days,  and  will  be  so 
much  the  more  dangerous.  V/hen  men  say  to  you,  of  any  of  these,  '  The 
Messiah  has  appeared  here,'  or  '  He  has  appeared  there,'  do  not  believe  it. 
They  will  pretend  to  perform  such  great  signs  and  wonders,  that  even  the 
chosen  ones  of  my  Kingdom— my  disciples — would  be  deceived  if  it  were 
possible.  I  have  warned  you  of  this  already,  but  press  on  you  once  more 
to  take  heed  to  it.  If,  therefore,  any  one  say  to  you,  '  Behold,  the  Messiah 
is  in  the  wilderness,'  do  not  go  out  with  him  ;  for  they  draw  their  dupes 
to  tlie  desert  as  a  safe  place  for  mustering  them.  If  any  say,  '  Behold,  he 
is  in  such  and  such  a  house,  shut  up  in  his  secret  chambers,'  do  not  believe 
it.  My  visible  and  final  coming,  respecting  which  j'ou  ask  me,  will  not 
be  such  that  men  need  point  to  this  place,  or  to  that,  to  see  me  ;  it  will  be 
like  the  lightning,  which  shines  with  instant  splendour  through  all  the 
sky,  and  announces  itself  beyond  mistake.  For,  from  east  to  west,  the 
earth  will,  in  that  day,  be  ripe  for  the  judgments  of  the  Messiah,  and  as 
the  eagles  gather  wherever  the  carcase  is,  so  the  Son  of  man,  then  the 
minister  of  Divine  wrath,  will  reveal  Himself  to  all  who  have  fallen  under 
His  condemnation. 

"  Then,  in  a  future  age — when  the  time  of  the  Gentiles,  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  is  fulfilled — when  he  vfho  has  prayed  long  and  unfaintingly,  like 
tlie  importtmate  widow,  will  begin  to  wonder  if  ever  he  will  be  heard — I 
do  not  say  whether  in  the  second  watch,  or  in  the  third,  or  even  in  the 
morning ;  when  the  bridegroom  has  tarried  while  his  attendants  wait  long- 
ingly for  him — when  the  unfaithful  servant  has  encouraged  himself  by 
the  thought  that  his  lord  delays  his  coming — when  the  Gospel  has  been 
preached  to  all  the  Gentiles— and  when  the  king  may  be  expected,  at  last, 
from  the  far  country  to  which  he  has  gone — then,  suddenly,  like  the  flood 
in  the  days  of  Noah,  or  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  shall  the  words  of  the 
prophets  be  verified,  and  earth  and  heaven  be  veiled,  and  darkened,  and 
tremble,  before  the  great  coming  of  the  Son  of  man,  to  judgment.  And 
then  shall  they  sec  the  sign  of  His  appearing,  respecting  which  you  have 
asked — the  far-shining  splendour  around  Him,  like  the  sun  in  its  strength 
— when  He  descends  in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  with  power  and  with  great 
glory.  And  He  shall  send  fofth  His  angels,  from  the  midst  of  the  un- 
utterable light ;  and  the  gi^eat  trumpet  of  God,  which  will  wake  the  dead, 
shall  sound,  and  the  angels  will  gather  together  around  Him  all  who  are 
His  — chosen  of  God  to  be  heirs  of  the  heavenly  kingdom  of  the  Messiah^ 


636  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

from  north,  and  south,  and  east,  and  Avcst,  over  the  Avhole  world.  And  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  who  have  rejected  me  shall  mourn,  when  they  seo 
me  thus  come  in  Divine  majesty.  And  when  these  wondrous  signs  begin, 
then  lift  up  your  heads,  for  your  eternal  redemption  from  all  the  afflictions 
of  time  is  at  hand. 

"  When,  therefore,  soon  after  my  departure  from  you,  ye  see  all  these 
wars,  and  hear  all  these  rumours  of  wars  of  which  I  have  told  you,  know 
that  I,  the  Messiah,  am  near  in  my  first  coming,  as  ye  know  that  the 
summer  is  close,  when  ye  see  the  branches  of  the  fig-tree,  and  all  other 
trees,  swell,  and  put  forth  their  buds  and  tender  leaves.  For  it  is  I  who 
come,  unseen,  to  judge  Jerusalena  and  the  Temple,  as  I  shall,  in  the  end 
come  visibly  to  judge  all  mankind. 

"  Verily  I  say  to  you.  This  generation  of  living  men  shall  not  have  passed 
away,  before  the  beginning  of  the  age  of  the  Messiah  has  come, — ushered 
in  by  the  fall  of  Israel,  and  to  be  closed  by  all  these  signs ;  when  the  old 
world  shall  have  drawn  to  an  end,  and  my  Kingdom — the  new  age  of  the 
world — shall  take  its  place  till  the  consummation  of  all  things.  Heaven 
and  earth  shall  one  day  pass  away,  but  my  words  shall  not,  for  all  I  have 
told  you  must  happen.  The  signs  I  have  predicted,  as  heralds  of  my 
coming  to  judge  Jerusalem  and  Israel,  will  assuredly  be  seen  by  some  of 
you  now  round  me.  And  my  coming  then  will  be  the  revelation  of  my 
Kingdom  before  the  world,  aiid  of  its  triumi^h  over  its  present  Jewish 
enemies,  for  it  can  only,  then,  truly  rise,  when  the  Temple  has  been  de- 
stroyed. When  it  shall  lie  strewn  in  ruins,  and  desecrated  for  ever  by 
heathen  soldiery,  the  world  that  is  will  be  seen  to  have  passed  away.  There 
will  be  an  end  of  the  old  priesthood  and  sacrifice,  and  the  earth  will  be 
opened  to  the  victory  of  my  spiritual  reign. 

"  But  the  exact  time  of  the  last  period  of  all,  of  which  I  have  spoken — 
the  destruction  of  all  things  visible,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  my 
return  in  glory,  to  judge  the  nations— I  cannot  tell  you.  Even  the  angels 
do  not  know  it,  nor  even  does  the  Son ;  it  is  known  to  my  Father  alone 
This  uncertainty  of  the  time  of  my  coming  will  make  men  secure  and  care- 
less, as  tliey  were  in  the  days  of  Noah.  For  they  went  on,  dreading  no 
catastrophe,  eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  and 
neither  believed  nor  dreamed  that  the  flood  would  really  happen,  till  it 
came,  and  swept  them  all  away.  Like  it,  my  coming  will  be  so  sudden, 
that,  of  two  men  in  the  field,  one  shall  be  taken  by  the  angels  sent  forth  to 
gather  the  saints,  and  the  other  left— for  they  will  have  no  time  to  flee ; 
and,  of  two  slave-girls  at  the  household  mill,  while  they  are  still  grinding, 
the  one  shall  be  taken,  in  like  manner,  to  be  with  me,  and  the  other  left. 

"  Take  heed  to  yourselves,  and  watch,  lest  at  any  time,  liia  the  people 
before  the  flood,  you  give  way  to  sinful  pleasures  or  indulgences,  or  be 
engrossed  in  the  anxieties  of  life,  so  as  to  be  careless,  and  unprepared  for 
my  return,  and  that  day  come  on  you,  as  the  flood  did  on  them,  unawares. 
For  it  will  burst  on  all  that  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth,  as  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  as  the  snare  flies  over  the  creature  caught  in  its  toils. 

"Take  heed,  I  repeat,  and  watch;  for  ye  know  not  when  the  hour  may 
arrive.     It  will  be  like  the  coming  of  a  man  who  has  taken  his  journey 


THE    INTERVAL.  637 

into  a  far  country,  and  has  left  his  house  in  the  hands  of  his  servants,  and 
given  authority  over  it  to  them,  to  each  his  own  si^ecial  work,  and  has 
commanded  the  keeper  of  the  gate  to  look  for  his  return.  Watch,  there- 
fore, like  faithful,  diligent  servants,  for  ye  know  not  the  hour  when  I,  the 
Master  of  the  House,  shall  come,  whether  it  will  be  in  the  evening,  or  at 
midnight,  or  at  cock-crowing,  or  in  the  morning ;  lest,  if  I  come  suddenly, 
I  find  you  asleep.  And  what  I  say  to  you,  my  Apostles,  I  say  to  all,  Be 
awake  and  watchful  at  all  times,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  escape  all  the 
terrors  of  my  coming,  by  being  found  faithful,  and  thus  may  be  set  before 
me  by  the  holy  angels,  to  enter  into  my  glory,  and  stand  before  me,  as  my 
servants,  in  my  heavenly  kingdom. 

"  You  know  how  a  householder  would  have  acted  had  he  known  before- 
hand at  what  watch  of  the  night  the  thief  would  come,  to  plunder  his 
goods.  He  would  have  watched,  and  not  have  suffered  his  house  to  be 
broken  into.  Therefore,  be  ready  at  all  times,  for  the  Son  of  man  will 
come,  when,  perhaps,  ye  least  expect  Him. 

"  Who  among  you  will  prove  himself  a  good  and  faithful  servant  ?  He 
will  be  like  a  servant  of  him  of  whom  I  have  spoken,  who  took  his  journey 
to  a  far  country — a  servant  set  over  the  household  to  give  them  their  food 
in  due  season,  during  his  absence ;  who  faithfully  did  it.  Blessed  will  be 
that  servant,  whom  his  lord  when  he  returns  shall  find  so  doing !  Verily 
I  say  to  you,  he  will  advance  him  to  a  far  higher  post,  for  he  will  set  him 
not  only  over  the  food  of  his  household,  but  over  all  his  substance.  And 
blessed  in  like  manner  will  he  be  whom  I,  on  my  return,  shall  find  faithful 
to  the  charge  committed  to  him  in  my  kingdom  ! 

"  But  if,  instead  of  being  faithful,  you  fail  in  your  duty,  you  will  be  like 
a  servant  of  the  same  master,  who  should  say  in  his  heart,  '  My  Lord 
delays  his  coming,'  and  begin  to  beat  his  fellow-servants,  and  to  eat  and 
drink  with  the  drunken,  at  his  master's  cost.  The  lord  of  that  servant 
will  come  in  a  day  when  he  does  not  look  for  him,  and  in  an  hour  when 
he  does  not  expect  him,  and  will  punish  him  to  the  uttermost,  and  make 
him  bear  the  just  fate  of  a  hypocrite.  Even  so,  the  hypocrite,  in  my  king- 
dom, shall  be  cast  out  into  outer  darkness.  And,  oh !  what  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  will  be  there  ! 

"  In  that  day  of  my  final  coming  it  will  be  as  when,  at  a  marriage,  the 
maidens  invited  to  play  and  sing  in  the  marriage  procession,  prepare  to 
go  out  to  meet  the  bridegroom,  to  lead  him  to  the  house  of  the  bride, 
where  the  marriage  is  to  be  celebrated.  Let  me  suppose  there  were  ten 
such  maidens — five  wise,  five  foolish.  The  five  foolish  ones  took  their 
lamps  with  them,  to  help  the  display,  and  lighten  the  path  of  the  bride- 
groom, but  they  forgot  to  take  oil  with  them,  besides,  to  refill  the  lamps, 
when  they  had  burned  out.  But  the  wise  not  only  took  their  lamps,  but 
oil  in  their  oil-flasks  as  well.  All  the  ten,  thus  differently  pi-epared,  went 
forth  from  the  home  of  the  bride,  and  waited  in  a  house,  on  the  way  by 
which  the  bridegroom  must  come,  to  be  ready  to  go  out  and  escort  him, 
when  he  passed. 

"  But  he  delayed  so  long  that  they  all  grew  heavy,  and  fell  asleep.  At 
last,  at  midnight,  they  were  suddenly  roused;  for  the  people  in  the  streets 


638  THE    LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

had  heard  the  loud  music  and  shouts,  and  had  seen  the  light  of  the  lamps 
and  torches  of  the  ]:)rocession,  afar,  and  raised  the  cry  at  the  doors, — '  Tiie 
bridegroom  is  coming,  go  ye  out  to  meet  him.'  Then  they  all  arose,  and 
trimmed  each  her  own  lamp,  to  have  it  ready.  The  foolish  ones  now  found 
that  their  lamps  were  going  out,  because  the  oil  was  all  burned,  and  asked 
the  wise  ones  to  give  them  of  theirs.  But  they  answered, 'Wo  cannot 
possibly  do  so,  for  our  oil  would  assuredly  not  suffice  both  for  ourselves 
and  you ;  go,  rather,  to  the  sellers,  and  buy  for  yourselves.' 

"  While  they  were  away  buying  it,  however,  the  bridegroom  came,  and 
the  five  who  were  ready,  joined  the  procession,  and  went  in  with  the 
bridegroom  to  the  marriage  and  the  marriage-feast,  and  the  door  was  shut. 
After  a  time,  the  other  five  came,  and  knocked  at  the  gate  with  anxious 
entreaty,  '  Lord,  lord,  open  to  us.'  But  he  answered,  '  I  do  not  know  you. 
You  were  not  among  the  other  maids  of  the  bride  in  the  procession,  and, 
therefore,  you  are  strangers  to  me,  and  as  such  have  nothing  to  do  at  my 
marriage.' 

"  Learn  from  this  parable  that  they  who  patiently  watch  and  wait,  doing 
the  duty  I  hfive  assigned  them,  till  I  come,  though  they  know  neither  the 
day  nor  the  hour  when  I  shall  do  so,  will  have  a  part  in  the  joys  of  my 
heavenly  kingdom..  All  my  followers  will  then  be,  as  it  were,  my  bride, 
and  I  their  bridegroom ;  but  those  who  are  not  faithful  and  true  to  the 
end,  will  be  shut  out  from  the  marriage-feast." 

The  Apostles  and  the  others  who  followed  Jesus  had  been  sitting  long 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening  on  the  pleasant  sloiie  of  Olivet,  listening  to  this 
wondrous  discourse,  but  their  Master's  stay  with  them  was  now  nearly 
over,  and  He  was  loath  to  bring  His  words  to  an  end.  He  still  went  on, 
therefore,  and  next  repeated  to  them  the  parable  He  had  before  delivered 
near  Jericho — of  the  talents  lent  by  the  Lord  to  his  servants.  Its  awful 
close,  however,  which  represents  the  Tinprofitable  servant  as  cast  into  the 
outer  darkness,  with  its  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  brouglit  before 
Him  all  the  terrors  of  the  last  judgment,  and  led  Him  to  close  by  a  picture 
of  that  awful  day,  unequalled  for  sublimity  by  any  other,  even  of  His 
own  utterances. 

"The  parable  of  the  talents,  my  beloved,"  said  He,  " shows  that  every 
one  of  you  must  needs  make  the  utmost  possible  use,  for  the  interests  of 
my  kingdom  in  your  own  hearts  and  among  men,  of  all  the  different  gifts 
entrusted  to  you  by  me,  for  my  service,  according  to  your  respective 
abilities.  For,  at  my  coming,  I  shall  reckon  with  you  all,  and  those  who 
have  been  faithful  to  me  shall  receive  high  rewards  in  heaven,  but  those 
who  have  left  their  gifts,  however  small,  unused,  will  have  those  gifts 
taken  from  them,  and  they  themselves  will  be  thrust  out  of  my  kingdom." 

He  then  proceeded,  in  words  such  as  no  mere  man  could  ever  dream  of 
using,  words  which  we  seem  to  hear  spoken  with  the  light  as  of  other 
worlds  shining  from  the  speaker's  eyes,  and  a  transfiguration  of  His  whole 
appearance  to  more  thair  human  majesty. 

"I  have  told  you  how  I  shall  return  invisibly,  to  earth,  before  this 
generation  shall  have  passed  away,  to  judge  Jerusalem  and  Israel,  when 
the  cup  of  their  iniquity  shall  be  full ;  and  how,  also,  I  shall  come  again. 


THE   INTERVAL.  639 

in  spiritual  unseen  presence,  to  be  with  my  servants  in  their  warfare  with 
the  powers  of  darkness,  till  my  kingdom  passes  from  victory  to  victory, 
through  succeedmg  ages,  and  the  prince  of  this  world  be  finally  cast  down 
from  his  usurped  throne,  and  the  world  become  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
of  me,  His  Messiah. 

"  Then  shall  arrive  that  day  which  I  have  warned  and  urged  you  so 
earnestly  to  keep  ever  in  mind,  the  day  when,  like  the  lord  who  returned 
from  the  far  country  to  reckon  with  his  servants,  I,  the  Son  of  Man,  now 
poor,  despised,  with  none  round  me  but  you — rejected  by  my  brethren  of 
Israel,  and  in  a  few  hours  to  be  nailed  on  a  cross  like  the  meanest  slave — 
will  come  again  as  Head  of  the  great  kingdom  of  the  Messiah,  which  will 
then  embrace  all  nations. 

"  The  father  has  committed  all  judgment  in  this  kingdom,  to  me,  His 
Son,  and  has  given  me  all  power  in  it  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  And  at 
that  day  I  shall  come  in  my  glory,  as  its  Prince  and  Head,  amidst  the 
splendours  of  heaven,  and  with  all  the  angels  of  God. 

"  Then  will  I  sit  on  the  throne  of  my  glory,  as  kings  of  the  earth  when 
they  sit  to  judge,  and  all  nations  shall  be  gathered  together  before  me, 
by  my  ministering  angels,  and  I  will  separate  them,  one  from  another,  as 
you  have  seen  a  shepherd  separate  the  white  sheep  from  the  black  goats, 
and  I  will  set  the  sheep  on  my  right  hand,  but  the  goats  on  my  left. 

"  Then,  as  King,  coming  in  the  majesty  of  my  assembled  Kingdom, 
shall  I  say  to  them  on  my  right  hand :  '  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  earth — 
that  kingdom  which  I  promised  as  the  inheritance  of  the  meek.  For  ye 
have  proved  that  ye  truly  believed  in  my  name,  by  the  love  towards  me 
and  mine,  which  only  sincere  faith  can  yield.  For  I  was  hungrj^  and  ye 
gave  me  to  eat ;  I  was  thirsty,,  and  ye  gave  me  to  drink ;  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  gave  me  welcome ;  naked  and  ye  clothed  me ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye 
visited  me ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me.' 

"  Then  shall  the  righteous,  feeling  only  their  shortcomings,  and  forget- 
ting their  good  deeds,  think  it  cannot  be  as  I  have  said.  '  "When,  Lord,' 
they  shall  ask  me,  '  saw  we  Thee  hungry,  and  gave  Thee  maintenance ; 
or  thirsty,  and  gave  Thee  to  drink  ?  When  saw  we  Thee  a  stranger,  and 
gave  Thee  welcome ;  or  naked  and  clothed  Thee  ?  Or  when  saw  we  thee 
sick,  or  in  prison,  and  came  unto  Thee  ?  ' 

"  And  I,  the  King,  will  answer  them :  '  Verily  I  say  to  you,  Inasmuch 
as  ye  did  it,  for  my  sake,  to  one  of  these  my  brethren,  even  the  least  of 
them:  the  poor,  the  lowly,  the  outcast,  the  persecuted,  the  wretched,  who 
believed  in  me,  and  are  now  round  my  throne — or  to  one  of  the  least  of 
all  my  brethren  of  mankind,  for  the  love  ye  bore  me,  who  died  for  them — 
ye  did  it  unto  me.' 

"  Then  shall  I  also  say  to  those  on  my  left  hand :  '  Depart  from  me, 
accursed,  into  the  evei-lasting  fire  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels, 
but  now  to  be  shared  by  you,  his  servants.  For  I  was  hungry,  and  ye 
did  not  give  me  to  eat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  did  not  give  me  to  drink ; 
I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  would  not  receive  me ;  naked,  and  ye  did  not 
clothe  me ;  sick,  and  in  prison,  and  yc  did  not  visit  me.' 


GIO  THE    LIFE    OP   CHRIST. 

"  Then  they  will  try,  vainly,  to  justify  themselves,  by  pleading  innocence. 
'  Lord,'  they  will  say,  '  when  did  we  see  Thee  hungry,  or  thirsty,  or  a 
stranger,  or  naked,  or  sick,  or  in  prison,  and  did  not  minister  to  Thee  ? 
Lord,  we  never  saw  Thee  thus,  and,  therefore,  have  never  refused  Thee 
our  service.' 

"  But  I  will  answer  them :  '  Verily  I  say  to  you.  Inasmuch  as  ye  did 
it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  whom  you  had  with  you 
and  might  have  helped,  ye  did  it  not  to  me.  Ilad  ye  truly,  and  not  in 
name  only,  believed  in  me,  ye  would  have  shown  fruits  of  your  faith,  in 
deeds  of  love  for  my  sake.' 

"  And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment ;  but  the  right- 
eous into  life  eternal." 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

FAUEWELL     TO    FRIENDS. 

IT  was  the  twelfth  day  of  the  new  moon,  now  rounding  to  fulness, 
when  the  last  words  had  been  spoken  in  the  Temple,  and  farewell 
taken  of  it  for  ever.  Jesus  had  hitherto  lingered  in  its  courts  till  the  gates 
closed,  at  sunset,  after  the  evening  sacrifice,  but  His  soul  this  day  was 
filled  with  immeasurable  sadness.  Israel  would  not  hear  the  words  which 
alone  could  save  it,  and,  by  its  representatives,  had  not  only  rejected  and 
blasphemed  Him,  but  was  even  now  plotting  His  death.  He  had  left  the 
Temple  courts,  therefore,  in  the  early  afternoon,  to  spend  some  hours  with 
the  little  band  of  followers  He  was  so  soon  to  leave.  They  had  sat  on  the 
slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  facing  the  Temple  and  the  city.  He  had 
passed  quietly  and  unheeded  through  the  stream  of  pilgrims  and  citizens, 
and  had  been  resting,  during  His  long  discourse,  in  the  privacy  of  His 
own  circle,  beneath  one  of  the  fig-trees  of  Olivet,  gazing,  with  full  soul,  at 
all  He  had  left  for  ever.  Had  they  known  it,  the  high  priests  and  rulers 
would  have  seen,  in  His  final  abandonment  of  "  His  Father's  House,"  a 
portent  more  awful  than  any  their  superstitious  fears  were  even  then 
noting.  For,  forty  years  before  the  destruction  of  the  Temple,  and  there- 
fore, in  the  very  days  of  our  Lord's  public  life,  it  had  been  seen,  with 
unspeakable  alarm — if  we  may  trust  the  Talmud — that  the  hindmost  lamp 
of  the  sacred  seven-branched  candlestick  in  the  Holy  Place,  one  night 
went  out ;  and,  that  the  crimson  wool  tied  to  the  horns  of  the  scapegoat, 
which  ought  to  have  turned  white  when  the  atonement  was  made,  had 
remained  red ;  and  "  the  lot  of  the  Lord,"  for  the  goat  to  be  offered  on  the 
Day  of  Expiation,  had  come  out  on  the  left  hand ;  and  the  gates  of  the 
Temple,  duly  shut  overnight,  had  been  found  open  in  the  morning.  A 
generation  later,  it  was  to  be  told,  with  pale  lips,  among  the  heathen,  that 
when  the  Temple  was  near  its  fall,  a  more  than  human  voice  had  been 
heard  from  the  Holy  of  Holies,  crying,  "  The  gods  have  departed,"  and 
that  presently,  a  great  sound,  as  of  their  issuing  forth,  had  been  heard. 

But  the  true  hour  of  Jehovah's  leaving  it,  and  that  for  ever,  was  when 
His  Son  passed  that  afternoon  through  its  gates,  to  re-enter  them  no  more. 


FAllEWELL    TO   FRIENDS.  641 

Rising  aftei'  He  had  ended  His  discourse  on  the  near  and  distant  future, 
He,  who  a  moment  before  had  anticipated  the  hour  when  He  should  come 
amidst  the  clouds  of  Heaven,  to  jndge  all  nations,  attended  by  all  the 
angels,  and  robed  in  the  splendours  of  the  Godhead,  was  once  more  the 
calm,  lowly  Teacher  and  Friend,  climbing  the  slope  with  His  handful  of 
followers,  on  the  way  to  the  well-loved  cottage  at  Bethany. 

As  they  went,  He  again  broke,  to  those  around  Him,  His  approaching 
fate.  "  You  know,"  said  He,  "  that  after  two  days  is  the  Passover,  and 
that  the  Son  of  man  is  app  ointed,  by  the  eternal  counsels  of  God,  to  be 
delivered  over  to  His  enemies,  to  be  crucified."  It  was  the  second  time 
He  had  expressly  used  that  word  of  unspeakable  degradation  and  infamy 
to  men  of  His  day — Tue  Cjioss.  But  though  they  heard  it  again,  they  could 
not  even  yet  realize  so  disastrous  an  eclipse  of  their  cherished  dreams. 

Meanwhile,  his  enemies  were  not  idle.  It  was  now  Tuesday  evening, 
and  nothing  alarming  had  followed  the  popular  demonstration  of  the  pre- 
ceding Sunday.  The  multitude,  indeed,  disappointed  by  seeing  no  signs 
of  the  national  movement  they  had  expected  that  day  to  inaugurate,  had 
lost  their  enthusiasm,  and,  in  many  cases,  grown  even  hostile.  There  was 
less  to  fear  than  the  authorities  had  apprehended.  Yet,  the  crowd  was 
fickle,  and  thousands  of  Galilteans,  the  countrymen  of  Jesus,  were  at  the 
feast,  which  was  always  so  restless  a  time  that  the  Roman  Procurator  kept 
a  double  garrison  in  Antonia  while  it  lasted,  and  himself  exchanged  the 
congenial  society  of  Cassarea  for  Jerusalem,  with  its  hated  bigotry  and 
muffled  treason.  Even  the  governor- general  of  the  province  sometimes 
indeed  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  be  present.  The  fiery  Galilseans 
might  rise  if  Jesus  were  apprehended  during  the  feast-Aveek,  and  any 
tumult  would  be  certain  to  bring  severe  measures,  at  the  hand  of  the 
Romans,  on  the  community  at  large. 

The  heads  of  the  priesthood  and  of  the  Rabbis  were  hence  in  a  difficulty, 
and  met  to  consult  on  the  wisest  course.  The  acting  high  priest,  Joseph, 
known  among  the  people  as  "  Caiaphas,"  "  the  oppressor,"  was  the  soul  of 
the  movement  against  Jesus  ;  for  his  memorable  words,  "  Why  not  this  one 
man  die,  rather  than  the  nation  ])erish  p  "  had  first  given  definite  expression 
and  formal  sanction  to  the  idea  of  putting  Him  to  death.  Throwing  all 
his  official  dignity  into  the  plot,  he  put  the  upper  court  of  his  palace,  in 
the  Upper  City,  at  the  disposal  of  those  engaged  in  it,  and  there  they  and 
he  met,  to  consult  how  they  might  get  the  Hated  One  into  their  power 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  people,  or  fear  of  a  rescue,  in  order  to  hand 
Him  over  to  the  Romans  for  crucifixion.  The  meeting  could  not,  however, 
come  to  any  fixed  plan,  from  dread  of  a  popular  rising.  No  more  could  bo 
done  than  watch,  and  take  advantage  of  the  course  of  events. 

While  murder  was  thus  being  discussed  in  the  halls  of  the  primate, 
peace  and  sacred  friendship  reigned  in  the  pleasant  home  at  Bethany. 
The  house  of  Simon,  once  a  leper,  but  cured  by  Jesus ;  now  the  abode  of 
Martha,  perhaps  his  widow,  perhaps  his  daughter ;  of  Mary,  her  sister, 
and  of  Lazarus,  so  strangely  brought  back  from  the  unseen  world— the 
one  man  raised  from  the  dead  of  whose  second  earthly  life  we  know  any 
incident— was  a  scene  of  tender  respect  and  loving  homage.     To  do  Jesus 

T   T 


642  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

honour,  the  family  had  made  a  supper  for  Him,  -witli  invited  guests,  and 
Lazarus  reclined  with  Him  on  the  table-couch.  Besides  Christ  and  His 
immediate  followers,  the  company  consisted,  doubtless,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  little  household  itself,  of  such  as  owed  their  health,  perhaps  their  life, 
or  that  of  some  friend,  to  His  miraculous  powers. 

It  Avas,  in  itself,  a  tender  proof  of  reverent  love,  that  at  such  a  time, 
T/hen  the  life  of  their  guest  was  sought  by  the  authorities  of  the  Temple 
and  Schools,  and  every  one  was  required,  on  pain  of  high  displeasure,  to 
help  them  to  arrest  Him,  He  should  have  been  thus  honoured ;  for  Beth- 
any was  close  to  Jerusalem,  and  the  act  might  have  brought  disaster  on  a 
family,  known,  like  that  of  Martha  and  Mary,  to  the  dominant  class.  But 
a  still  higher  tribute  was  paid  Him  ;  touching  and  delicate,  beyond  ex- 
pression, under  the  circumstances.  The  sisters  had  often  pondered  how" 
they  could  show  their  gratitude  for  all  He  had  been  and  all  that  He  had 
done  for  them.  He  had  healed  Simon,  and  had  given  not  only  him,  Init 
the  sisters  and  their  brother,  the  hope  of  Heaven,  by  winning  their  souls 
to  Himself,  and,  but  now.  He  had  shown  how  truly  He  was  the  Messiah, 
by  bringing  back  Lazarus  from  the  grave.  They  knew  that  the  shadows 
of  death  were  gathering  over  their  Mighty  Benefactor  Himself,  for  the 
disciples,  doubtless,  repeated  to  them  the  depressing  intimations  He  had 
made.     Mary  was  left  to  give  their  love  and  gratitude  expression. 

It  w-as  common  to  anoint  the  heads  of  the  Rabbis  who  attended  marriage 
feasts,  with  fragrant  oil,  and  special  guests  were  sometimes  similarly 
honoured.  A  grateful  penitent  had  at  an  earlier  period  anointed  even  the 
feet  of  Jesus  Himself,  washing  them,  moreover,  Avith  her  tears,  and  wiping 
them  with  her  hair,  flowing  loose,  in  self-forgetfulness.  But  now,  Mary 
outdid  all  former  honour  paid  Him.  The  costliest  anointing  oil  of  anti- 
quity was  the  pure  spikenard,  drawn  from  an  Indian  plant,  and  exposed 
for  sale  throughout  the  Roman  Empire,  in  flasks  of  alabaster,  at  a  pi"ice 
that  put  it  beyond  any  but  the  wealthy. 

Of  this  Mary  had  bought  a  flask,  containing  about  twelve  ounces'  weight, 
and  now,  coming  behind  the  guests  as  they  reclined,  opened  the  seal,  and 
poured  some  of  the  jierfume,  first  on  the  head  and  then  on  the  feet  of 
Jesus,  drying  them,  presently,  with  the  hair  of  her  head,  like  her  prede- 
cessor. She  had  rendered  a  tribute  than  which  she  could  have  given  no 
higher  to  a  king ;  but  it  was  a  worthy  symbol  of  the  rightful  devotion  of 
all  we  have  and  are,  to  Christ,  and,  as  such,  was  lovingly  accejited  by  Him. 
The  act,  however,  raised  different  thoughts  in  some  of  the  narrow  minds 
around.  As  the  fragrant  odours  filled  the  room,  voices  were  heard  muttering 
that  expense  so  lavish  for  such  an  object  was  wrong.  "  This  ointment,"  said 
one,  "  should  have  been  sold  for  three  hundred  pence,  and  given  to  the  poor. 
That  would  have  been  a  worthy  act ;  but  this — !  "     It  was  Judas  Iscariot. 

With  that  perfect  gentleness  and  repose  which  He  always  displayed  in 
such  circumstances,  the  answer  of  Jesus  showed  no  resentment,  to  hurt 
the  feelings  of  any,  but  yet  must  have  carried  joy  to  the  tender  heart  that 
had  felt  its  highest  offering  too  little  to  bestow  on  such  a  guest. 

"  Why  do  you  blame  and  trouble  her  p  "  said  He  to  the  company,  especi- 
ally to  Judas.     "  Let  her  alone.     It  is  a  good  deed  she  has  done  in  my 


FAREWELL    TO    FRIENDS.  643 

honour.  You  have  tlie  poor  with  you  always,  and  you  cau  never  want  an 
opportunity  of  showing  kindness  to  them,  if  you  wish.  But  you  have  not 
me  always  with  you.  Mary,  as  if  she  knew  I  was  soon  to  die,  has  chosen 
the  strongest  way  she  could  of  showing  how  much  she  loved  me.  She  has 
done  for  me,  as  her  Teacher,  Messiah,  and  Friend,  while  I  still  live,  what 
she  would  soon  have  had  to  do  to  my  dead  body — she  has  embalmed  me 
for  the  grave.  What  remains  will  do  for  the  day  of  my  burial.  I  tell  you, 
wherever  the  gospel  shall  be  preached  in  the  whole  world,  what  she  has 
done  will  also  be  told  for  a  memorial  of  her." 

Judas,  the  only  southern  Jew  in  the  Twelve — the  one  among  them 
brought  up,  as  it  were,  under  the  shadow  of  the  Temple — must  have  lis- 
tened with  the  bitterest  feelings  to  such  praise  of  an  act  so  hateful  to  him. 
He  had  been  with  Jesus  at  least  from  the  first  appointment  of  the  Apostles, 
and  must,  even  then,  have  been  conspicuous  as  a  disciple.  The  good  seed 
of  Christ's  words  had  sprung  up  in  his  heart,  as  in  those  of  the  others  in 
those  early  days ;  but  the  evil,  also,  small  and  unnoticed,  perhaps  at  first, 
had  been  let  spring  up  erelong,  and  it  had  grown  to  rank  strength  that 
slowly  choked  all  else.  Like  his  brethren,  he  had  cherished  gross  and 
selfish  views  of  the  prospects  to  be  opened  for  them  by  their  Master.  If 
some  of  them  were  to  be  the  high  officials  in  the  expected  World-Monarchy, 
he  had  trusted  to  get,  at  least,  some  post ;  profitable,  if  less  splendid.  In- 
deed, the  lowest  dignity  promised  inconceivable  honour,  for  were  not  all 
the  Twelve  to  sit  on  thrones  to  judge  the  Twelve  Ti'ibes  of  Israel  .P  In  the 
minds  of  the  others,  the  dream  was  loyally  subordinated  to  love  and  duty 
to  the  Master ;  in  his,  self  seized  and  held,  abidingly,  the  first  place.  The 
mildew  of  his  soul  had  spread  apace.  Trusted  with  the  common  purse  of 
the  brotherhood,  into  which  passed  the  gifts  of  friends,  to  meet  the  humble 
expenses  of  each  day,  the  honour,  sought  at  fiu'st  perhaps  in  all  upright- 
ness, became  a  fatal  snare.  His  religion  withered  apace.  Once  a  disciple 
from  honest  anxiety,  he  continued  one  in  outward  form,  from  sordid 
motives.  Gain  became  a  passion  with  him,  till,  under  the  very  eyes  of  his 
master,  he  embezzled,  as  treasurer,  the  petty  funds  in  his  hands. 

The  entry  to  Jerusalem  had  kindled  his  hopes,  after  many  chagrins  and 
disappointments,  for  the  popular  excitement  promised  to  force  on  Jesus 
the  part  of  a  K'ational  Messiah.  But,  blind,  to  His  own  interest,  as  Judas 
must  have  thought  Him,  He  had  thrown  away  the  splendid  opportunity. 
Instead  of  allying  Himself  with  the  dignitaries  of  Judaism,  and  inaugurat- 
ing a  mighty  Jewish  uprising,  with  high  priests  and  chief  Eabbis  as  His 
supporters.  He  had  assailed  both  Temple  and  School,  and  proceeded  to 
open  rupture  with  them.  Instead  of  a  crown,  He  had  spoken  of  a  cross ; 
instead  of  honours  for  His  followers,  He  had  foretold  persecutions  and 
martyrdom.  To  the  mean  and  selfish  heart  of  Judas,  the  bounty  of  Mary 
had  sufficed  to  kindle  smouldering  resentment  and  disloyalty  to  a  flame. 
If  ruin  were  certain,  he  would  profit,  if  he  could,  before  all  was  over.  If 
Jesus  must  fall  into  the  hands  of  His  enemies,  he  might  as  well  get  money 
by  what  was  unavoidable.  Had  not  He,  argued  the  diseased  spirit,  dis- 
appointed him ;  led  him  about,  for  years,  in  hopes  of  gain  in  the  end ;  and 
had  He  not,  now,  told  him  that  the  only  inheritance  he  could  expect  was 


644  THE   LIFE   OP   CHRIST. 

poverty  and  suffering  ?     He  Tvoiild  go  to  the  cliief  priests,  and  see  what 
could  Ije  done. 

Stealing  out,  therefore,  with  guilty  thoughts,  from  the  quiet  cottage, 
perhaps  when  all  its  inmates  were  sunk  in  sleep  ;  unmoved  hy  the  Divine 
love  and  purity  of  his  Master ;  forgetful,  in  the  blindness  of  his  evil  ex- 
citement, of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  through  the  last  three  eventful 
years,  he  made  his  way,  in  the  darkness  of  night,  to  the  Temple.  The 
watch  was  at  its  post  at  the  gates  and  on  its  rounds,  but  Judas  found 
means  to  reveal  his  object  to  the  captain  in  charge,  and  was  admitted. 
The  officers  hastily  gathered  to  learn  Avhy  the  stranger  thus  rudely  dis- 
turbed the  night.  "  I  come  to  betray  Jesus  of  Nazareth,"  muttered  Judas. 
"  He  had  better  be  taken  to  the  chief  priests,"  replied  those  addressed. 
Some  of  the  council  were  hastily  summoned  forthwith,  and  received  his 
overtures  with  a  joy  that  brightened  their  faces,  even  by  the  dull  light  of 
the  night-lamps— for  it  was  clear  that  a  cause  so  righteous  as  that  of  the 
Galiljean,  could  never  give  them  open  and  honest  grounds  for  His  arrest. 
Treason  must  come  to  their  aid  from  within.  So  they  bargained  with 
him ;  meanly  enough,  indeed ;  for  they  offered  for  his  villiany,  if  success- 
ful, only  thirty  shekels  of  the  Sanctuary — the  price  of  a  slave.  But  the 
covetousness  of  an  Oriental  was  fascinated  even  by  so  j^altry  a  bribe.  Ho 
sold  himself  as  their  tool,  and  from  that  time  sought  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity to  betray  Jesus,  when  the  people  were  not  round  Him. 

The  next  day,  our  Thursday,  was  the  fourteeenth  of  ISTisan,  on  which 
labour  ceased  at  noon.  Before  then  all  leaven  had  been  removed  from 
every  house,  in  preparation  for  the  Passover  in  the  evening.  Towards 
sunset,  the  Passover  lamb  was  killed  in  the  forecourts  of  the  Temple,  by 
any  one  chosen  to  do  so,  and  the  blood  and  fat  burned  on  the  altar  as  an 
offering  to  God.  The  rest  supplied  the  materials  for  the  feast,  an  hour  or 
two  later,  after  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  day  at  sunset.  The  four- 
teenth was,  therefore,  very  busy  for  the  whole  of  Jerusalem ;  for  both  it, 
the  villages  round  it,  and  the  open  country,  were  filled  with  countless 
thousands,  all  intent  on  the  same  observances. 

The  Passover  had  been  founded  to  commemorate  the  departure  from 
Egyjit,  but  its  date  permitted  the  union  with  it  of  the  feast  of  first-fruits, 
to  celebrate  the  opening  harvest,  and  it  was  also  called,  from  rites  con- 
nected with  it,  the  feast  of  unleavened  bread. 

We  are  not  told  how  Jesus  spent  Wednesday,  for  the  supper  in  the  house 
at  Bethany  was  on  Tuesday  evening.  He  apparently  stayed  in  privacy^ 
awaiting  the  coming  day. 

On  Thursday  morning  the  disciples,  taking  it  for  granted  that  He  would 
celebrate  the  feast  with  them,  came  to  Him  early  to  receive  instructions. 
Would  He  keep  it,  as  He  legally  might,  in  Bethany,  for  the  village  was 
counted  by  the  Eabbis  part  of  Jerusalem  for  religious  usages,  and  the  lamb 
might  be  eaten  in  Bethany,  though  it  must  be  killed  at  the  Temple.  It 
Avas  generally  bought  on  the  tenth  Nisan,  according  to  the  rule  of  the 
Law ;  and  though  the  strict  enforcement  of  this  command  was  not  main- 
tained, Jesus  was  careful  to  fulfil  all  the  innocent  duties  prescribed. 

No  doubt  the  disciples  expected  that  Bethany  would  be  chosen,  for  He 


FAREWELL    TO   FRIENDS.  645 

had  solemnly  turned  away  from  Jerusalem,  two  days  before,  and  to  go 
thither  again  would  be  to  put  Himself  in  the  power  of  His  enemies.  But 
He  had  resolved  once  more  to  visit  the  city  so  dear  to  Him.  It  was  the 
place  appointed  by  the  Law  for  the  feast,  and  He  would  there  be  in  the 
midst  of  the  rejoicing  multitudes,  as  Himself  a  son  of  Israel.  He  wished, 
also,  to  throw  a  greater  sacredness  over  the  institution  He  designed  to 
inaugurate  that  night  as  the  equivalent,  in  the  New  Kingdom  of  God,  of 
the  Passover  in  the  Old.  It  was  well  to  link  it  in  the  minds  of  the 
Apostles  with  the  sacredness  of  the  Temple,  under  whose  shadow,  with 
the  City  of  the  Great  King,  in  whose  bounds,  and  with  the  gathering  of 
Israel,  in  whose  midst,  it  was  founded. 

Turning,  therefore,  to  Peter  and  John,  His  usual  messengers.  He  told 
them  to  go  and  prepare  the  Passover,  that  He  and  the  Twelve  might  eat 
it  together.  "  On  entering  the  city,"  said  He,  "  you  will  meet  a  man  bear- 
ing an  earthen  jar  of  water ;  folloAV  him  into  the  house  he  enters,  ask  for 
the  master,  and  say,  '  The  Teacher  told  us  to  ask  you,  "  Where  is  the 
room  intended  for  me,  in  which  to  eat  the  Passover  with  my  disciples  ?  " ' 
And  he  will  himself  show  you  his  guest-chamber,  on  the  upper  floor,  pro- 
vided with  couches,  ready  for  us.     Get  the  supper  prepared  for  us  there." 

The  two  started  at  once,  and  foiind  everything  as  Jesus  had  said,  and 
by  evening  all  was  in  readiness  to  receive  Him  and  the  Ten.  Who  it  was 
that  thus  entertained  Him  is  not  told  us.  It  may  have  been  John  Mark,  or 
perhaps  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  the  eai"ly  scholar,  and  the  friend  after  death. 
The  Gospels  do  not  say,  and  even  tradition  is  silent.  Universal  hospi- 
tality prevailed  in  this  matter,  and  the  only  recompense  that  could  be 
given  was  the  skin  of  the  paschal  lamb,  and  the  earthen  dishes  used  at  the 
meal.  Not  fewer  than  ten,  but  often  as  many  as  twenty — enough,  in  any 
case,  to  consume  the  entire  lamb — could  sit  down  together;  but  Jesus 
wished  to  have  none  but  His  Apostles  with  Him,  that  He  might  bid  them 
a  final,  tender  farewell.  Women  were  not  commonly  present,  and  indeed 
were  excluded  by  many ;  but,  apart  from  this,  the  evening  was  designed 
as  a  time  of  deepest  communion  with  the  trusted  Twelve  alone,  and  hence, 
neither  the  outer  circle  of  disciples,  nor  the  ministering  women  who  had 
lovingly  followed  Him  from  Galilee,  were  invited. 

Peter  and  John  had  had  much  to  do  beforehand.  It  may  be,  the  lamb 
was  yet  to  be  bought  that  morning,  for  its  purchase  on  the  tenth  had  fallen 
rather  out  of  use.  They  had  to  choose,  from  the  countless  pens  in  which 
the  victims  were  offered  for  sale,  a  male  lamb  of  a  year  old,  without 
blemish  of  any  kind.  In  Galilee,  no  secular  work  was  done  all  day  ;  but, 
at  Jerusalem,  it  ceased  only  at  noon.  About  two,  the  blast  of  horns 
announced  that  the  priests  and  Levites  in  the  Temple  were  ready,  and  the 
gates  of  the  inner  courts  were  opened,  that  all  might  bring  their  lambs 
for  examination,  and  might  satisfy  the  priests  as  to  the  number  intending 
to  consume  each.  Forthwith,  the  long  lines  of  household  fathers,  servants, 
disciples  of  the  Eal)bis,  and  others,  and,  among  the  rest,  the  two  Apostles 
deputed  by  Jesus,  pressed  across  the  Court  of  the  Men,  which  was  gaily 
ta])estried  and  adorned,  to  the  gate  of  the  priests'  court,  the  lamb  on  their 
shoulders,  Avith  a  knife  stuck  in  the  wool  or  tied  to  the  horn. 


646  THE   LIFE    OF   CHKIST. 

About  half-past  two  the  evening  offerhig  was  killed,  and  about  an  honr 
after  it  was  laid  on  the  great  altar.  Foi'thwith,  three  blasts  of  the 
trumpets  of  the  priests,  and  the  choral  singing  of  the  great  Hallel  by  the 
Levites,  gave  the  signal  for  the  slaughter  of  the  Passover  lambs,  which 
had  to  be  finished  between  the  hours  of  three  and  five.  As  many  officers 
were  admitted  as  the  courts  would  hold,  and  then  the  gates  were  shut. 
Heads  of  families,  or  servants  deputed  by  them,  killed  the  lambs,  and  the 
priests,  in  two  long  rows,  with  great  silver  and  gold  vessels  of  curious 
shape,  caught  the  blood  and  passed  it  to  others  behind,  till  it  reached  the 
altar,  at  the  foot  of  which  it  was  poui'ed  out.  The  victims,  hung  on  the 
iron  hooks  of  the  walls  and  pillars  of  the  courts,  or  on  a  stick  between  the 
shoulders  of  two  men,  were  then  skinned,  and  cut  open ;  the  tail,  the  fat, 
the  kidneys,  and  liver,  set  apart  for  the  altar ;  the  rest,  wrapped  in  the 
skin,  being  carried  home  from  the  Temple  towards  evening.  As  the  new 
day  opened,  at  sunset,  the  carcass  was  trussed  for  roasting,  on  two 
skcAvers  of  pomegranate  wood,  so  that  they  fonmed  a  cross  in  the  lamb. 
It  was  then  put  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  having  been  covered  with  an 
earthen  oven  without  a  bottom,  was  roasted  in  the  earth.  The  feast  could 
begin  immediately  after  the  sun  set  and  the  appearing  of  the  stars,  on  the 
opening  of  the  fifteenth  of  ISTisan,  which  was  proclaimed  by  fresh  trumpet 
blasts  from  the  Temple. 

Judas  had  stolen  back  to  Bethany  before  daylight,  that  his  absence 
might  not  be  missed,  and,  after  another  day's  bitter  hypocrisy,  under  the 
burning  eyes  of  his  Master,  followed  Him,  with  the  other  Apostles,  to 
Jerusalem,  in  the  evening.  They  must  have  breathed  heavily  in  the 
troubled  air,  for  presentiments  of  unknown  dangers  filled  every  heart. 
They  still  clung  to  their  old  dream  of  a  visible  earthly  kingdom  of  God, 
under  their  Master,  but  their  spirits  must  have  sunk  within  them  as  they 
passed  through  the  vast  multitudes,  wholly  absorbed  in  the  approaching 
feast,  with  no  sign  of  preparation  for  a  national  Messianic  movement,  and 
along  the  illuminated  streets,  in  which  no  one  took  notice  of  them.  That 
the  hierarchy  had  denounced  Jesus  was,  itself,  enough  to  fill  their  simple 
minds  with  dismay,  for  its  splendour  and  power  seemed  reflected  in  the 
myriads  assembled  from  the  whole  world,  to  honour  the  faith  and  the 
Temple,  of  which  they  were  the  public  representatives.  And  was  not  the 
tiara  worn  by  a  fierce  Sadducee  ?  "Were  not  the  governing  families  ex- 
clusively of  this  cruel  and  inhuman  party?  As  they  passed  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Temple,  with  its  gleaming  lights,  its  mai-ble  bastions,  and 
its  immemorial  traditions,  they  must  have  felt  that,  unless  Jesus  chose  at 
last  to  do  what  He  had  never  yet  done,  even  for  a  moment — unless  He 
used  His  supernatural  power  in  self-defence  and  for  self-aggrandisement 
—they  were  hopelessly  lost. 

To  Jesus  Himself  the  moment  was  unspeakably  solemn.  His  scarcely 
founded  Kingdom  was  about  to  pass  through  the  severest  trial.  The 
temporary  and  earthly  in  it  were  to  be  violently  separated,  for  ever,  from 
the  heavenly  and  eternal.  All  hoioes  of  a  worldly  kingdom,  so  deeply 
rooted  in  the  minds  of  His  followers,  were  to  be  destroyed,  and  He,  the 
visible  Head  of  the  Kingdom,  to  be  apprehended,  dishonoured,  and  cruci- 


FAREWELL   TO   FEIENDS. 


647 


fied.  The  thoughts  of  His  disciples  were  to  be  raised  from  the  idea  of  a 
Messiah  present  with  them,  to  a  Messiah  in  heaven,  to  appear,  henceforth, 
no  more,  but  by  His  return  from  the  invisible  world.  To  be  true  to  Him, 
meant,  from  this  time,  the  realization  of  a  spiritual  conception  as  yet  un- 
attained  by  even  the  most  enlightened  of  the  Twelve. 

But  Christ  was  in  no  degree  turned  aside  or  paralyzed  in  His  resolution 
by  such  dangers.  "While  in  no  sense  courting  death,  and  even  wishful,  if 
it  pleased  His  Father,  to  escape  its  attendant  horrors,  He  moved  towards 
the  appointed  and  foreseen  end,  with  sublime  self-possession  and  holy 
peace  of  soul,  recognising  all  that  yet  remained  for  Him  to  do,  and  doing 
it  with  a  Divine  serenity.  His  bearing  to  the  great  world  to  the  last,  His 
action  and  His  self-restraint,  are  alike  wonderful ;  but  it  must  strike  us 
still  more,  as  we  observe  it  closely,  how  He  acted  in  the  circle  of  His  chosen 
ones  as  the  catastrophe  pressed  nearer  and  nearer. 

When  the  Twelve,  with  their  Master,  had  entered  the  room,  to  take  tiieir 
places  on  the  cushions,  for  the  meal,  the  greatness  of  the  change  yet  to  be 
wrought  on  their  minds  was  once  more  strikingly  shown.  In  spite  of  all 
He  had  said,  the  question  of  precedence  was  uppermost  in  their  thoughts. 

As  the  head  of  the  group,  Jesus  naturally  took  the  first  place  on  the 
highest  couch — the  outermost,  on  the  right  of  the  hollow  sriuare ;  His  face 
towards  the  second  place ;  His  feet  outwards.  Eesting  His  left  elbow  and 
side  on  a  cushion  the  whole  breadth  of  the  couch,  His  right  hand  was  thus 


Middle  Couch. 


Highest. 

e 

c 

fl 

.a 

s 

6 

w 

o 

<u 

^ 

^ 

o 

1-1 

Lowest. 

10  ^^'-^ "V^  4 

'7  ^ ' 

I  Table.  | 


Lowc&t. 


rti-rlicst. 


to 


Teicli.viuit. 


free,  while  the  Apostle  next  Him  reclined  so  that  his  head  lay,  as  it  wore 
in  his  Master's  bosom.  It  had  been  the  custom,  in  ancient  times,  to  eat 
the  Passover  standing,  but  the  Eabbis  had  changed  it  for  the  Gentile  prac- 
tice of  reclining.  It  was  like  slaves,  t'lcy  said,  to  eat  standing,  and  as 
Israel  was  not  a  race  of  slaves  but  of  free  men,  they  should  eat  the  feast 
reclining;  a  flattery  so  pleasing  to  the  natural  arrogance  that  even  the 
poorest  adopted  the  new  mode. 


648  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

But  this  Jewish  pride  in  the  Apostles,  made  still  more  fierce  by  selfish 
ambition,  in  prospect  of  the  political  glory  they  still  perversely  hoped  for, 
could  ill  brook  to  take  a  lower  place  than  others.  It  was  a  grave  matter 
for  them,  as  for  the  Pharisees,  who  should  have  the  higher  seats,  for,  in 
their  delusion,  they  assumed  that  it  might  affect  their  future  position  in 
the  Messianic  State,  to  be  founded,  as  they  dreamed,  presently.  So  the 
strife  that  had  broken  out  on  the  other  side  of  Jericho,  once  more  dis- 
tressed their  Mastei',  and  He  could  only  still  it  by  repeating  the  keen  re- 
buke He  then  gave  them.  "lu  my  kingdom,"  said  He,  "to  be  humble  is 
to  be  great ;  the  lowliest  is,  in  it,  the  highest."  No  more  was  needed ;  the 
struggle,  now,  would  rather  be  for  the  lowest  place. 

But  He  did  not  confine  Himself  to  words.  Rising  from  the  couch,  when 
the  supper  was  just  about  to  begin,  and  girding  Himself  with  a  towel,  like 
a  slave,  after  laying  aside  His  upper  garments.  He  poured  water  into  a 
basin,  and  began  to  wash  the  feet  of  the  disciples.  Pride  and  selfish  ambi- 
tion could  not  be  more  strikingly  and  touchingly  reproved,  than  by  such  an 
act  on  the  part  of  One  who  knew  that  all  things  had  been  given  into  His 
hands  by  God  His  Father,  and  that  He  had  come  forth  from  Him,  and  was 
about  to  return  to  Him.  No  greater  proof  could  be  shown  of  His  love, 
than  that  such  an  instance  of  humility  should  be  its  natural  expression. 
Had  they  all  been  true-hearted,  it  would  have  been  amazing  in  One  so  trans- 
cendently  above  them,  but  it  was  still  more  so,  when  He  knew  that  one  of 
them  Avas  already  a  traitor.  He  had  proclaimed  Himself  the  Son  of  God, 
the  future  judge  of  the  world,  the  Messiah  in  whose  gift  were  the  honours  of 
heaven,  and  whose  voice  was  to  raise  the  dead,  and  they  were  simple  Galilaean 
fishermen.  There  could  be  no  commentary  on  His  demand  for  lowliness, 
as  the  true  ground  of  advancement  in  His  kingdom  more  vivid  than  His 
voluntarily  performing  the  lowliest  act  of  personal  service  to  them  all. 

He  seems  to  have  begun  with  Simon  Peter,  His  chief  Apostle,  but  the 
warm  heart  and  the  impulsive  nature  of  the  rock-like  man  shrank  from 
allowing  his  Master  to  humble  Himself  thus.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  dost  Thou 
wash  my  feet !  "  He  had  not  realized  the  meaning  of  an  act  intended  as 
symbolical.  "  What  I  do,"  replied  Jesus,  "  thou  understandest  not  now,  but 
wilt  know  hereafter."  "  Thoii,  shalt  never  wash  my  feet,  Lord,"  reiterated 
the  Apostle.  "  If  I  do  not  wash  thee,"  said  Jesus,  "  thou  hast  no  part  with 
me."  "  Lord,  if  that  be  the  case,"  broke  out  Peter,  "  wash  not  my  feet 
only,  but  my  hands  and  my  head."  "  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  Jesus. 
"  He  who,  according  to  Jewish  ways,  has  taken  a  bath  before  his  meal, 
needs  no  more  than  to  cleanse  the  dust  from  his  feet,  which  had  clung  to 
them  on  the  way  from  the  bath.  Except  tliis,  he  is  clean,  and  it  is  the 
same  with  you,  except  him  who  intends  to  betray  me.  By  my  word,  which 
I  have  spoken  to  you,  and  the  faith  kindled  in  you  by  it,  you  are  already 
clean  in  the  sense  I  mean — right  in  the  desire  of  your  heart  towards  me. 
Yet,  though  thus  clean,  the  dust  of  earth  still  clings  to  you  in  part,  and 
makes  a  last  washing  needful."  The  hour  was  at  hand  for  this  last  crown- 
ing act  of  love— the  shedding  His  blood  for  them  for  the  remission  of  their 
sins— and  He  would  now  prepare  them  for  it  by  this  tender  symbol,  for  it 
taught  not  only  humility,  but  that  He  alone  could  take  away  sin. 


FAREWELL    TO    FRIENDS.  649 

Having  waslied  their  feet,  and  resumed  His  garmeuts,  He  once  more 
took  His  place  on  the  conch. 

"  Do  you  know,"  He  asked,  as  He  did  so,  "  the  meaning  of  what  I  have 
now  done  ?  You  call  me  Teacher  and  Lord,  and  you  are  right,  for  I  am 
both.  Learn,  then,  that,  if  I,  your  Master  and  Lord,  wash  your  feet,  you, 
also,  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet,  for  I  have  done  this  as  an  exainple 
to  you,  that  you  should  do  to  each  other  as  I  have  done  to  you.  You  know, 
and  I  would  have  you  remember  it,  that  a  servant  is  not  greater  than  his 
lord,  nor  an  apostle  than  He  who  sent  him  forth,  so  that  you  may  well  imi- 
tate me,  your  superior,  in  my  humility.  If  you  understand  what  I  say,  take 
heed  that,  henceforth,  you  act  on  my  teaching.  I  do  not,  indeed,  speak  of 
you  all.  I  know  your  characters  and  hearts,  but  all  has  happened  in  fulfil- 
ment of  the  Divine  will,  for  the  Scripture  must  needs  be  fulfilled,  which 
says,  '  He  that  eats  bread  with  me,  craftily  lifts  up  his  heel  against  me,' 
to  trip  and  overthrow  me.  I  tell  you  before  it  hajDpen,  that,  when  it  does 
take  place,  you  may  believe  that  I  am  indeed  the  Messiah,  and  that  no 
other  is  to  be  expected.  That  I  should  be  betrayed  by  one  of  ourselves 
might  have  shaken  your  faith  in  me,  but  it  cannot  do  so  when  I  have  fore- 
seen and  foretold  it,  as  part  of  the  counsel  of  God.  But  to  cheer  and  en- 
courage you  in  your  faithfulness,  I  announce  it,  tliat  you  may  go  forthwith 
joyful  hearts  to  the  mission  on  which  I  have  sent  you.  Your  high  position, 
as  my  Apostles,  remains  unaffected  by  the  treachery  of  one  of  your  num- 
ber. For  I  now  solemnly  repeat,  what  I  said  before,  he  who  receives  you 
is  accounted  by  me  as  if  he  had  received  myself,  and  he  who  receives  me 
receives  God  the  Father  who  sent  me,  for  He  dwells  in  me,  and  I  in  Him." 

The  supper  now  began,  but  the  spirit  of  Jesus  was  still  clouded  and 
troubled  by  the  presence  of  the  traitor.  At  last  His  feelings  broke  out 
into  irrepressible  words.  "  Yerily,  verily,"  said  He,  "  one  of  you  who  eat 
with  me,  will  betray  me.  His  hand  is  with  me  on  the  table."  They  had 
never  hitherto  realized  His  hints,  and  to  their  honest  and  faithful  hearts 
the  very  idea  of  treason  was  almost  beyond  belief.  They  could  not  think 
who  was  meant,  for  Judas  had  managed,  by  his  hypocrisy,  to  hide  his 
character  from  them  all.  One  by  one,  they  began  to  ask,  "  Lord,  is  it  I  ?  " 
"It  is  one,"  replied  Jesus,  "  who  dips  with  me  into  the  dish.  The  Son  of 
man,  indeed,  goes  from  this  world  in  this  way,  by  the  counsels  of  God,  but 
woe  to  that  man  by  whom  He  is  betrayed!  It  would  have  been  well  for 
him  if  he  had  not  been  born  !  "  Words  thus  general  only  increased  the 
pain  and  emotion  of  all.  At  last,  Peter,  not  venturing  to  ask  directly  who 
it  could  be,  but  conscious  of  his  own  integrity,  beckoned  to  John,  who  lay 
nest  our  Lord,  to  ask  Him  who  could  be  so  base.  "  It  is  he,"  whispered 
Jesus,  "  who  is  just  about  to  diiJ  the  bitter  herbs  into  this  charoseth  with 
me,  and  to  whom  I  shall  give  some  of  it  presently." 

He  then  dipped  the  piece  of  bread  into  the  charoseth,  and  handed  it  to 
Judas.  "  Is  it  IP "  asked  the  guilty  man,  conscience-stricken,  and  yet 
unmelted.  He  had  not  heard  the  words  of  John,  but  his  guilty  soul  could 
not  help  stammering  out  the  question,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  keep  up  the 
mockery  of  true-heartedness  he  had  acted  so  long.  The  awful  reply,  that 
"  it  was,"  tore  away  the  mask  at  once,  and  unveiled  his  heart.     That  all 


G50  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

was  known  would  have  overwhelmed  some  in  shame  and  contrition,  Ijiit  it 
only  hardened  the  betrayer.  The  wild  madness  of  evil  was  on  him  for  the 
time.  He  could  think  only  of  himself ;  his  fancied  wrongs  ;  his  full  resolve. 
Satan  had  entered  his  soul,  and  liis  whole  nature  was  bent  to  the  dark 
ends  of  tlie  Evil  One.  It  may  be  that  the  exposure  roused  him  to  the 
heedlessness  of  despair,  as  when  the  arch  enemy  bade  hope  farewell, 

"  and,  with  hope,  farewell  fear. 
Farewell  remorse :  all  good  to  me  is  lost ; 
Evil,  be  thou  my  good !  " 

It  was  vain  for  him  to  seek  to  hide  the  workings  of  his  soul  by  an  affected 

outward  calm.     He  had  long  veiled  falsehood 

"under  saintly  show, 
Deep  malice  to  conceal,  couch' d  with  revenge." 

But  the  eyes  of  his  Master  shone  into  the  depths  of  his  being,  and  saw  the 
tumult  of  his  worst  passions,  in  their  mastery.  "  What  you  have  to  do," 
B.iid  Jesus,  "  do  quickly."  He  could  not  breathe  freely  till  the  miserable 
man  had  left,  and  besides,  He  would  fain  meet  the  inevitable  as  soon  as 
might  be,  for  the  slow  advance  of  a  catastrophe  is  harder  to  bear  than  the 
catastrophe  itself.  Judas  knew  the  meaning  of  the  command  at  once,  and, 
having  received  the  piece  of  bread,  dipped  in  the  charoseth,  moodily  took 
it,  and  silently  withdrew  into  the  outer  night.  The  Eleven  were  too  much 
confused  to  realize  the  end  as  so  near  at  hand.  Beti-ayal  might  come,  but 
at  some  future,  perhaps  distant,  time.  They  only  fancied,  therefore,  that 
Judas  had  left  either  to  buy  what  might  be  needed  during  the  week  of  tho 
feast,  or  for  that  special  night ;  or  that  Jesus  had  bethought  Himself  of 
some  deed  of  mercy  to  the  poor,  and  sent  him  to  carry  it  out.  The  traitor 
gone,  Christ  felt  free  to  speak,  and,  as  if  relieved  of  a  load,  broke  out  into 
a  joyful  anticipation  of  His  fast-coming  triumph.  In  the  near  vision  of 
the  Cross,  His  work  seemed  already  finished ;  His  glory,  as  Conqueror  of 
Death  and  Hell,  and  Redeemer  of  Mankind,  attained,  and  that  of  God  the 
Father  illustrated. 

"  Now,"  said  He,  in  effect,  "  the  Sou  of  man  is  already  glorified.  All 
things  are  hastening  to  His  triumph,  and,  in  that  triumph,  God  Himself 
will  also  be  glorified,  for  it  is  His  work  which  I  shall  presently  complete. 
And  if  God  be  thus  glorified  in  my  death  for  the  salvation  of  man,  He  will 
assuredly  crown  me  with  His  own  heavenly  glory,  when  I  return  to  Him ; 
the  glory  that  I  had  with  Him  before  I  came  to  earth  to  become  man,  and 
that  even  now  is  close  at  hand,  through  my  death,  which  will  usher  me 
into  it.     The  betrayer  has  gone  to  accomplish  it ! 

"  My  children,  for  I  call  you  so  in  love,  I  shall  bo  only  a  little  while 
longer  with  you,  and  you  will  feel  the  want  of  my  presence,  and  wish  for 
me ;  but,  as  I  once  said  to  my  enemies,  I  shall  be  where  you  cannot  follow 
and  find  me.  For  a  parting  word,  let  me  give  you  a  last  command — my 
very  last ;  a  new  command,  to  be  kept,  so  much  the  more — that,  hencefoi'th, 
ye  love  each  other  because  I  have  loved  you  all,  and  because  you  all  love 
me.  I  have  often,  before,  told  you  to  be  like  God  by  your  loving  all  men, 
but  I  now  tell  you  to  do  so  for  the  love  I  bear  to  you,  and  for  that  which 
you  bear  to  me.     You  must,  henceforth,  be  known  as  members  of  my 


FABEWELL   TO   FRIENDS.  651 

kingdom,  by  the  love  you  show  to  each  other.  And  the  love  you  have,  as 
brethren,  must  be  such,  and  as  great,  as  mine  has  been  towards  you  all." 

As  He  thus  spoke,  Peter  still  dwelt,  in  his  thoughts,  on  the  sad  words 
which  seemed  to  foreshadow  a  lasting  sepai-ation  between  him  and  his 
Master.  "Lord,"  said  he,  in  his  bold,  impetuous  way,  "you  speak  of 
going  away ;  pray  tell  us  whither  yoii  are  going.  Will  you  leave  us  and 
go  to  the  Gentiles  P  "  "I  go  to  a  place,"  rei^lied  Jesus,  "  where  you  cannot 
follow  me  at  present,  however  willing  you  may  be  to  do  so.  Yet,  do  not 
fear.  We  shall  not  be  sej^arated  for  ever.  You  will,  one  day,  follow  me, 
in  the  same  way,  and  then  you  will  come  to  me."  Peter's  heart  could  not 
be  silent.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  come  to  Thee,  Lord,"  said  he,  "  even  after 
a  time,  but  why  can  I  not  go  with  Thee  now?  Thou  knowest  me.  I  am 
ready  to  lay  down  my  life  for  Thee." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  replied  Jesus,  with  a  look  full  of  friendship,  and 
yet  also  of  earnest  sadness.  "  You  little  know  your  own  heart.  All  of  you 
will  forsake  me,  and  leave  me  to  my  enemies,  this  very  night,  as  Zechariah, 
the  prophet,  has  foretold — '  I  will  smite  the  shepherd,  and  the  sheep  of  the 
flock  will  be  scattered  abroad.'  But  be  not  cast  down  with  too  much 
sorrow.  After  I  have  risen  from  the  dead,  I  will  go  into  Galilee,  and 
gather  you  round  me  once  more." 

The  idea  of  forsaking  his  Master,  whom  he  loved  so  dearly,  was  too  in- 
conceivable, however,  to  Peter,  in  the  self-confidence  of  his  affection,  to 
allow  him  to  accept  it  as  possible.  "Other  men  may,  perhaps,  be  oft'ended 
on  account  of  Thee,  Lord,"  said  he,  "  but  if  all  the  world  were  to  be  so, 
there  is  no  fear  of  my  failing.     I,  at  any  rate,  will  never  leave  Thee." 

"  Simon,  Simon,"  replied  Jesus,  using  the  old  name  by  which  he  had 
known  him  long  ago,  "  take  care.  Self-confidence  will  be  your  undoing. 
Satan  has  seen  it,  and  has  sought  to  get  God  to  give  you  and  your  fellow- 
disciples  over  into  his  power,  as  he  once  did  Job,  to  sift  j'ou  as  wheat  is 
sifted.  He  would  fain  have  it  that  your  professions  are  only  chaff,  and  he 
will  shake  and  test  you  by  temptations,  dangers,  and  troubles,  to  try  to 
make  you  turn  against  me,  and  thus  prove  that  it  is  so.  But  I  am  mightier 
than  your  enemy,  and  I  have  prayed  for  you  that,  though  you  fall,  you 
may  rise  again,  and  that  your  faith  in  me  may  not  give  way  altogether 
and  separate  you  entirely  from  me.  Though  you  will  assuredly  fall,  yet 
you  will  repent,  and  when  you  have  done  so,  see  that  you  strengthen  the 
faith  of  your  fellow-disciples,  and  become  their  helper,  to  support  and  con- 
firm them,  if  they,  like  you,  waver." 

Peter  was  sorely  distressed  at  such  words.  Conscious  of  his  honest  love 
and  fidelity,  it  seemed  as  if  Jesus  doubted  both.  His  warm  Galila:an  heart 
was  full.  He  felt  as  if  his  Master  spoke  oE  his  acting  in  a  way  of  which  he 
could  not  believe  himself  capable.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  I  care  not  what  happens 
to  Thee.  I  am  ready  to  go  with  Thee  to  prison,  or  to  die  with  Thee,  but  I 
will  never  leave  Thee,  nor  be  untrue  to  Thee."  "  Do  you  think  so,  Peter  P  " 
replied  Jesus,  with  a  voice  full  of  tenderness  ;  "  I  tell  you  that  this  very  night, 
before  the  cock  crow  the  second  time,  you  will  thrice  deny  that  you  know 
me."  "  If  I  were  to  die  for  it,"  answered  the  Apostle,  "  no  one  will  ever 
hear  me  deny  Thee."     "  I  can  say  the  same,"  added  all  the  other  Apostles. 


652  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

There  was  now  a  jjause  for  a  short  time  in  the  conversation.  Presently 
Jesus  re-commenced  it.  "  You  may  wonder  at  my  speaking  as  I  have 
done  to-night,"  said  He,  "  but  there  are  good  grounds  for  it.  Your  cir- 
cumstances will  be  entirely  different,  henceforth,  from  what  thoy  have 
been  in  the  past.  A  time  of  care  and  struggle  lies  before  you.  When  I 
sent  you  to  travel  through  the  country,  preaching  the  Kingdom,  and  you 
had  neither  purse,  nor  bag  for  food,  nor  sandals,  did  you  miss  any  of  these, 
or  want  for  anything  ?  "  "  Nothing,  Lord,"  said  the  Eleven.  "  It  will  be 
very  different  now,"  replied  Jesus.  "  Whoever  has  money,  let  him  take  it, 
and  let  him  take  provisions  for  the  way,  as  well ;  and  let  him  that  has  no 
sword  sell  his  coat  to  buy  one,  to  defend  himself.  He  who  has  money  and 
provisions  can  help  himself  on  by  them  in  his  journeys,  but  he  who  has 
none  will  need  to  ask  hospitality,  and,  as  he  will  too  seldom  receive  it,  let 
him,  at  least,  have  the  means  of  pi'otection.  I  speak  in  a  figure,  for  I  do 
not  really  mean  you  to  fight,  or  to  carry  or  use  a  sword,  but  I  wish  to 
impress  on  you  how  hostile  the  world  will  henceforth  be  to  you,  as  you  go 
on  your  journeys  as  my  Apostles  ;  and  what  earnest  energy  and  struggle 
will  be  needful,  on  your  part,  while  you  are  thus  carrying  the  news  of  the 
Kingdom  through  the  world.  For  I  tell  you,  solemnly,  that  the  words  of 
Isaiah,  '  And  He  was  reckoned  among  transgressors,'  must  be  fulfilled  in 
me,  for  that  which  has  been  written  of  me  in  Scripture  is  about  to  be 
accomplished." 

The  disciples,  always  ready  to  understand  in  the  jnost  material  sense 
whatever  they  heard,  had  failed  to  catch  the  real  meaning  of  Jesus  in  His 
reference  to  the  sword.  They  fancied  that  He  wished  them  to  provide 
weapons  to  resist  approaching  danger.  "  We  have  two  swords,"  said  one 
of  them.  "  That  will  do,"  replied  Jesus,  gently  avoiding  further  explana- 
tion. "  You  will  not  need  more  than  the  two," — a  touch  of  sad  irony 
which  sufficed  to  show,  even  then,  that  He  had  thought  of  something  very 
different  as  their  defence  than  the  purchase  of  arms;  for  how  were  the 
nine,  who  had  no  swords  at  all,  to  protect  themselves,  when  scattered  on 
the  apostolic  journeys  of  which  He  had  spoken  ? 

The  evening  was  now  somewhat  advanced,  according  to  Eastern  notions, 
but  the  Passover  meal,  in  its  different  rites,  could  not  be  hurried.  Though 
we  caiinot  tell  how  far  the  usual  customs  were  followed  by  Jesus,  the  feast 
began  thus  in  other  circles.  A  cup  of  red  wine,  mingled  with  a  fourth 
part  of  water,  to  make  it  a  pleasant  and  temperate  drink,  was  filled  by  one 
of  the  company,  and  given  to  the  head  of  the  family,  who  took  it  in  his 
right  hand  as  he  rested  on  the  couch,  on  his  left  side  and  arm,  and  thanked 
God  in  the  words — "  Blessed  be  Thou,  O  Lord  our  God,  Thou  King  of  the 
world,  who  createdst  the  fruit  of  the  vine."  He  then  tasted  the  cup,  and 
passed  it  round.  Thanks  for  the  institution  of  the  washing  of  hands 
followed,  and  then  the  washing  itself,  which  was  merely  formal.  "Bitter" 
herbs,  such  as  endives,  lettuce,  and  the  like,  were  next  set  on  the  table,  to 
represent  the  hard  life  of  Egypt.  Thanks  were  given  for  them  also,  and 
then  they  were  passed  round  and  eaten,  after  dipping  them  in  a  mixture 
of  salt  and  vinegar.  The  unleavened  bread— the  bread  of  affliction— 
which  gave  one  of  its  names  to  the  feast,  followed  next,  and  then  the  bowl 


FAREWELL   TO    FRIENDS.  653 

of  charoseth  and  the  Passover  lamb.  After  this,  the  head  of  the  company 
once  more  gave  thanks  to  Him  "  who  created  the  fruit  of  the  earth,"  and 
the  bitter  herbs  wei'e  dipped  by  each  in  the  charoseth,  and  a  piece  of  it, 
"  the  size  of  an  olive,"  eaten  with  them  by  all.  A  second  single  cup  of 
wine  mingled  with  water,  was  now  poured  out,  discourse  on  the  lessons  of 
the  feast  was  held,  and  then  the  hundred  and  thirteenth  and  hundred  and 
fourteenth  Psalms,  part  of  the  Hallel,  were  sung.  Another  short  thanks- 
giving followed,  and  the  cup  was  once  more  passed  round  and  tasted. 

The  household  father  now  washed  his  hands  again,  and  then  took  two  of 
the  unleavened  cakes,  and  breaking  one  of  them  across,  laid  the  pieces  on 
the  other,  and  pronounced  a  thanksgiving — "  Blessed  be  He  who  makes 
bread  to  grow  from  the  earth,"  wrapped  some  bitter  herbs  round  a  piece  of 
the  broken  bread,  dipped  it  in  the  charoseth,  ate  it,  after  another  special 
thanksgiving,  and,  with  it,  a  part  of  the  lamb ;  the  others  following  his 
example.  The  supper  had  only  now  properly  begun.  Each  ate  and  drank 
at  his  will ;  all,  alike,  in  the  patriarchal  way  of  the  East,  lifting  what  they 
chose  from  the  common  dish,  with  their  fingers.  A  third  cup  of  wine, 
passed  round,  marked  the  close  of  the  feast  as  a  religious  solemnity. 

The  meal  had  advanced  thus  far,  and  was  now  virtually  finished,  when 
the  warning  had  been  given  of  the  approaching  denial  of  their  Master  by 
Peter,  and  the  weak-minded  desertion  of  the  Eleven.  The  solemn  words, 
foretelling  the  [dangers  and  trials  before  them,  had  been  added,  when 
Jesus,  now  in  the  bosom  of  the  little  band,  nearest  and  dearest  to  Him  on 
earth — His  companions  through  the  past  years,  since  His  public  work  be- 
gun—introduced by  an  act  befitting,  in  its  simplicity,  a  sjoiritual  religion 
like  His,  the  institution  which,  henceforth,  should  supersede  in  His  king- 
dom on  earth  the  feast  they  had  ended.  Homage  had  been  paid  for  the 
last  time,  as  in  farewell,  to  the  Past ;  they  were,  hereafter,  to  honour  the 
new  Symbol  of  the  Future, 

He  was  about  to  leave  them,  and,  as  yet,  they  had  no  rite,  however 
simple,  to  form  a  centre  round  which  they  might  permanently  gather. 
Some  emblem  was  needed,  by  which  they  might,  hereafter,  be  distin- 
guished ;  some  common  bond,  which  should  outwardly  link  them  to  each 
other,  and  to  their  common  Master.  The  Passover  had  been  the  symbol 
of  the  theocracy  of  the  past,  and  had  given  the  people  of  God  an  outward, 
ever-recurring  remembrance  of  their  relations  to  each  other  and  to  their 
invisible  King.  As  the  founder  of  the  New  Israel,  Jesus  would  now  insti- 
tute a  special  rite  for  its  members,  in  all  ages  and  countries.  The  Old 
Covenant  of  God  with  the  Jew  had  found  its  vivid  embodiment  in  the 
yearly  festivity  He  had  that  night,  for  the  last  time,  observed.  The  New 
Covenant  must,  henceforth,  have  an  outward  embodiment  also;  more 
spiritual,  as  became  it,  but  equally  vivid. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  touching  and  beautiful  in  its  simplicity 
than  the  symbol  now  introduced.  The  Third  Cup  was  known  as  "  the  cup 
of  blessing,"  and  had  marked  the  close  of  the  meal,  held  to  do  honour  to 
the  economy  that  was  passing  away.  The  bread  had  been  handed  round 
with  the  words,  "This  is  the  bread  of  affliction;"  and  the  flesh  of  the  lamb 
iiad  been  distributed  with  the  words,  "  This  is  the  body  of  the  Passover." 


654  THE   LIFE    OF   CnillST. 

The  foast  of  the  ancient  people  of  God  having  been  honoured  by  these 
striking  utterances, — Jesus  took  one  of  the  loaves  or  cakes  before  Him, 
gave  thanks,  broke  it,  and  handed  it  to  the  Aj)ostlcs  with  words,  the  re- 
petition, almost  exactly,  of  those  they  had  heard  a  moment  before — "Take, 
eat ;  this  is  my  body,  which  is  given  for  you ;  tiiis  do  in  remembrance  of 
me."  Then,  taking  the  cup,  which  had  been  filled  for  the  fourth  and  last 
handing  round.  He  gave  thanks  to  God  once  more,  and  passed  it  to  the 
circle,  with  the  words,  "  Drink  ye  all  of  it,  for  this  cup  is  the  New  Cove- 
nant "  jaresently  to  be  made  "  in  my  blood ;  "  instead  of  the  covenant  made 
also  in  blood,  by  God,  with  your  fathers  ;  "  it  is,"  in  abiding  symbol,  "  my 
blood  of  the  Covenant"  of  my  Father,  with  the  New  Israel,  "which  is  shed 
for  you  and  for  many  for  the  remission  of  sins.  This  do,  as  often  as  ye 
drink,  in  remembrance  of  Me." 

For  Himself,  He  declined  to  taste  it.  "  I  will  not  drink,  henceforth," 
said  He,  "  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine — for  it  was  still  only  wine — till  that  day, 
when,  at  the  end  of  all  things,  the  Kingdom  of  God,  wdiich  I  have  founded, 
shall  finally  triumph,  and  my  followers  be  gathered  to  the  great  heavenly 
feast.     Then,  I  shall  drink  it  new  with  you  and  them." 

Such,  and  so  simple,  was  the  new  rite  of  the  Spiritual  Theocracy.  To 
those  around  Him  at  its  institution,  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  its  mean- 
ing and  nature,  for  it  was,  even  in  words,  a  counterpart  of  that  which  He 
had  superseded  with  a  purer  and  more  si^iritual  form.  The  cup,  He  told 
them,  was  a  symbol  of  the  New  Covenant,  under  which,  as  His  followers, 
they  had  come  ;  in  distinction  from  that  v/hich  they  had  left,  for  His  sake. 
It  was  to  be  a  memorial  of  Him,  and  a  constant  recognition  of  their  faith 
in  the  virtue  of  His  atoning  death — that  death,  whose  shed  blood  was  the 
seal  of  this  New  Covenant  between  the  subjects  of  His  kingdom,  and  God, 
His  Father.  It  symbolized  before  all  ages,  to  the  New  Israel,  the  cardinal 
virtue  of  His  death.  The  Apostles  could  have  had  no  simpler  or  more  un- 
mistakable intimation  that  as  the  blood  of  the  Passover  lamb  redeemed  the 
people  of  God,  of  old,  from  the  sword  of  the  angel  of  wrath.  His  blood 
would  be  a  ransom  for  man  from  far  deadlier  peril.  A  covenant,  to  them, 
implied  a  sacrifice,  and  His  blood,  as  the  New  Covenant,  was  therefore 
sacrificial ;  the  blood  of  a  Covenant  which  pledged  His  followers  to  faith 
and  duty ;  the  blood  of  a  new  paschal  lamb,  with  which  His  disciples 
must,  in  figure,  be  sprinkled,  that  the  destroying  angel  might  pass  over 
them,  in  the  day  of  judgment.  The  custom  of  the  nation  to  use  a  common 
meal  as  the  special  occasion  of  religious  fellowship,  made  the  new  institu- 
tion easy  and  natural  to  the  Apostles,  and  the  constant  employment  of 
symbols  in  their  hereditary  religion  prevented  their  misconceiving  the 
meaning  of  the  one  now  introduced  for  the  first  time.  They  saw  in  it  an 
abiding  memorial  of  their  Lord ;  a  vivid  enforcement  of  their  dependence 
on  the  merits  of  His  death,  as  a  sacrifice  for  their  salvation ;  the  need  of 
intimate  spiritual  communion  with  Him  as  the  bread  of  life,  and  the  bond 
of  the  new  brotherhood  He  had  established.  The  joint  commemoration  of 
His  broken  body  and  shed  blood  was,  henceforth,  to  distinguish  the  asseiu- 
blies  of  His  followers  from  the  world  at  large.  Excepting  baptism,  it  was 
the  one  outward  form  in  the  Society  established  by  their  Master. 


FAEEWELL   TO   FRIENDS.  655 

From  a  rite  thus  simple,  doctrines  have  been  developed  by  theological 
zeal  and  heated  fancy,  which  would  have  alike  startled  and  shocked  those 
who  first  partook  of  it.  It  has  been  forgotten  how  Jesus,  Himself,  in 
answer  to  the  cavil,  "  How  can  He  give  us  His  flesh  to  cat  ?  "  repudiated 
the  literalism  which  caught  at  sound,  and  missed  the  sense.  "  My  flesh — 
my  bodily  persoji,"  said  He,  "profiteth  nothing  towards  procuring  eternal 
life  ;  to  talk  of  eating  it  to  gain  that  life  is  unworthy  trifling ;  it  is  the 
Spirit  who  quickens  the  soul  to  a  new,  immortal,  and  heavenly  existence, 
and  that  Spirit  acts  through  the  words  of  sacred  truth  which  I  speak  to 
you.     Thei/  are  spirit,  and  they  are  life." 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

THE   FAREWELL. 

TERUSALEM  was  the  brightest  and  happiest  of  cities  on  this  Passover 
^  night.  But  though  the  hum  of  universal  rejoicing  rose  on  every  side, 
there  was  only  sadness  in  the  little  band  round  Jesus.  One  of  their  num- 
ber had  proved  a  traitor,  and  their  Leader  had  told  them,  once  more,  that 
He  would  very  soon  leave  them.  They  were  sore  at  heart  from  shame  at 
the  baseness  of  Iscariot,  at  the  dread  of  losing  a  Master  they  passionately 
loved,  and  at  the  utter  miscarriage  of  all  their  half-worldly,  half -religious 
expectations  of  earthly  glory.  Christ  had  instituted  a  rite  to  mark  them 
as  apart  from  all  other  men,  but  it  looked  as  if  there  would  be  little  use 
for  it,  in  the  apparently  near  overthrow  of  His  infant  Kingdom. 

As  they  reclined,  sad  and  silent,  Jesus  read  their  thoughts,  and  began  to 
cheer  them,  by  turning  their  minds  from  the  gloomy  present  to  the  glorious 
future. 

"  Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled  with  care  and  anxiety  in  such  a  way," 
said  He ;  "believe  in  God,  and  in  me.  His  Son,  who  speak  in  His  name, 
and  let  that  faith  lead  you  to  trust  confidently  that  the  promises  made  you 
will  be  fulfilled.  I  have,  indeed,  told  you  that  I  must  go  to  my  Father, 
but  I  have  told  you,  also,  that  I  will  return.  You  have,  assuredly,  nothing 
to  expect  on  earth  exceijt  trial,  but  your  reward  in  the  world  to  come  may 
well  raise  you  above  all  sorrow  on  that  account.  In  heaven,  my  Father's 
house,  are  many  mansions ;  you  need  not  fear  that  everlasting  habitations 
in  glory  will  fail  you.  If  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have  told  you,  for  I  never 
deceive  you.  Nay,  more,  I  am  your  forerunner  thither.  If  I  go  away,  it 
is  to  prepare  a  place  for  you.  I  am  your  friend,  going  home  before  you, 
to  get  all  ready  for  your  glad  reception  when  you  follow  me. 

"  Nor  is  this  all ;  I  will  return  to  fetch  you  to  my  heavenly  home,  that 
where  I  am,  you  may  be  also,  for  ever.  If  you  remember  what  I  have 
said  in  the  past,  you  will  know  not  only  whither  I  am  going,  but,  since  it 
is  I  who  prepare  a  place  for  you  above,  and  I,  and  no  other,  who  will  come 
to  lead  you  thither,  you  must  also  know  the  way." 

He  alluded  to  His  spiritual  return,  at  the  blissful  death  of  His  servants, 
to  guide  them  to  Hhnself,  above,  and  He  had  told  them,  not  long  before, 
that  He  was  the  door  of  the  great  fold,  and  that  if  any  man  entered  by 


6oQ  THE   LIFE    OF   CimiST. 

Him,  he  would  be  saved.     But  this,  like  so  much  else,  had  been  misunder- 
stood and  forgotten. 

A  full  and  satisfying  answer  to  the  question  of  Peter,  lay  in  these  words. 
But  it  was  not  enough  to  calm  the  fears  and  doubts  in  the  minds  of  the 
Apostles.  They  still  clung  fondly  to  their  oartlily  hopes  of  the  Messiah's 
Kingdom,  and  though  they,  perhaps,  realized  the  near  departure  of  their 
Master,  they  had  not,  even  yet,  come  to  comprehend  that  it  meant  His 
death.  Hence  His  figurative  language  remained  so  dai-k  to  them,  that 
Thomas,  constitutionally  given  as  he  was,  to  seek  clearness  and  certainty, 
interrupted  Him  with  a  reverent  freedom, — 

"  Lord,  we  do  not,  as  yet,  know  whither  Thou  art  going,  and  hoAV  can  we 
know  the  way  in  Avhicli  to  follow  Thee.'^  "  The  questioner  wished  to  find 
out  the  way  by  learning  the  goal ;  but  Christ,  in  His  answer,  pointed  him 
to  the  way  as  revealing  all  else. 

"  I  myself,  and  no  other,  am  the  Way,"  said  He,  "  because  no  one  comes 
to  the  Father,  in  His  heavenly  glory,  but  through  me.  I  am  the  true  Way, 
for  I  speak  only  the  truth  given  me  from  above,  to  make  known ;  the  way 
to  life,  for  he  who  believes  in  me  shall  live  by  me,  and  shall  have  ever- 
lasting life,  and  I  shall  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day.  If  ye  have  known 
me — the  Way — ye  will  know  whither  I  am  going— to  my  Father — for, 
since  he  who  sees  the  Son  sees  the  Father  also,  you  know  Him  from  this 
time,  and  have  seen  Him,  in  seeing  me.  I  am  the  Way,  because  no  one 
can  reach  my  Fathei''s  presence  but  through  faith  in  me  as  the  Saviour ; 
the  Truth,  because  I  am  the  self-revelation  of  God ;  the  Light,  come  into 
the  world,  without  following  which  no  one  can  gain  salvation ;  the  Life, 
because  I  am  the  source  and  spring  of  eternal  life,  so  that  he  who  does  not 
receive  me  into  his  heart,  by  faith,  is  already  condemned." 

Philip  had  listened,  but  could  not  understand.  He  could  only  think 
that  Jesus,  in  speaking  of  seeing  the  Father,  alluded  to  some  mysterious 
appearance  of  Jehovah,  for  the  purpose  of  founding  the  earthly  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah.  With  a  childlike  simplicity,  therefore,  he  asked,  turning 
to  Christ — "Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  and  all  our  wishes  will  be  satisfied." 

No  one  who  had  thought  over  the  words,  "  If  ye  have  known  me,  ye  have 
known  my  Father  also,"  and  had  understood  them,  could  have  asked  such 
a  question.  It  marked  an  amazing  want  of  intelligent  appreciation  of  the 
teaching  of  our  Lord,  and  of  His  mode  of  speech.  Hence,  the  answer  of 
Christ  sounds  almost  sad.  *'  Have  I  been  so  long  with  you,  and  do  you 
know  so  little  of  me,  Philip  ?  If  you  really  knew  me,  j'ou  would  not  ask 
me  to  show  you  the  Father.  He  cannot  be  shown  to  the  natural  sight. 
But  he  who  sees  me,  and  rightly  understands  whom  I  am,  knows  the 
Father,  in  thus  knowing  me.  Such  an  one  realizes  that  in  me  the  highest 
possible  revelation  of  God  has  appeared,  and  has  no  wish  to  have  any 
higher,  or  other  outward  and  material  manifestation  of  Him.  You  speak 
as  if  you  did  not  believe  that  I  am  in  the  Father  and  the  Father  in  me, 
and  that  hence,  as  I  said,  he  who  sees  me  sees  the  Father  also.  The  proof 
that  it  is  so,  is  in  my  words,  for  they  are  not  my  own,  but  His.  If  you 
doubt  this,  you  do  not  need  to  believe  merely  because  I  say  so ;  believe  it 
on  the  proof  of  the  works  that  I  do,  for  it  is  not  I  who  do  them,  but  the 


THE    FAREWELL.  657 

» 

Fatlicr.  Put  away  yoni-  gross  earthly  ideas.  What  I  mean  is,  that  the 
Fatlier  is  revealed  by  the  Son,  as  His  image  and  likeness,  but  only  in  a 
spiritual  sense,  to  the  eye  of  faith  and  of  the  soul." 

Jesus  now  turned  to  the  Apostles  at  large,  and  resumed  His  discourse 
at  the  point  He  had  reached,  when,  first,  Thomas,  and  then  Philip,  had 
broken  in  with  their  questions. 

"  I  have  promised  you  eternal  life,"  said  He,  "  if  you  trust  me  and  my 
Father,  Let  me  do  more,  that  you  may  be  cheered  and  supported  in  your 
future  labours  for  my  Kingdom.  I  tell  you,  with  all  solemnitj-,  that  if  you 
have  this  true  faith  in  me,  and  love  towards  me,  you  will  have  the  power 
to  do  just  such  wonderful  works  as  I  have  done,  and  even  greater,  for  I  am 
going  to  my  Father,  to  be  raised  to  all  poAver  in  heaven  and  earth  ;  so  that 
.you  may  feel  sure  that  your  prayers,  as  my  Apostles,  offered  in  my  name 
for  the  advancement  of  my  Kingdom,  will  be  heard  and  answered,  in  all 
their  fulness.  You  will  receive  power  from  above  to  overcome  the  world 
by  your  labours  as  my  Apostles  ;  to  spread  the  Gospel  among  all  nations, 
and  to  triumph  over  all  Jewish  and  Gentile  opposition.  I  mean  this  when 
I  speak  of  your  doing  greater  works  than  my  outward  miracles  on  one 
here  and  one  there.  It  is  I  who  will  give  you  this  power,  for  I  am  in  my 
Father,  and  my  Father  is  in  me,  and  He  works  through  me,  and  I  shall 
give  it  that  my  Father  may  be  glorified  by  my  triumph  ;  for  His  glory  is 
the  great  end  of  my  work,  now  and  hereafter.  So  mighty,  indeed,  will 
be  your  prayers  in  my  name,  as  my  Apostles,  that  I  will  do  not  only  what 
you  ask,  for  the  spread  of  my  Kingdom,  but  I  will  do  it  whenever,  and  as 
often  as  ever,  you  ask  it. 

"  But  if  you  desire  that  so  great  an  honour  should  be  granted  you,  that 
I  should  hear  and  answer  all  your  prayers,  you  must,  above  all  things, 
keep  my  commandments,  for  by  doing  so  you  best  show  your  love  for  me. 

"  I  know  you  feel  sad  at  the  thought  of  losing  my  presence  and  help, 
and  wonder  who  will  stand  by  you  and  aid  you  when  I  am  gone.  Be  not 
afraid.  I  will  not  leave  jon  alone,  but  will  see  that  my  place  be  supplied, 
so  that  you  want  for  nothing.  For  I  will  ask  the  Father,  and  He  will  give 
you  another  Helper  and  Counsellor,  who  will  not  leave  you,  as  I  must  now 
do,  but  will  abide  with  you  for  ever — protecting,  helping,  strengthening 
you,  in  all  your  needs  ;  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  who  imparts  the  Divine  Truth 
to  the  hearts  of  men,  leads  them  to  know  it,  and  quickens  them  to  all 
spiritual  power.  The  unbelieving  world  cannot  receive  Him,  because  they 
have  not  the  inward  sight — the  spiritual  sympathy — to  know  Him,  and 
He  is  not  visible  to  the  outward  sense.  But  they  cannot  comprehend,  and 
will  not  receive,  anything  that  is  not  material  and  apparent  to  the  bodily 
eye.  You,  however,  who  believe  in  me,  will  know  Him,  for  He  will  remain 
with  you,  aiid  will  be  ia  you,  and  your  own  experience  will  make  you  feel 
that  He  is  so. 

"  Nor  is  this  all,  my  dear  ones.  I  will  not  leave  you  like  orphans ;  as  if 
I,  your  spiritual  Father,  had  gone  from  you  for  ever.  Not  only  will  you 
have  the  Spirit  of  Truth  with  you,  but  I,  myself,  will  shortly  return  to 
you.  In  a  very  little  while  longer  the  world  will  see  me  no  more,  but  you 
will  see  me,  though  not  bodily  present.     You  -will  see  me  in  spirit,  and 

TT  u 


658  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

I'oel  that  I  commune  with  you  and  work  in  j^ou,  tlirougli  the  Spirit,  whom 
I  will  send.  I  shall  be  alive,  thoupjh  unseen,  for  I  will  rise  from  the  dead 
and  live  for  evermore,  and  Avill  make  you  partakers  of  my  heavenly  and 
deathless  life.  By  this  higher  spiritual  life  ye  shall  know,  in  that  day, 
when,  by  the  gift  of  my  Spirit,  I  come  to  you  in  power,  that  I  am  in  my 
Father,  and  you  in  me,  and  I  in  you.  When  I  come,  finally,  in  outward 
glory,  at  the  last  day,  as  I  have  told  you  already,  you  will  have  no  mort, 
doubts  or  fears,  as  you  now  have  in  this  time  of  my  lowliness  and  humilia- 
tion. You  will  then  know,  when  you  see  me  descend  in  heavenly  majesty 
— as  you  shall  have  already  felt  when  I  come,  very  soon,  by  the  Spirit  — 
that  my  words  are  true ;  that  I  am  indeed  in  my  Father,  and  you  in  me, 
and  I  in  you ;  that  we  are  for  ever  inseparably  one  with  the  Father,  and 
with  each  other. 

"  But  only  he  who  has  my  commandments  in  his  heart,  and  practises 
them  in  his  life,  truly  loves  me,  and  will  be  loved  by  my  Father  and  by 
me.  To  him  will  I  reveal  my  presence  in  his  soul,  by  the  Spii'it  through 
whom  I  commune  with  him." 

Here  Judas  Thaddeus,  "  the  brave,"  the  sou  of  an  unknown  James,  inter- 
rupted the  discourse  by  a  reverent  question.  With  the  simple  literal  ideas 
of  his  age  and  nation,  he  could  not  understand  what  Jesus  had  said  about 
manifesting  Himself  only  to  individual  believers,  and  not  to  all  men.  He 
still  expected  a  visible  appearance  of  Christ,  in  glory,  as  the  Messiah,  to 
judge  the  unbelieving  world,  and  set  up  His  own  Kingdom.  "What  has 
hajopened.  Lord  ?  "  asked  he,  "  to  make  Thee  determine  to  show  Thyself  as 
the  Messiah  only  to  us,  and  not  to  the  world  at  large  ?     How  comes  it  ?  " 

"  The  reason,"  replied  Jesus,  "  is,  that  the  world,  so  long  as  it  does  not 
believe  in  me  and  love  me,  is  neither  morally  capable  of  receiving  such  a 
manifestation  of  me,  as  I  mean — a  spiritual  communion  with  the  soul — 
nor  worthy  of  it.  Only  believing  aud  faithful  hearts  can  become,  or  desire 
to  become,  the  abode  of  my  Father  or  of  myself,  so  that  We  may  live  in 
that  loving  fellowship  with  them  which  reveals  Us  to  them.  I  do  not 
speak  of  such  an  outward  and  visible  dwelling  with  men  as  when  the 
Divine  gloiy  rested  between  the  cherubim,  or  over  the  Tabernacle ;  but  an 
unseen  abode,  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  the  soul  as  in  a  Temple.  Only  he 
who  loves  me,  and,  loving  me,  keeps  my  commandments,  can  have  this 
honour  and  blessedness.  Such  an  one  my  Father  as  well  as  I  will  love, 
and  wo  will  come  to  him  and  make  our  abode  with  him.  He  who  does  not 
love  me  will  not  keep  my  commandments.  I  call  my  commandments  mine, 
but,  in  reality,  they  ai'e  those  of  my  Father  who  sent  me.  With  such  an  one, 
tlierefoi'e,  as  rejects  God's  words  and  does  not  obey  them,  the  Father  and  I 
cannot  make  our  abode,  and  thus  I  cannot  manifest  myself  in  this  spiritual 
way,  of  which  alone  I  speak  at  this  moment,  except  to  individual  souls." 

There  was  now  a  short  pause ;  but,  after  a  time,  Jesiis  began  again. 
Glancing  back  at  all  He  had  said  to  them  during  the  evening,  and  knowing 
that  much  of  it  must  be  dark  and  enigmatical  to  their  simple  minds,  He 
lovingly  cheered  them  by  some  further  kind  words. 

"  I  have  said  these  things  to  you  while  I  am  still  with  you,  but  I  know 
that  you  hardly  understand  some  of  my  sayings,  and  that  you  will  neccs  - 


THE   FAREWELL.  659 

sarily  forget  others.  The  Holy  Spirit,  whom  the  Father  will  scud  iu  my 
name,  at  my  request,  to  be  your  heavenly  Friend  and  Helper,  Avill,  how- 
ever, throw  light  on  every  point,  and  bring  to  your  vivid  remembrance  all 
that  I  have  noAV  told  you ;  giving  you  a  fuller  and  wider  understanding 
of  the  truths  I  have  only  briefly  opened. 

"  Fear  not,  my  beloved  ones,  all  will  be  well  with  you,"  added  He,  for 
they  were  sorely  troubled.  "You  know  how  you  wish  your  friends, 
'  Peace '  when  you  part  from  them.  My  farewell  greeting  is  '  Peace  be 
with  you'— the  peace  of  reconciliation  to  God,  and  o£  eternal  salvation  in 
my  Kingdom,  which  I  have  gained  for  you  as  your  Saviour.  My  peace, 
coming  from  me  and  hj  me,  I  leave  you ;  for  it  v/ill  be  won  for  you,  as  an 
vmdying  gift,  by  my  death,  now  so  near.  This  gift,  my  peace,  is  of  a 
wholly  different  kind  from  that  which  men  wish  each  other  in  their  fai^e- 
wells — mere  earthly  joy  and  pi-osperity,  which  leave  the  soul  unblessed. 
My  peace  carries  with  it  lasting  good  and  true  unfading  happiness,  for  it 
is  that  of  the  soul. 

"  As  I  began,  therefore,  I  shall  end :  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled, 
neither  let  it  be  afraid,  now  or  hereafter.  Why  should  it  be  either  ?  In- 
stead of  sadness  you  ought  to  feel  joy,  for  I  have  told  you  that,  though  I 
go  away  now,  I  shall  come  to  you  again.  Indeed,  if  you  love  me,  as  I  know 
you  do,  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  me  say  that  I  am  going  back  to  my  Father; 
for  here  my  Father  has  used  my  human  weakness  to  speak  His  words  and 
do  His  works,  for  the  salvation  of  man.  The  mortal  nature  I  now  wear 
has  been  His  feeble  and  indirect  instrument.  But  when  I  return  to  Him. 
my  Kingdom  will  be  under  His  direct  power.  My  work,  thenceforth,  will 
rest  alone  and  directly  in  His  hand,  and  He  will  complete  by  His  mighty 
power,  through  His  Spirit,  what  I  have  begun  on  earth;  without  human 
limitation,  such  as  has  been  inevitable  while  He  wrought  through  me  as 
the  Son  of  man,  a  man  like  yourselves.  He,  working  with  His  Almighty 
power,  directly,  through  His  Spirit,  is  greater,  as  a  help  to  my  Kingdom, 
than  I  can  be  while  I  act  for  Him  through  this  dying  bod3^ 

"  I  have  told  you  now,  while  I  am  still  with  you,  that  I  shall  presently 
leave  you,  to  prevent  your  faith  from  being  shaken  when  I  am  gone.  The 
hour  of  my  departure  approaches ;  I  shall  not  speak  much  with  j^ou  after 
this.  For  the  Prince  of  this  World — the  evil  one — is  already  coming 
against  me.  But  fear  not,  he  has  no  power  over  me.  There  is  nothing  in 
my  soul  which  he  can  assail ;  no  sin  by  whicli  ho  can  claim  me  as  his.  Nor 
do  I  need  to  yield  to  him  iu  anything,  for  I  could,  if  I  chose,  avoid  the  death 
with  which  he  threatens  me.  But,  that  the  world  may  know  my  love  to 
the  Father,  and  that  I  do  what  He  has  appointed  for  me  as  His  will,  though 
it  Ijc  to  die,  let  us  rise  from  the  tabic,  and  go  forth  to  meet  the  powers 
of  darkness,  befoi'e  whom,  according  to  the  counsels  of  God,  I  shall  fall." 

The  whole  company  hereupon  rose  and  prepared  to  leave  the  room.  But 
Jesus,  full  of  thoughts  which  He  longed,  even  yet,  to  utter,  before  His 
ever  nearer  se])aration,  stood,  as  it  were,  fixed  to  the  spot  by  His  love  to 
them,  and  ouce  more  began  to  speak.  He  could  not  bring  Himself  to 
break  up  this  last  communion  He  should  have  with  them. 

He  began  by  the  well-known  and  l)eautiful  comparison  of  Himself  and 


G60  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

the  Apostles  to  a  vine  and  its  branches.  Perhaps  the  thought  rose  from 
the  sight  of  the  wine-cup  on  the  tahle  and  its  recent  use  at  the  evening's 
feast,  or  perhaps  the  house  stood  amidst  vines,  and  branches  may  h<ave 
been  trained  round  the  window,  or  the  vineyard  itself  may  have  lain  below 
in  the  bright  moonlight. 

"  This  vine  with  its  branches  and  fruit,"  said  Ho,  pointing  to  the  wine- 
cup,  or  to  the  vines  outside,  "is  a  type,  in  its  earthly  and  visible  way,  of 
a  heavenly  and  Divine  truth.  I  am  the  true  vine,  ye  are  the  branches,  and 
my  Father  is  the  husbandman.  He  sent  me  into  the  world ;  He  has  given 
me  such  faithful  souls  as  you,  and  joined  3'ou  Avith  nie,  in  living  fellow- 
ship and  communion ;  He  has  tended  the  growth  of  tlie  truth  in  the  past, 
for  it  is  He  who  has  been  working  through  me,  and  He  will  continue  to  do 
so  by  His  Holy  Spirit  after  I  leave  you. 

"As  in  the  natural  vine  there  are  fruitful  and  unfruitful  branches,  so, 
in  my  fellowship,  there  are  some  who  bear  fruit  both  in  word  and  in  act, 
and  some  who  do  not.  Only  those  who  are  pure  and  sincere — those  who 
truly  love  me  and  keep  my  commands — have  the  abiding  communion  with 
me  from  which  such  fruit-fulness  springs  ;  for,  as  the  careful  husbandman 
cuts  off  the  unfruitful  branch,  and  cleans  away  with  his  ^Jrnning-knifc  all 
that  would  hinder  the  full  fruitfulness  of  the  good  one,  so  does  my  Father 
with  my  disciples. 

"  But  be  ye  comforted.  You  have  been  pruned  and  made  clean  by  your 
loving  and  obedient  recej^tion  of  the  truths  I  have  told  you,  and  by  the 
discipline  through  which  you  have  passed.  Dismiss  anxious  care  !  You 
will  not  be  cut  off  as  unfruitful  branches.  My  Father  will  make  you  still 
more  fruitful ;  will  cleanse  away  all  that  hinders  your  progress  in  grace, 
and  will  perfect  you  in  the  end.  Bnt,  to  secure  this  growing  fruitfulness, 
3'OU  must  cherish  fondly  your  communion  with  me ;  grafted  into  me,  as  the 
branches  into  the  stem  of  the  vine.  If  j'ou  do  so,  I  will  not  separate  myself 
from  you,  any  more  than  the  vine  tears  itself  from  its  branches,  but  will 
strengthen  you  by  my  spiritual  aid.  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself 
if  it  do  not  abide  in  the  vine,  you  cannot  bring  forth  good  fruit  except  ye  abide 
in  me.  I  am  the  vine,  ye  are  the  branches ;  the  living  power  to  bear  fruit 
comes  only  from  me.  But  if  you  abide  in  me,  you  will  bear  much  fruit. 
All  true  work  as  my  disciples— all'  spiritual  life — comes  only  from  fellow- 
ship with  me,  fellowship,  each  in  the  other,  close  as  that  of  the  vine  and  its 
branches  ;  for  apart  from  me  ye  can  do  nothing.  As  unfruitful  branches 
are  cut  off  by  the  husbandman,  and  cast  out  of  the  vineyard  and  left  to 
dry  up,  and  then  gathered  and  cast  into  the  fire  and  burned,  so,  those  who 
break  away  from  living  union  with  me  will  be  cut  off  from  me  here,  by  my 
Father;  and  hence  the  religious  life  will  wither  up  in  them  while  they  live, 
and  at  the  last  day  they  will  suffer  the  judgment  of  God.  But  if  ye  abide 
in  loving,  spiritual  union  with  me,  and  hold  fast  my  commandments  and 
keep  them,  you  may  ask  what  you  will,  and  it  will  be  done  to  you,  for  yon 
will  then  ask  in  my  name  only  such  things  as  are  in  keeping  with  my  will. 
And  it  is  a  great  motive  for  your  abiding  in  me,  that  your  doing  so  glori- 
fies my  Father  by  leading  to  your  bearing  much  fruit,  through  my  answers 
to  your  prayers.     You  will  farther,  by  this  fulfilment  of  your  prayers. 


THE   FAREWELL.  661 

become  truly,  and  in  the  strict  sense,  my  disciples,  for  such  spiritual  fruit- 
fulness  is  the  special  mark  of  my  true  disciples  only. 

"  That  you  may  thus  continue  in  living  fellowship  and  spiritual  union 
with  me,  let  me  remind  you  that  the  uniting  bond  of  this  fellowship  be- 
tween me,  my  Father,  and  you,  is  love  ;  and  that,  on  your  side,  all  depends 
on  your  showing  yourselves  true  and  obedient,  in  this  love  to  me  and  in  the 
practice  of  my  commands,  as  I  have  shown  and  still  show  myself  towards 
my  Father  and  His  commands.  As  He  has  loved  me,  I  have  loved  you  ; 
see  that  ye  continue  henceforth  to  love  and  obey  me,  that  I  may  still  for 
ever  be  able  to  love  you.  I  have  spoken  thus,  that  the  same  joy  which  I 
have  in  knowing  that  I  abide  in  my  Father's  love,  may  be  felt  by  you,  from 
your  knowing  that  you  abide  in  my  love,  and  that  this  holy  joy  of  soul  may 
increase,  more  and  more,  to  a  heavenly  fulness." 

The  sound  of  the  word  "love,"  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  Christ,  led  Him 
back  to  the  new  commandment  He  had  given  a  few  minutes  before.  That 
His  disciples  should  love  one  another  was  the  true  secret  of  keeping  His 
commandments,  and  so  of  retaining  their  place  in  His  heart,  and  securing 
the  holy  joy  of  soul  He  desired  for  them.  He  now  defined  His  requirements 
more  narrowly.  They  were  to  love  each  other  as  He  had  loved  them,  and 
that  meant.  He  told  them,  self-sacrifice,  even  to  death,  for  their  sakes. 

"  You  wish,  I  am  sure,"  said  He,  "  to  retain  my  love  after  I  leave  you, 
and  will  strive  to  keep  my  commandments  that  you  may  do  so.  These 
commandments  are  summed  up  in  the  one  which  I  gave  you  to-night, 
already,  that  ye  love  one  another.  I  only  add,  that  that  love  must  be  such 
as  I  have  shown  and  will  presently  show  to  you ;  love  so  great,  that,  in 
furtherance  of  the  Divine  purpose  for  your  salvation,  I  willingly  lay  down 
my  life  for  yoii.  There  can  be  none  greater  between  man  and  man,  and 
this  highest  example — this  joyful  sacrifice  of  life  itself  for  each  other- 
must  be  your  standard.  Nothing  less  is  the  ideal  I  require  in  my  Xew 
Society.  Only  the  spirit  which  would  not  shrink  from  this,  makes  true  and 
full  obedience  to  my  command  possible,  with  all  the  blessings  it  brings. 

"  If  you  thus  rise  to  a  love  like  mine,  you  will  bind  me  to  you  in  closest 
undying  affection ;  affection  not  as  from  master  to  servant,  or  teacher  to 
disciple,  but  as  of  friend  to  friend.  If,  by  having  this  love,  you  do  the 
things  I  command  you,  I  shall  call  you  my  friends,  my  loved  and  trusted 
ones ;  for  doing  is  the  only  proof  I  accept  of  loving.  I  know,  indeed,  that 
you  will,  and  therefore,  henceforth,  I  call  you  no  longer  mere  servants,  as 
in  the  past,  but  trusted  friends.  For  the  servant  obej's  vvithout  knowing 
his  lord's  thoughts  and  plans,  but  you  have  been  told  all  I  have  heard  from 
my  Father,  so  far  as  you  are  able  to  hear  and  understand  it ;  told  it,  not  as 
mere  servants  and  messengers;  the  blind  instruments  of  my  will,  but  in  the 
fulness  of  loving  confidence,  as  sharers  of  my  inmost  thoughts  and  heart. 

'■  But  great  though  the  honour  be  I  thus  give  you,  never  forget  that  5-ou 
have  not,  like  the  disciples  of  the  Rabbis,  with  him  whom  they  follow, 
chosen  me  for  your  teacher,  master,  and  friend.  On  the  contrary,  I  chose 
you,  not  for  mere  idle  friendship,  but  that  I  might  appoint  you  to  go  foi'th 
as  my  disciples,  and  work  in  spreading  my  Kingdom,  and  bear  fruit  in 
V,  inning  men  to  the  truth ;  fruit  that  would  remain  for  ever,  both  for  your- 


\ 


G62  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

selves  and  for  tliosc  you  led  to  the  light.  Tims  you  owe  fill  to  me ;  your 
first  disciplcsliip,  no  less  than  the  friendship  to  which  I  have  now  advanced 
you ;  and  also  that  amazing  honour  I  have  promised  you,  that  so  long  as 
you  keep  my  commands,  the  Father  will  give  you  whatever  you  ask  in  my 
name.  How  much  fruit  may  ye  not  bear  with  this  heavenly  help,  and  how 
great  the  reward  before  God  when  ye  have  borne  it ! 

"  Once  more,  never  forget  that  v.dthout  true  brotherly  love  all  your 
labour'is  valueless,  for  the  spirit  that  prompts  your  acts  or  words  alone 
gives  them  worth. 

"  Wonder  not  that  I  enforce  this  call  to  mutual  love.  Let  it  reign  with- 
in my  New  Society,  for,  outside,  you  will  have  only  hatred.  But  let  me 
comfort  you  by  the  thought  that,  as  you  know,  it  has  hated  me  first.  To 
be  hated  by  it,  is  only  to  share  my  lot.  And  let  it  still  more  console  you, 
to  remember  that  this  very  hatred  by  the  unbelieving  world,  is  a  proof  that 
you  no  longer  belong  to  it.  If  you  belonged  to  it,  it  would  love  its  own, 
for  like  loves  like.  It  hates  you,  because  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  it,  and 
made  j-ou  mine.  To  be  hated  of  the  ungodly  is  a  testimony  to  your  worth, 
as  to  be  loved  by  them  would  be  to  your  discredit.  How  ought  this  to 
cheer  you  in  all  your  future  trials  ! 

"  Eemember  what  I  said  to  you  to-night,  already,  '  A  servant  is  not 
greater  than  his  lord.'  If  they  have  persecuted  me,  as  you  know  they  havei 
they  will  also  persecute  you ;  if  they  have  received  my  teaching,  as  you 
know  they  have  not,  they  will  receive  yours  as  little.  They  will  hate  you 
and  persecute  you,  because  you  come  in  my  name,  confessing  me  as  the 
Messiah  and  Saviour — for  they  know  not  Him  who  sent  me. 

"  This  hatred  of  my  name  has  no  excuse,  for  I  have  dwelt  among  men, 
and  taught  them  the  truth,  and  have  done  works  among  them  which  no 
other  prophet  or  messenger  of  God  has  done;  works  which  should  have 
made  them  feel  that  God  had  sent  me,  for  they  were  such  as  Israel  itself 
had  agreed  to  accept  as  proof  of  the  presence  of  the  Messiah,  and  they 
showed  that  my  teaching  was  His  Divine  word  to  them.  But  though  they 
have  both  heard  my  teaching,  and  seen  my  mighty  works,  they  have  not 
believed.  They  have,  thus,  I  repeat,  no  excuse.  Nor  is  their  hatred  of  my 
name,  hatred  of  me  alone ;  it  is  hatred  of  God,  my  Father,  no  less  ;  for  my 
word  and  works,  which  they  hate  and  reject,  are  not  mine,  but  His.  And 
as  these  words  and  works  are  thus  the  self -revelation  of  my  Father — as  He 
thus,  by  them,  had  made  Himself  visible  in  me,  so  far  as  the  invisible  God 
can  do  so— their  hatred  of  me  involves  the  awful  wickedness  of  a  hatred 
of  the  Eternal  Father.  Yet  this  hatred  of  me  by  the  unbelieving  world  is 
not  a  mere  accident  or  chance,  but  was  foreseen  by  God  and  spoken  of  in 
ancient  prophecy,  as  you  read :  '  They  hated  me  without  a  cause.' 

"  You  may,  however,  say  in  your  hearts, '  If  they  have  persecuted  Thee, 
and  have  not  kept  Thy  word;  if,  after  having  been  taught,  and  having  seen 
such  things,  they  would  not  receive  them ;  if  they  have  hated  Thee,  and 
Thy  Father,  and  if  we  are  to  find  the  same  treatment,  what  good  is  there 
in  sending  us  to  them  ?  '  Let  me  encourage  you,  and  dissipate  such 
thoughts.  For  when  the  Helper  comes,  whom  I  shall  send  unto  you  from 
the  Father— the   Spirit  of  Truth,  who  goes  forth  from  the  Father,  and 


THE    FAREWELL.  663 

therefore  is  able  to  help  yoii  in  all  your  needs — He  will  bear  witiiebs  of  me 
in  your  souls ;  teaching  you  more  deeply  concerning  mc,  and  glorifying 
me  to  you  in  doing  so,  that  you  may  be  able  to  make  right  and  effective 
use,  in  your  witness  before  men,  of  all  you  have  seen  and  heard  while  with 
me,  from  the  beginning  of  my  public  work  as  the  Messiah. 

"  I  have  told  you  these  things  about  the  hatred  the  world  will  show  you 
for  my  sake,  that  you  may  bo  prepared  for  it,  and  not  stumble,  or  be  of- 
fended on  account  of  it ;  but  may  meet  it  with  so  much  the  more  earnest 
zeal  and  fidelity.  As  I  have  often  said,  they  will  put  you  out  of  the  sjma- 
gogucs ;  but  this,  hard  though  it  be  in  its  consequences,  is  not  the  worst 
their  fanatical  hatred  will  do.  Yon  know  how  the  Rabbis  teach,  that  'he 
who  sheds  the  blood  of  the  wicked  is  as  if  he  offered  sacrifice.'  They  will 
act  on  this  jDriirciple  towards  you ;  for  the  hour  comes  when  every  one  who 
kills  you  will  think  your  l:)lood  is  an  acceptable  sacrifice  offered  to  God. 
Nor  will  the  heathen  treat  you  better.  Israel  knows  neither  the  Father 
nor  me  ;  and  this  wilful  ignorance  of  Divine  things  makes  them  act  thus. 
I  tell  you  all  this,  that,  when  these  times  of  persecution  come,  you  may  be 
strengthened  in  your  faith  in  me,  and  in  your  patient  endurance  of  suffer- 
ing for  my  sake.  I  did  not  speak  of  these  things  till  now,  because  they 
were  still  distant  when  you  first  followed  me,  and  because  they  might  then 
have  frightened  you  awa.y  from  me.  Besides,  as  long  as  I  live,  the  hatred 
of  men  Avill  be  directed  against  me,  not  against  you." 

It  is  hard  for  even  the  best  to  rise  superior  to  what  is  present  or  near, 
by  thinking  of  the  distant  or  future.  The  Eleven  were  thoroughly  cast 
down  and  dispirited,  and  stood  silent,  unable  to  break  the  stillness,  even  by 
a  few  of  those  questions  which  the  disciples  of  Jewish  teachers  were  in  the 
habit  of  putting  to  their  masters.  The  loitj  promises  of  Jesus  would  one 
day  strengthen  their  faithful  souls ;  but,  for  the  time,  they  had  no  ear  for 
them.     As  He  spoke,  He  saw  this,  and  gently  reproved  it. 

"  Now  that  I  am  on  the  point  of  returning  to  my  Father,"  said  He, "  why 
are  you  so  wholly  engrossed  in  sadness,  that  while  friends  are  always  wont 
to  ask  often  from  one  about  to  leave  them,  '  Avhere  he  is  going,'  j-ou  have 
not  been  eager  to  do  so  in  my  case  ?  "  He  wished  them  to  inquire  more 
closely  about  His  going  away,  for  it  seemed  as  if  His  disciples  had  not 
fully  understood  His  previous  words,  else  they  could  not  be  so  dejected. 

"  You  forget  the  consolation  I  have  given  you,  and  dwell  only  on  my 
near  leaving,  and  the  troubles  to  come  after  it.  But  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
when  I  say  that  it  is  better  for  you  that  I  go  away.  For  if  I  were  not  to 
do  so,  your  great  Helper  would  not  come  to  you ;  but,  if  I  go  away,  I  will 
send  Him  to  you." 

The  history  of  the  Church,  after  the  ascension  of  Jesus  and  the  effusion 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  explains  and  confirms  these  words.  Only  the  once 
Crucified  but  now  Eisen  One,  the  glorified  Son  of  God,  sitting  at  the  right 
hand  of  the  Father,  could  have  been  proclaimed  by  the  Apostles  as  the  Lord 
of  a  new,  eternal,  and  si)iritual  kingdom  of  heaven.  Only  the  Conqueror 
of  Death,  the  Son  of  God,  who  had  returned  triumphant  to  the  glory  of  the 
Father,  could  have  been  announced  to  the  world  as  the  Righteous  One,  the 
Victor  over  the  Prince  of  this  World,  as  He  not  to  believe  in  wiiom  was  sin, 


664  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Jesus  continued :  "  You  will  have  to  strive,  even  to  blood,  with  the  oppo- 
sition of  the  unbelieving  world,  and  their  evil  opinion  of  me  ;  against  their 
illusion  that  they  are  doing  right  in  their  unbelief  and  in  their  persecution 
of  my  servants  ;  and  against  their  trust  in  the  invincible  power  of  wicked 
men,  and  of  the  prince  of  darkness.     All  these  you  must  resist  and  over- 
come.   But  human  eloquence  is  far  too  weak  for  this  great  task.    Without 
assistance  and  help  from  above,  you  will  never  be  aljle  to  convince  men 
of  their  sin  and  error,  or  to  drive  out  the  reign  of  evil.     But  when  your 
Heavenly  Helper  has  come.  He  will,  through  you,  show  the  world  their  sin 
in  not  believing  in  me,  and  in  persecuting  you,  my  servants.     He  will  also 
convince  them  of  my  righteousness— that  is,  that  I  am  not  unrighteous 
and  sinful,  as  they  suppose,  but  that  my  righteousness  and  innocence  have 
been  shown  by  my  not  shrinking  even  from  the  death  of  the  Cross  in  the 
fulfilment  of  my  great  work ;  by  my  rising  from  the  grave,  and  thereby 
proving  that  my  death  was  a  voluntary  act  of  love  to  man,  and  by  my  re- 
turning to  my  Father,  Avhich  will  show  that  I  am  His  Son,  sent  by  Him  as 
the  Messiah.     Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  my  cause  is  righteous,  and  that  I 
am  the  righteous  and  holy  One  of  God.     He  will,  finally,  convince  men  of 
the  utter  weakness  of  all  the  jjowers  of  evil,  and  of  their  having  been 
judged  and  condemned  of  God,  by  revealing  to  them  the  complete  overthrow 
of  the  reign  of  the  devil  and  of  the  works   of  darkness,  by  my  life,  my 
teaching,  my  death,  my  resurrection,  my  return  to  my  Father,  and  my  vic- 
torious help  to  you  my  servants." 

He  had  touched  the  confines  of  great  and  mysterious  truths  in  the  future 
economy  of  His  kingdom,  but  felt  Himself  hindered  from  going  further. 
A  wide  field  of  higher  teaching  lay  before  Him,  but  their  present  weakness 
and  incapacity  to  understand  lofty  spiritual  things,  forced  Him  to  break 
off  further  revelations.  "  I  have  yet  many  things,"  He  continued,  "to  say 
to  you,  but  you  cannot  hear  them  now.  Tet  be  not  cast  down.  When 
your  Helper,  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  comes  from  above.  He  will  give  j^ou  fuller 
instructions,  and  will  strengthen  your  minds  to  understand  them.  He  will 
lead  you  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  in  its  whole  extent,  and  will  illu- 
minate for  you  all  the  heights  and  depths  of  my  meaning  in  all  that  I  have 
said  to  you.  ISTor  need  you  fear  to  trust  Him  as  fully  as  you  have  trusted 
me;  for  just  as  I  have  not  spoken  of  myself,  but  have  only  repeated  what 
I  have  heard  from  my  father,  He,  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  will  not  speak  for 
HiiBself  or  of  His  own  promptings,  but  will  utter  only  what  He  has  heard 
from  God.  ISTor  will  He  simply  explain  my  words,  and  reveal  higher  aspects 
of  the  truth.  He  will  also  announce  to  you  things  future.  He  will  give  you, 
my  Apostles,  the  gift  of  prophecy,  by  which  the  future  development  of  my 
Kingdom  will  be  revealed  to  you,  to  fill  you  with  comfort  and  triumph. 

"  You  must  not  think,  however,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  will  teach  you  any 
new  or  different  truths,  not  connected  with  me,  your  Saviour.  He  will  only 
purify  and  enlighten  your  hitherto  imperfect  conceptions  concerning  me, 
and,  while  thus  fitting  you  to  spread  my  kingdom,  will  but  develop,  expand, 
and  complete  what  I  have  taught  you,  and  thus  increase  my  glory.  All 
that  the  Father  has  is  mine,  as  the  Son  consecrated  and  sent  forth  by  Him 
to  carry  out  His  work  -the  Son,  in  whom  the  Father,  for  this  end,  dwells 


THE    FAREWELL.  665 

and  works  in  closest  commnnioii ;  He  also  dwelling  in  like  commnnion  with 
the  Father.  Therefore,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  Avill  teach  yon  only  what  He 
hears  from  the  Father,  He  can  teach  yon  no  other  doctrine  than  mine." 

But  all  the  instruction  and  comfort  Jcsns  could  administer;  all  the 
warnings,  on  the  one  hand,  of  the  diflicultics  and  sufferings,  and  all  the 
suj^ports  on  the  other,  in  rich  promises  of  power,  help,  and  blessing  from 
above,  could  not  dispel  the  sadness  of  the  Apostles,  or  bring  them  joy  and 
coui*age.  The  near  departure  of  their  loved  Master  filled  their  minds  with 
abiding  dejection  and  anxious  fear. 

In  tender  sympathy,  therefore,  Jesus  once  more  sought  to  cheer  them. 
"  I  said,  indeed,"  He  went  on,  "  that  very  soon  you  would  see  me  no  longer, 
but  j^et,  a  little  while  more,  and  yon  ^vill  see  me  again." 

The  Apostles  were  more  than  ever  perplexed  by  these  words.  They 
tliought  only  of  an  earthly  communion  with  their  Master,  such  as  they  still 
enjoyed,  and  could  not  understand  the  sudden  change  of  not  seeing  Him, 
and  seeing  Him  again,  or  the  double  use  of  the  words,  "  A  little  while,"  or 
what  He  meant  by  saying  so  often  that  He  Avas  going  to  the  Father. 
Wondering  questions  followed  between  them,  and  they  were  anxious  to  ask 
an  exjilanation,  when  Jesus,  seeing  their  perplexity,  anticipated  their  wish. 

"  Do  you  inquire  among  yourselves,"  said  He,  "what  I  mean  by  saying, 
'  A  little  while,  and  ye  will  not  see  me  :  and,  again,  a  little  while,  and  ye 
will  see  me  ; '  and  '  I  am  going  to  the  Father  '  ?  Ye  shall,  indeed,  be  in 
great  trouble  at  my  death,  for  I  am  presently  to  die,  though  you  seem  as 
if  you  could  not  credit  it.  Indeed,  ye  will  be  sad,  when  the  world  that 
rejects  me  will  rejoice.  But  your  sorrow  will  be  turned  into  joy,  as  sudden 
as  that  of  the  mother  when  she  bears  a  son,  and  forthwith  forgets  the  past 
for  gladness  that  a  man  is  born  into  the  world ;  for  you  know  that  no  joy 
is  so  great  to  a  woman,  in  our  nation,  as  that  of  having  a  son.  So  you 
will,  indeed,  have  sorrow  now  at  my  death,  but  it  will  pass  into  abiding 
joy,  when  you  see  me  again  in  my  spiritual  return. 

"  In  that  day  the  Spirit  of  Truth  will  have  given  you  such  a  full  and 
satisfjnng  knowledge  of  all  that  concerns  me  and  my  Kingdom,  that  you 
will  have  no  need,  as  now,  to  ask  me  respecting  any  words  or  matters  you 
do  not  understand.  You  will  no  longer  miss  my  earthly  presence,  but  be 
joyful  in  the  possession  of  full  enlightenment.  For  most  truly  do  I  assure 
you,  that  all  you  ask  my  Father  in  my  name— all  illumination,  all  gifts  and 
joys  of  the  Spirit— He  will  give  you.  Hitherto,  from  want  of  insight  and 
experience,  you  have  asked  nothing  in  my  name,  and  therefore  have,  as  yet, 
no  dream  of  the  boundless  gifts  your  Father  in  Heaven  is  ready  to  give 
you,  or  of  the  fulness  of  His  comforting  and  supporting  grace.  Hence- 
forth, ask  in  my  name  and  you  will  receive  what  you  ask,  that  your  joy 
may  be  complete. 

"  I  have  spoken  in  figures,  and  darkly,  of  my  going  away,  and  of  your 
seeing  me  again,  and  of  what  would  flow  from  it.  But  a  time  comes  when 
I  will  no  more  speak  to  you  in  this  way,  but  will  instruct  you  clearly  and 
plainly,  through  the  Spirit,  respecting  the  Father.  In  that  day  ye  shall 
ask  in  my  name,  because  you  will  then  be  enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of 
Truth,  and  you  will  not  need  that  I  intercede  for  you  that  your  prayers. 


CG6  THE  LirE  or  ciiiust. 

tliua  offered,  may  bo  beard ;  for  tbe  Fatbcr  Himself  loves  yon  bceausc  yon 
bavo  loved  me,  and  bavc  believed  tliat  I  came  forth  from  Him,  and  He  will 
therefore  hear  yon  without  any  intercession.  Nor  must  you  ever  forget 
this  great  truth — the  sum  of  my  life  and  work — that  I  came  forth  from 
the  Father  to  appear  in  the  world,  and  now  leave  the  world  to  go  back  to 
Him  ao;ain." 

The  discipleSj  listening  to  these  words,  fancied  they  now  understood,  in 
part  at  least,  what  had  before  seemed  so  dark.  They  had  at  least  realized, 
from  His  last  sentence,  that  as  He  had  come  forth  from  God,  and  was  aljout 
to  return  to  Him,  He  must  be  going  to  heaven.  Perhaps  they  thought,  in 
their  simple  way,  that  they  also  understood  better  what  He  had  said  about 
their  seeing  Him  again.  It  seemed  as  if  He  had,  already,  fulfilled  His 
promise  to  them  to  speak  clearly  and  without  metaphor.  That  He  should, 
moreover,  have  knoAvn  the  still  unuttercd  questions  they  had  in  their 
hearts,  so  astonished  them,  that  they  felt  sure  He  was  omniscient,  and  did 
not  need  any  one  to  ask  Him,  but  could  interpret  their  thoughts  without 
having  been  told  them.  Awed  and  vividly  impressed,  they  had  a  fresh 
corroboration  of  their  belief  in  Him,  as  having  come  forth  from  God,  and 
hastened  to  tell  Him  their  strengthened  conviction. 

"Is  it  so,  that  you  are  now  sure  you  believe  in  me?"  asked  Jesus. 
"  An  hour  is  coming,  and  indeed  has  come,  when  your  faith  will  have  a 
hard  test.  Will  you  stand  firm  ?  Alas  !  how  soon  will  you  waver  ;  for  in 
that  hour  you  will  be  scattered,  each  to  his  own  home,  and  leave  me  alone  ! 
Yet,"  added  He,  after  a  pause,  in  calm  and  clear  assurance  that,  though 
forsaken  of  man,  He  would  have  the  helping  and  protecting  presence  of 
the  Father,  "  yet  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me." 

"  I  have  sj)okeu  as  I  have,"  He  continued ;  "  have  given  you  these  con- 
solations and  promises,  that  you  might  have  rest  and  peace  in  me,  by  com- 
munion with  me  as  the  loving  and  loved.  In  the  world,  indeed,  affliction 
is  your  lot,  for  men  will  hate  and  persecute  you,  as  I  have  said,  for  my 
sake ;  but  be  of  good  heart,  I  have  conquered  and  broken  the  might  of  the 
world  and  its  prince,  and  they  can  neither  hinder  your  salvation,  nor 
check  the  triumph  of  my  Kingdom." 

The  farewell  discourse  was  ended  with  this  note  of  triumph,  "  I  have 
conquered  the  world !  "  But  now,  before  He  went  forth  into  the  night,  so 
big  with  fate,  He  could  not  break  up  for  ever  the  communion  He  had  had 
with  them  so  long,  through  joy  and  sorrow,  without  gathering  them  round 
Him  in  a  parting  prayer.  He  was  about  to  die  for  the  redemption  of  the 
world,  and,  as  the  Great  High  Priest  of  humanity,  would  make  interces- 
sion, before  yielding  Himself  up  to  sacrifice.  I  venture,  reverently,  to 
amplify  the  expression,  that  the  import  may  be  more  easily  caught. 

Lifting  up  His  eyes  to  heaven — the  Apostles  standing,  as  the  manner  of 
their  nation  was,  while  He  prayed— He  began,  "Father,  the  hour  of  my 
death  has  now  come.  Glorify  Thy  Son  on  the  completion  of  the  work  of 
salvation,  that  Thy  Son  may  glorify  Thee  as  its  author,  before  man. 
Glorify  Him,  in  accordance  with  Thy  will,  by  which  Thou  hast  given  Him 
power  over  all  men ;  for  Thou  hast  appointed  Him  the  only  Saviour  and 
■Redeemer,  to  carry  out  Thy  gracious  purpose  of  salvation  towards   the 


THE    FAREWELL.  667 

world;  that  He  should  give  eternal  life  to  all  whom  Thou  hast  givcu  Him. 
And  this  is  everlasting  life,  that  they  should  know  Thee,  the  only  true  God, 
and  Him  whom  Thou  hast  sent — me,  Jesus,  the  Messiah.  I  have  glorified 
Thee  on  earth,  for  I  have  made  known  Thy  name.  Thy  v/ill,  and  Thy  plan 
of  salvation  for  man,  and  have  thus  completed  the  work  Thou  hast  given 
me  to  do.  Therefore,  glorify  me  now,  0  Father,  when  I  rise  from  my  work 
on  earth  into  Thy  presence  in  heaven,  with  the  glory  which  I  had  with  Thee 
before  the  world  was.  Let  me  enter  again  into  that  Divine  communion  in 
Thine  uncreated  glory,  which  I  had  before  the  creation  of  the  world !  " 

He  had,  till  now,  prayed  for  Himself.  He  passed  next  to  intercession 
for  His  discijiles,  urging  His  faithful  obedience  to  His  Divine  mission,  as 
a  ground  for  His  being  heard. 

"  I  have  made  known  Thy  name  xinto  the  men  whom  Thou  hast  given 
jne  out  of  the  unbelieving  world.  They  were  Thine  own,  for  they  were  of 
Thy  true  Israel,  and  Thou  gavest  them  to  me,  and  faithfully  and  tridy  did 
they  receive  my  words  as  Thine,  and  they  have  kept  them.  In  much  they 
may  have  failed  to  understand,  but  they  have  been  sincere  and  firm  in  their 
belief  in  me,  as  having  been  sent  by  Thee,  and  as  speaking  Thy  truth. 
Now,  also,  they  have  learned  to  know,  and  do  acknowledge,  that  all  Thou 
hast  given  me — all  that  I  have  said  and  done — is,  as  indeed  it  is,  from  Thee  ! 

"  I  pray  for  them.  I  pray  not  now  for  those  who  know  Thee  not,  the 
unbelieving  world,  but  for  Thine  own,  here  in  Thy  presence — Thine  own, 
whom  Thou  hast  given  me.  My  whole  life  and  work  has  been,  and  is,  a 
prayer  for  the  world  at  large,  from  which  my  people  must  be  gathered, 
but  I  pray  now  for  these,  Thy  servants,  because  they  are  Thine,  though 
Thou  hast  given  them  to  me.  And  all  things  that  are  mine  arc  also  Thine, 
and  Thine  are  mine ;  the  work,  the  aim,  the  means,  the  power,  the  grace, 
are  alike  mine  and  Thine,  for  I  am  in  Thee  and  Thou  in  me.  Thy  Will, 
Eternal  Father,  is  ever  mine,  my  work  also  is  Thine ;  Thou  in  me  and  I  in 
Thee,  and  thus,  though  all  things  are  Thine,  I  am  glorified  in  them. 
Greatly  do  these.  Thy  servants,  need  Thy  help,  for  I,  their  friend,  am  about 
to  leave  them,  but  they  remain  in  the  world  that  hates  them  for  my  sake. 
"Without  Thy  heavenly  aid  and  protection,  they  will  not  be  able  to  do  the 
work  Thou  hast  appointed  them.  Therefore,  Holy  Father,  keep  them  true 
to  Thy  name,  which  Thou  gavest  me  to  make  known  to  them,  that  by  their 
common  faith  and  love  they  may  be  one,  as  Thou  and  I  are  one.  While  I 
was  in  the  world,  I  watched  and  protected  those  whom  Thou  thus  com- 
mittedst  to  my  care,  and  kept  them  faithful  to  Thy  name— kept  them 
from  the  evil  one,  from  denying  Thee,  from  falling  away  from  Thee — and 
none  of  them  has  perished  but  the  son  of  perdition,  for  the  Scripture  must 
be  fulfilled.    Thou  must  watch  and  keep  them,  now  that  I  shall  leave  them ! 

"  But  now  I  come  to  Thee,  and  these  things  I  speak,  being  yet  in  the 
world,  that  they  may  have,  in  their  own  souls,  the  perfect  joy  that  is  in 
mine,  feeling  assured  confidence  that  the  grave  will  not  have  dominion 
over  me,  and  that  they  will  have  Thee  for  their  helper.  I  have  given  them 
Thy  word,  and  the  world  has  hated  them  for  receiving  it ;  because  they  do 
not  belong  to  the  world,  as  I  do  not.  Therefore,  O  Father,  kcejD  them !  I 
ask  not  that  Thou  shouldest  take  them  out  of  the  world  because  it  hatea 


668  THE   LIFE    OP   CIlllIST. 

them;  for  suffcrlug  and  straggle  are  needed  to  I'jcrfect  their  sph'itual  life, 
and  to  sjaread  abi'oad  ray  Kingdom.  But  lasktliat  Thou  shouldcst  protect 
them  from  the  evil  one,  that  they,  too,  become  not  sons  of  perdition.  They, 
like  me,  are  not  of  the  world,  for  it  is  the  kingdom  of  the  evil  one ;  there- 
fore, they  need  Thy  protecting  care,  and,  as  Thine  own,  will  surely  have  it. 

"Thou  hast  brought  them  out  from  amidst  the  unbelieving  and  hostile 
Avorld,  and  liasfc  given  them  to  me,  and  they  have  received,  and  kept  Thy 
Word,  made  known  to  them  by  me.  Thus  they  live  in  the  Truth,  for  Thy 
Word  is  Truth ;  sanctify  them  in  this,  the  sphere  of  their  new  spiritual 
life ;  not  only  keej)  them  in  it,  but  consecrate  and  jirepare  them  for  their 
great  work,  by  giving  them,  through  the  Spirit  of  holiness  and  truth 
Divine  enlightenment,  power,  boldness,  love,  zeal.  Even  as  Thou  didst 
send  me  into  the  world,  but  didst  first  consecrate  me  by  the  Spirit,  given 
without  measure,  that  I  might  accomplish  the  work  Thou  gavest  me  to  do, 
I  liave  also  sent  them  into  the  world,  and  tliey,  O  Father,  need  a  similar 
consecration,  in  Thine  own  measure,  to  prosper  in  Thy  work. 

"For  their  sakes  I  consecrate  myself  to  Thee,  in  my  death,  as  a  holy 
offering — for  I  am  both  high  priest  and  sacrifice ;  that  they,  also,  may  be 
made  holy  in  the  Truth,  by  Thy  Spirit,  the  Helper  whom  Thou  wilt  send, 
because  I,  the  Holy  One,  have  thus  died  for  them. 

"  But  I  pray  not  for  these.  Thy  servants  now  before  Thee,  alone,  but  for 
all  them,  also,  who  will  henceforth  believe  in  me,  through  their  word,  that 
they  all,  teachers,  believers,  and  converts,  may  Ije  one,  in  mutual  fellow- 
ship and  communion  of  love ;  the  copy  of  that  between  Thee,  Father,  and 
me ;  communion  so  deep  and  holy  that  Thou  art  in  me,  and  I  in  Thee. 
May  they  1je,  thus,  one  in  each  other,  by  being  one  in  Us,  by  loving  vital 
communion  with  Thee  and  me,  that  the  unbelieving  world  may  have  a 
visible  proof,  and  may  believe  that  Thou  didst  send  me,  the  source,  the 
centre,  the  stay  of  such  heavenly  love. 

"  That  all  who  shall  now  or  hereafter  believe  in  me,  may  be  thus  one  in 
holy  love  and  life,  even  as  We  are  One— I  have  given  them,  as  their 
future  inheritance,  at  my  coming  in  my  eternal  Kingdom,  ]mrt  in  that 
heavenly  glory  which  Thou  hast  given  me ;  that  they  may  share  it  with 
me  for  ever.  I  have  given  it  them,  that  they  may  be  one,  even  as  We  ai'e 
One ;  for  how  strong  must  it  be  as  a  bond  of  unitj^  that  they  are  heirs 
together  of  the  same  glory  with  me  in  heaven.  I  have  given  it  them  that 
they  may  thus  ho  perfectly  joined  in  one,  I  dwelling  in  them  and  Thou  in 
me,  that  the  world  may  know  that  Thou  hast  sent  me,  and  hast  loved  them 
with  the  same  Father's  love  with  which  Thou  hast  loved  me,  and  may 
thus  believe  on  me,  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

"  Father,  I  will  that  they  whom  Thou  hast  given  me,  from  all  the  gener- 
ations of  men,  be  with  me  hereafter,  to  enjoy  eternal  life  and  everlasting 
communion  with  me  in  that  heavenly  world  whither  I  am  now  going.  It 
is  the  high  reward  of  their  faithfulness,  their  supreme  consolation  amidst 
all  earthly  trials,  their  glorious  animating  hope.  I  will  that  their  joy  may 
be  full,  in  seeing  and  sharing  my  heavenly  glory,  as  they  have  seen  and 
shared  my  humiliation  on  earth— that  glory  with  Thyself,  which  Thou 
hast  given  me  because  Thou  lovedst  me  before  the  foundation  of  the  world. 


THE    AEREST.  G69 

"  Kigliteous  Father,  I  know  that  Thou  wilt  carry  out  this  my  will ;  for, 
though  the  world  has  not  known  or  acknowledged  Thee,  as  revealed  iu  my 
words  and  deeds,  I  have  known  Thee,  as  working  in  me,  aud  revealing 
Thyself  through  me — known  Thee  by  direct  immediate  knowledge — and 
these,  Thy  servants  before  Thee,  having  opened  their  hearts,  and  received 
my  word,  have  known  and  believed  that  Tliou  hast  sent  me.  I  have  made 
known  unto  them  Thy  Name,  and  will  make  ib  known  through  the  Spirit 
whom  I  will  send ;  that  the  love  wherewith  Thou  hast  loved  me,  Thoii 
mayest  also  make  dwell  in  their  hearts,  and  that  I,  by  the  Spirit,  may 
dwell  in  them  for  ever." 

How  sublimely  this  prayer  was  realized  in  the  history  of  the  Apostles, 
the  "  Acts  "  and  the  EjDistles  abundantly  illustrate.  It  was  their  common 
glory  to  believe  that  nothing  could  separate  them  from  the  love  of  God  in 
Christ ;  that  He,  by  His  Spirit,  was  with  them,  and  that  through  His  help 
they  overcame  all  that  opposed.  The  contrast  between  the  dejected, 
faint-hearted,  materializing  Galiljean  fishermen  and  peasants  of  the  Gos- 
pels, and  the  heroic,  spiritual  confessors  of  Pentecost  and  after-times,  is, 
itself,  a  miracle,  great  beyond  all  others.  The  illumination  of  soul,  the 
grandeur  of  conception,  the  loftiness  of  aim,  are  a  transformation  from  a 
lower  to  an  indefinitely  higher  mental  and  moral  condition,  as  complete  as 
the  change  from  early  twilight  to  noon,  and  find  their  only  solution  in  the 
admission  that  they  must  have  i-eceived  the  miraculous  spiritual  enlighten- 
ment from  above  which  Jesus  had  promised  to  send  them. 


CHAPTER   LX. 

THE  ahhest. 

WHILE  Jesus  was  tendei-ly  bidding  farewell  to  His  few  followers  in 
the  upper  room,  all  was  bustle  and  excitement  among  the  Church 
authorities,  now  on  the  track  of  His  blood  by  the  help  of  Judas. 

It  was  the  great  holiday  of  the  year  at  Jerusalem  ;  the  week  in  which, 
beyond  any  other  time,  the  whole  population  gave  themselves  up  to  re- 
joicing. The  citizens,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  were  reaping  the 
great  golden  harvest  of  the  year  from  the  myriads  of  pilgrims,  aiid  they, 
on  their  side,  had  the  excitement  of  numbers,  and  novelty,  and  religious 
enthusiasm.  A  mei'e  mountain  city,  Jerusalem  lived  by  the  Temple, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  and  it  was  now  the  loadstone  that  had  drawn 
the  whole  Jewish  world  around  it. 

With  the  craft  that  habitually  marked  him,  the  tetrarch  Antipas  had     I 
come  up  from  Tiberias,  to  show  how  devoutly  he  honoured  the  Law,  aud     I 
had  taken  his  residence  in  the  old  castle  of  the  Asmoneans,  which   still 
remained  in  the  hands  of  his  family.     It  was  near  the  Xystus,  and  exactly 
opposite  the  Temple,  to  which  he  could  cross  by  the  upper  bridge,  over  the 
Tyropoeon  Yalley  between  Zion  and  Moriah. 

Pilate,  also,  had  arrived  from  Cassarea,  to  secure,  in  person,  the  prcser-     | 
vation  of  order  iu  the  dangerous  days  of  the  feast.     His  quarters  Avere  in 
the  new  palace,  built  by  Herod  the  Great  on  Zion.     It  was  the  pride  of 


670  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Jerusalem.  "  The  kinds  of  stone  used  in  its  construction,"  says  Josoplms, 
"  Avere  countless.  YVhatcver  was  rare  abounded  in  it.  The  roofs  aston- 
islied  every  one  by  the  length  of  their  beams  and  the  beauty  of  their 
adornment.  "Vessels,  mostly  of  gold  and  silver,  rich  in  chasing,  shone  on 
every  side.  The  great  dining-hall  had  been  constructed  to  su]iply  table- 
couches  for  three  hundred  guests.  Others  opened  in  all  directions,  each 
with  a  different  style  of  pillar.  The  open  space  before  the  palace  was  laid 
out  in  broad  walks,  planted  with  long  avenues  of  different  trees,  and 
bordered  by  broad  deep  canals  and  great  ponds,  flowing  with  cool,  clear 
water,  and  set  off  along  the  banks  with  innumerable  works  of  art."  It  was 
the  vast  citadel-palace  in  which  the  tragedies  of  the  family  of  Herod  had 
been  enacted.  Here  Archelaus  had  reigned,  and  Glaphyra  had  died.  By 
right  of  war,  the  Romans  had  taken  it,  as  the  chief  building  of  the  city, 
for  the  residence  of  the  procurators,  and  had  made  it  the  Pra3torium,  or 
head-quarters.  Its  enclosure —large  enough  to  permit  almost  an  army  to 
be  gathered  in  it,  if  necessary — ran  along  the  inner  side  of  the  first  city 
wall,  and  was  connected  with  the  great  castles  of  white  stone,  Mariamnc, 
Hippicus,  and  Phasaelus,  which  Herod  had  built ;  the  whole  constituting, 
in  fact,  a  vast  fortification. 

The  high  priest  at  the  time  of  the  Passover,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
Caiaphas.  The  real  head  of  the  priesthood,  however,  was  the  crafty 
Hannas,  or  Ananus,  without  whom  nothing  of  moment  was  done  in  the 
affairs  of  tlie  theocracy.  As  father  of  the  greatest  Sadducean  family,  he 
was  fitly  notorious  for  his  harsh  judgments,  and  was  presently  to  take  the 
chief  part  in  the  death  of  Jesus,  as  his  son  afterwards  did  in  that  of  St, 
James.  He  had  been  ajapointed  high  priest  by  Quirinius  in  the  year  a.d. 
7,  but  had  been  deprived  of  the  dignity  seven  years  later  by  Valerius 
Gratus.  The  unique  honour  was  reserved  to  him,  however,  of  seeing  his 
five  sons  successively  pontiffs — one  of  them  twice — a  distinction  which, 
in  later  years,  gained  for  him,  among  his  countrymen,  the  name  of  the 
most  fortunate  of  men. 

Intrigue  and  unwearied  plotting  were  the  very  life  of  Hannas  and  his 
house.  The  gliding,  deadly,  snakclike  smootluioss  with  which  tlicy  seized 
their  prey  was  a  wonder  even  to  their  own  generation,  and  had  given  them 
a  by-name  as  hissing  vijaers.  When  Quirinius,  after  the  census,  degraded 
the  high  jiricst  Joazer,  who  had  brought  on  himself  universal  hatred  by 
his  services  to  tlie  Eomans,  Hannas  was  chosen  as  the  one  of  the  Temple 
aristocracy  least  displeasing  either  to  the  Eomans  or  the  Jcavs.  He  had 
managed  to  maintain  his  influence  with  three  procurators  through  difficult 
times.  Under  Valerius  Gratus,  he  was  forced  to  give  way  to  Ismacl  Ben 
Phabi,  but,  after  a  jcar,  had  had  him  displaced,  in  favour  of  Eleazar,  one 
of  his  own  sons.  He  himself  declined  to  hold  the  office  again,  on  the  same 
ground  which  Jonathan,  another  of  his  sons,  afterwards  pleaded,  in  the 
days  of  Herod  Agrippa,  when  that  king  wislicd  him  to  take  it  a  second  time. 
The  family,  though  loose  enough  in  more  serious  matters,  were  very  strict 
as  to  hierarchical  order.  ISTo  one,  they  held,  shoiild  resume  the  sacred 
vestments  after  having  once  laid  them  off,  and  released  himself  from  the 
oljligations  imposed  by  wearing  them.    Hannas  bowed  to  this  rule,  as  vital 


THE    ARREST.  G71 

to  the  theocratic  constitution,  by  the  help  of  which  his  house  stood  at  the 
head  of  Israel.  He  chose,  therefore,  henceforth  to  hold  the  reins  only  iu 
safe  obscurity,  but  with  a  firm  hand. 

His  sons,  Eleazar,  Jonathan,  Theoplulus,  lEatthias,  and  Haunas,  succes- 
sively became  high  priests  ;  but  when,  at  his  death,  the  leading  spirit  was 
gone,  the  l^rutality  of  the  Saddncee  came  more  prominently  into  play,  and 
speedily  led  to  the  ruin  of  the  house. 

Among  the  high  priests  who  had  interrupted  the  direct  reign  of  this 
family,  Caiaphas,  son-in-law  of  Hannas,  ruled  longest.  At  the  time  of  tlio 
condemnation  of  Jesus  he  had  held  the  hign  priesthood  for  seTcntccn 
years,  having  given  Pilate  no  excuse  for  setting  him  aside,  in  spite  of  the 
conflict  respecting  the  eagles,  the  shields,  and  the  conduits  of  Jerusalem. 
He  even  retained  it  till  after  the  great  day,  in  the  year  a.d.  36,  when  the 
sacred  vestments,  so  long  held  from  them,  were  handed  over  by  Vitellius 
permanently  to  the  Jews,  instead  of  being  given  out  to  them  from  the  strong 
room  of  Antonia,  a  week  before  each  great  feast,  for  seven  days'  purifica- 
tions, washings,  and  consecrations,  to  free  them  from  heathen  defilement, 
before  they  could  be  worn.  CaiajDhas,  however,  had  little  to  do  with  pro- 
curing this  great  favour,  and  was  deposed  almost  immediately  after; 
Jonathan,  the  son  of  Hannas,  being  appointed  in  his  stead. 

Thus,  at  the  time  of  the  condemnation  of  Jesus,  the  acting  high  priest 
was  only  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  a  powerful  family,  at  the  head  of  which 
stood  Hannas,  his  father-in-law,  sorely  envied  by  the  rest  of  the  priestly 
aristocracy. 

Jewish  tradition  descril)es  the  grades  of  the  ancient  hierarchy  as  con- 
sisting of  the  high  priest ;  his  deputy,  or  Sagan ;  two  suffragans  of  the 
Sagan ;  seven  priests,  to  whom  were  entrusted  the  keys  of  the  Temple ; 
and  three  treasurers,  whose  office  it  was  to  give  out  l^the  sacred  vessels. 
Of  those  holdinc;  these  offices  when  Jesus  w^as  condemned,  we  can  still 
darkly  make  out  some.  With  Caiaphas,  at  his  right  hand,  sat  Hannas, 
the  titular  second,  but  real  head.  Jochanan  Ben  Zacchai,  called  John  iu 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  one  Alexander,  seem  to  have  held  the  next 
dignities,  and  after  them  ca.m.e  the  five  sons  of  Hannas,  already  an  old 
man,  Eleazar,  Jonathan,  Tlieophilus,  Matthias,  and  Hannas  —  the  five 
apparently  hinted  at  in  the  aw^ful  parable  of  Dives— and  his  five  brothers, 
all  to  be  high  priests  hereafter,  Hannas,  the  younger,  destined  to  stain  his 
pontificate  by  the  murder  of  James,  the  brother  of  Jesus. 

The  names  of  some  other  members  of  what  we  may  call  the  self-con- 
stituted high  ecclesiastical  council,  still  survive.  Among  these  were 
Joazcr  and  Eleazar,  the  sons  of  that  Simon  Bocthus  of  Alexandria,  whose 
daughter,  the  second  Mariamne,  the  belle  of  Jerusalem,  was  married  by 
Herod.  Simon,  though  well-nigh  a  heretic  in  the  eyes  of  the  national 
party,  had  been  made  high  priest  by  his  royal  son-in-law,  and  his  sons  had 
succeeded  him  in  the  dignity,  but  bore  an  evil  name  for  their  state  and 
violence.  Their  guard  of  spearmen,  indeed,  became  an  object  of  jiopular 
hatred.  Simon,  surnamed  Kanthera,  "  the  Quarrelsome," — the  murderer 
of  St.  James  the  son  of  Zebcdee — and  his  son  Elioneus,  afterwards  high 
priest,  had  a  right  to  attend,  and  did  so  with  a  pomp  which  brought  on  the 


672  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

family  the  ciirso  of  the  people,— "  Woe  to  your  fine  feathers,  ye  family  of 
Kanthera !  "  Ismael  Ben  Phabi,  the  handsomest  man  of  his  day,  Avas 
another  mitred  high  counsellor,  to  be  famed  hereafter  for  the  clubs  and 
blows  of  his  serving  men,  the  greed  of  his  bailiffs,  his  shameless  nepotism, 
and  the  Oriental  luxury  of  his  dress,  one  outer  tunic  of  which  cost  a  hun- 
dred minee — equal,  perhaps,  at  this  day,  to  eighteen  hundred  pounds. 
There  were,  also,  Johanan  Ben  Nebedai,  the  jDersecutor  of  St.  Paul,  in- 
famous in  latter  days  as  a  sensual  glutton,  who  seized  even  the  holy 
sacrifices  for  his  feasts  :  and  Issachar,  of  Kefar  Barkai,  who,  in  his  pontifi- 
cate of  a  latter  day,  would  not  sacrifice  except  in  silk  gloves,  for  fear  of 
soiling  his  hands,  but  lived  to  have  those  hands  barbarously  cut  off  by 
King  Agrippa.  Such  were  the  men  about  to  seize  Jesus.  No  wonder  that 
even  the  Talmud  relates  that  voices  were  heard  from  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
crying,  "  Depart  from  the  Temple,  ye  sons  of  Eli ;  ye  defile  the  house  of 
Jehovah  !  " 

The  elders  of  the  people— a  body  equivalent  to  a  Jewish  senate— were  in 
no  less  agitation  respecting  Christ;  for  they,  also,  were  identified  with  the 
preservation  of  things  as  they  were.  One  or  two  of  them — Nicodemus,  and 
Joseph  of  Arimathea — were  secretly  in  his  favour,  but  they  had  not  moral 
courage  to  take  his  part  openly.     The  names  of  the  rest  have  perished. 

The  college  of  Rabbis  took  an  equally  vigorous  part,  but  its  members 
at  this  time  can  only  be  guessed,  though  some  who  had  met  the  boy  Jesus, 
twenty  years  before,  in  the  Temple  school,  doubtless  survived. 

It  was  late  in  the  night  of  Thursday  when  Jesus  had  ended  His  last 
discourse  and  farewell  prayer.  According  to  the  immemorial  custom  of 
the  nation  to  mingle  songs  of  i:)raise  to  God  with  their  feasts,  the  little 
band  had  already  sung  the  first  two  of  the  six  Psalms— the  one  hundred 
and  thirteenth  to  one  hundred  and  eighteenth— which  formed  the  great 
Hallelujah  of  the  Passover  and  all  other  feasts.  The  stillness  of  the  night 
had  been  broken  by  the  sound  at  the  time  when  the  second  cup  had  been 
poured  out.  Now,  at  the  close,  the  voices  of  the  eldest  of  them  chanted, 
with  slow,  solemn  strains,  the  remainder  of  the  Hallelujah— the  rest 
responding  with  the  word,  Hallelujah,  at  the  close  of  each  verse,  The 
anthem  began  fitly — "  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  Thy  name  give 
glory,  for  Thy  mercy,  and  for  Thy  truth's  sake,"  and  closed  with  the  words 
of  the  hundred  and  eighteenth  Psalm — "Blessed  be  He  that  cometh  iu  the 
name  of  Jehovah;"  the  Apostles  responding — "in  the  name  of  Jehovah, 
Hallelujah  ! "  And  now  all  was  over,  and  the  Eleven,  f  olloAving  their  Master, 
went  out  into  the  night.     They  were  on  their  way  to  Gethsemane. 

The  spirit  of  Jesus  had,  hitherto,  been  calm  and  serene.  But  the  final 
close,  the  break  with  all  the  past,  the  shadow,  deeper  than  that  of  Kedron, 
before  Him,  for  the  time  brought  on  a  reaction,  which,  till  it  passed,  over- 
whelmed Him  with  trouble.  No  wonder  the  Apostles  had  been  cast  down 
when  even  He  who  had  been  exhorting  them  to  dismiss  soi*row,  was  Him- 
self moved.  Behind  Him  lay  life,  before  Him  death;  He  v.'as  about  to 
leave  friends,  and  the  fair  earth,  which,  as  a  man.  He  loved  so  well,  and 
His  infant  Church,  the  hope  of  the  world  He  had  come  to  save.  Before 
Him  lay,  not  only  natural  death,  but  shame,  derision,  misconception.     He 


THE    ARREST.  G73 

whose  -whole  sonl  was  truth,  was  to  be  crucified  as  a  deceiver ;  the  One  on 
earth  absolutely  loyal  to  God,  He  was  to  die  as  a  blasphemer.  Loaded 
willi  false  charges  and  feeling  their  baseless  malignance,  He  was  to  be  put 
to  death  on  the  ground  of  them !  How  might  it  affect  the  little  band,  to 
■whom  the  future  of  His  kingdom  was  entrusted  ?  He  had  hitherto  re- 
strained Himself  from  using  His  supernatural  power  in  His  own  behalf — 
would  He  still  do  so  ?  He  had  but  to  speak,  and  all  would  be  changed ; 
for  He  who  could  calm  tlie  waves  of  the  sea,  could  quell  the  tumult  of  the 
people,  and  what  were  Temple  guards  or  Roman  soldiei'S  against  legions 
of  angels  ?  Would  He  still  absolutely  subordinate  all  thought  of  self  ? 
Would  He,  to  the  end,  let  men  do  with  Him  as  they  pleased,  though  Ho 
had  at  His  command  all  the  powers  of  heaven  ?  Tlie  temptation  of  the 
desert  and  of  the  mountain  may,  for  a  moment,  have  returned,  and  who 
can  tell  the  struggle  it  must  have  been  to  overcome  it  ? 

Nor  was  even  this  all.  The  mj'stcries  of  the  Divine  counsels  must  be 
for  ever  unknown,  but  they  pressed,  in  all  their  weight,  on  His  absolutely 
sinless  soul.  He  was  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  man  ;  to  be  made  an 
offei'ing  for  sin,  though  He  knew  none  ;  to  be  repaid  for  infinite  love  and 
goodness  by  ignominy  and  shame.  Perfect  innocence  freely  yielding  itself 
to  misconception  and  death,  for  the  unworthy  and  vile,  would  be  transcen- 
dant  even  in  a  man,  but  is  beyond  thought  in  the  Son  of  God.  Who  can  tell 
what  it  was  to  have  left  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the  heavens  to 
stoop  to  Calvary ! — for  Him  who  could  raise  the  dead  to  descend  to  the  tomb ! 
No  wonder  His  human  soul  was  for  the  moment  eclipsed  and  clouded. 

They  passed,  silent  and  sad,  down  the  steep  side  of  the  Kedron — for  the 
town  gate  was  open  that  night,  as  it  was  Passover — and,  crossing  by  the 
bridge,  were  on  the  road  which  leads  over  the  Mount  of  Olives  to  Bethany. 
The  noise  of  the  multitude  had  passed  away,  and  the  world  lay  asleep 
under  the  great  Passover-moon.  The  path  wound  between  stone-walled 
orchards  and  gardens,  which  Titus  was,  hereafter,  to  find  so  many  deadly 
battle-grounds,  with  the  walls  for  ramjoarts.  He  had  gone  out  of  the  city, 
each  night,  to  Bethany,  but  had  no  intention  of  doing  so  now,  for  He  knew 
that  His  hour  had  come.  Always  given  to  solitary  prayer  among  the  hills 
so  dear  to  Him  as  a  Galila3an,  He  had  often  turned  aside  to  commune  with 
His  Father  on  one  part  or  other  of  Olivet,  and,  this  night,  chose  the  still- 
ness and  shade  of  a  spot  which  His  presence  made,  henceforth,  sacred  for 
ever.  An  olive  orchard  lay  near,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Oil-press— or, 
as  we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  it,  Gethsemane.  It  was  called  so  from  a 
rock-hewn  trough  in  it,  in  which  the  rich  olives  were  trodden  with  the 
feet,  the  oil  flowing  into  a  similar  ti'ough  below.  The  new  leaves  were 
opening  over  the  branches  as  they  passed,  and  the  moonlight  fell  through 
their  motionless  network  on  the  tender  spring  grass.  Stillness,  peace, 
solitude,  filled  earth  and  air  ;  even  the  birds  slept  safely  on  the  bouglis 
under  the  great  sky ;  for  they,  too,  had  a  Heavenly  Father.  Moriah  rose 
m  richly  wooded  terraces  behind,  crowned  with  the  snow-white  Temple  in 
its  magnificence  and,  in  front,  the  yellow  slopes  of  Olivet  rising  from  their 
border  of  gardens  and  orchards,  swelled  between  them  and  the  loved 
cottage  of  Bethany. 

X   X 


G74  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Amidst  tliis  quiet  and  beauty  o£  nature  Jesus  turned  aside,  and  entered 
the  enclosure  of  Gethsemauc,  to  strengthen  His  soul  for  the  coming  crisis. 
It  was  a  fitting  place— amidst  olives,  the  emljlems  of  peace  ! 

A  square,  stone-walled  garden,  close  by  the  path  to  Betliany,  on  the  edge 
of  the  Kedron  ravine,  under  the  shadow  of  the  Temple  hill,  is  still  shown 
as  the  spot.  Yenerable  olive-trees,  tended  with  suj^crstitious  care,  arc 
claimed  as  the  very  witnesses  of  our  Saviour's  agony  ;  but  it  is  fatal  to  the 
belief  in  the  tradition,  that  Titus  afterwards  cut  down  all  the  trees  round 
Jerusalem,  for  military  use,  and  that  the  same  fate  has  befallen  the  whole 
neighbourhood  in  later  sieges.  But  the  gnarled  trunks,  twenty  to  thirty 
feet  high,  the  broad  branches,  and  the  still  seclusion,  at  least  reproduce  the 
outward  features  of  the  scene. 

When  the  soul  is  overwhelmed  it  seeks  to  be  alone,  and  yet  not  too  far 
from  human  sympathy  and  help.  To  take  all  the  Eleven  with  Him  into 
the  depths  of  the  garden,  would  have  invaded  the  sacredness  of  His  retire- 
ment. Only  three,  the  most  trusted— His  long-tried  and  early  followers, 
Peter,  whose  guest  He  had  been  in  the  bright  Capernaum  days,  and  James 
and  John,  knit  to  Him  by  special  tenderness,  if  not  even  by  relationshij) — 
were  allowed  to  go  with  Him  beyond  the  first  few  steps  into  the  enclosiire. 
The  others  were  to  sit  down  and  rest,  while  He  went  into  the  deeper  shade, 
to  pray. 

Accompanied  by  the  Three,  He  passed  out  of  hearing  of  the  rest,  and 
presently,  leaving  even  the  Three  behind,  with  the  words,  "  My  soul  is  ex- 
ceeding sorrowful,  even  unto  death — tarry  ye  here  and  watch  with  mc ;  " 
He  went  on  about  a  stone's  cast,  alone.  And,  now,  the  great  pent  up  sorrow 
burst  forth.  It  had  been  gathering,  no  one  knows  how  long,  but  the  excite- 
ment of  action  had  repressed  it  as  yet — as  the  vfind  keeps  a  heavy  raincloud 
from  breaking.  But,  here,  instead  of  the  city  and  its  multitudes  of  men, 
there  was  silence  and  loneliness ;  instead  of  the  distractions  of  conflict 
with  enemies,  or  discourses  with  friends,  He  was  face  to  face  with  His  own 
thoughts,  and  v/ith  the  Past  and  the  Future,  and  that  in  the  night,  and  in 
such  awful  isolation.  For  it  seemed  as  if  even  heaven  were  as  far  from  Him 
~as  the  sympathy  of  earth ;  as  if  even  its  lights  had  gone  out,  and  He  was  tread- 
ing the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  in  a  horror  of  thick  darkness.  Must 
He  bear  all  ?  Must  the  cup  be  drunk  to  the  dregs  ?  Was  redemption  pos- 
sible only  at  the  awful  price  that  so  oppressed  His  soul  ?  Could  the  hour 
not  pass?    Was  it  not  possible  for  the  Eternal  Father  to  save  Him  from  it  ? 

The  sacred  writers  labour  to  describe  the  agony  that  overwhelmed  Him. 
They  tell  us  that  He  first  kneeled,  then  fell  on  His  face  on  the  earth,  and 
prayed  with  strong  crying  and  tears,  till  His  sweat  became,  as  it  were,  great 
drops  of  blood,  falling  dovm  to  the  ground.  He  was  "  exceeding  sorrowful," 
'■  sore  amazed,"  "very  heavy."  His  soul,  as  it  were,  sank  under  the  vision 
that  rose  before  it.  "  0  my  Father,"  He  cried,  "  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from,  me ;  nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but  Thine,  be  done."  But 
as  long  as  there  was  a  struggle  of  the  frail  human  nature,  and  a  cry,  how- 
ever reverent  and  lowly,  for  change,  if  possible,  in  the  burden  laid  on  Him, 
there  could  be  no  peace.  Eising  fi'om  the  ground,  in  His  agony  of  spirit, 
human  sympathy  and  presence  seemed  as  if  they  would  be  a  relief.     He 


THE   ABEEST.  675 

came  tliereforo  to  the  Three,  but  ouly  to  fiud  tliat,  in  His  long,  wrestling 
supplications,  even  they,  His  nearest  ones,  overcome  by  weariness  of  body 
and  spirit,  lay  sunk  in  deep  sleep.  Rousing  Peter,  lately  so  boastful,  He 
gently  reproved  and  warned  him,  and  with  him,  the  others.  "What !  could 
you  not  watch  with  me  one  hour  ?  Watch,  and  pray  as  ye  do  so,  that  ye 
may  not  expose  yourselves  to  temptation  to  be  untrue  to  me,  and  to  be  of- 
fended at  me,  as  I  have  said  you  would.  The  spirit  indeed  is  willing  to 
stand  by  me  faithfully,  but  human  nature,  with  its  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation, is  weak,  and  if  you  heed  not,  will  make  you  fall !  " 

Leaving  them  again,  He  once  more  prostrated  Himself  in  prayer ;  but 
the  clouds  were  already  breaking,  for  His  whole  being  had  returned  to  its 
habitual  harmony  with  the  will  of  God.  Every  desire  or  wish  of  His  own 
was  passing  like  a  troubled  dream.  "  0  my  Father,"  cried  He  now,  "  if 
this  cup  may  not  pass  away  from  me,  except  I  drink  it.  Thy  will  be  done." 
Perfect  peace  of  soul  can  only  be  found  iu  absolute  submission  to  the  One 
Supreme  Will,  and  that  He  was  fast  attaining.  Eeturning  to  the  Three — 
who  knows  for  what  ? — He  found  them  asleep  again.  They  were  losing,  by 
their  hour's  sloth,  the  opportunity  of  cheering  and  helping  their  Master  in 
His  sorest  trial.  Man  had  thus  failed  Him,  but  the  need  of  human  comfort 
was  passing  away.  Retiring,  therefore,  once  more,  and  prostrating  Him- 
Belf  a  third  time,  the  same  calm  child-like  submission  to  His  Father  again 
rose  from  His  lips.  He  had  triumphed.  He  had  been  heard  iu  that  He 
feared.  He  no  longer  craved  a  change,  even  if  possible,  in  the  ordered 
course  of  the  Divine  pui'poses  ;  His  earnest  cry  had  passed  into  still  sub- 
mission; His  intense  desire  into  holy  acquiescence.  He  thought  no  longer 
of  Himself,  but  of  the  perfect  love  and  wisdom  of  the  Father.  He  had 
ceased  to  have  a  wish ;  enough  for  Him,  henceforth  the  all-holy,  all-Avise, 
all-loving  will  of  the  Father.  His  spirit  had  broken  through  the  cloud 
that  for  a  moment  darkened  it,  and  reposed  once  more  in  the  calm  light  of 
the  face  of  God.  The  tempter  had  fled,  and,  in  his  place,  as  after  the  vic- 
tory of  the  wilderness,  we  are  told  by  St.  Luke,  "there  appeared  an  angel 
unto  Him  from  Heaven,  strengthening  Him." 

Meanwhile,  Judas  had  been  busy.  Exposed,  and  dismissed  by  his 
Master  from  the  company  of  the  Apostles,  he  had  only  been  the  more  set 
to  carry  out  his  miserable  purpose.  Hastening  through  the  illuminated 
streets,  to  the  authorities,  he  had,  forthwith,  reported  that  the  favourable 
moment  seemed  to  have  come.  Jesus  had  once  more  ventured  into  Jeru- 
salem, a7id  though  it  might  not  be  safe  to  take  Him  in  the  thronged  city, 
it  would  be  easy  to  come  upon  Him  outside  the  walls,  as  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  going  each  night  for  prayer  to  a  spot  at  the  foot  of  the  Mount  of 
Olives.     The  traitor  meant  Gethsemane. 

The  authorities  remained  in  permanent  session  till  the  aiTest  was 
effected,  and  at  once  detached  part  of  the  Temple  Watch,  a  body  acting  as 
the  police  of  the  Temple,  and  armed  at  most,  only,  with  wooden  batons  or 
clubs.  The  officers  of  the  watch,  and  even  some  of  the  chief  priests  and 
eldei's,  in  their  excitement,  accompanied  them.  It  had  been  thought  un- 
wise, however,  to  trust  so  grave  a  matter  to  an  undisciplined  and  weak 
force,  and  the  high  priest  had,  therefore,  communicated  with  Pilate,  repre- 


676  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

senting,  doubtless,  that  lie  proposed  the  arrest  of  a  false  Messiah,  dangerous 
to  the  Eoman  power,  and  feared  a  rescue.  A  "  band  "  had,  therefore,  been 
told  off  from  the  troops  in  Antonia,  and  these,  under  the  chiliarch  in  com- 
mand of  the  garrison,  waited  their  orders.  A  rabble  of  the  servants  of  the 
upper  priests  and  chief  men,  with  lanterns  and  torches,  to  discover  Jesus 
should  He  try  to  hide  Himself,  led  the  way,  behind  Judas,  who  went  fore- 
most as  guide.  It  was  the  full  moon  of  April,  but  the  trees  and  recesses 
might  aid  an  attem^Dt  at  escape. 

Jesus  had  just  returned  from  His  third  prayer,  and  was  rousing  His 
disciples,  when  he  heard  the  noise  of  the  soldiers  and  the  crowd,  and  saw 
their  lights  approaching.  The  disappointment,  at  even  His  most  trusted 
friends  lying  asleep  when  they  should  have  watclicd,  and  leaving  it  to  Him- 
self to  discover  Judas  and  his  band,  wounded  His  heart.  With  keen  but 
gentle  irony,  therefore,  He  told  them  that  they  might  sleep  on  now  and 
take  their  rest,  if  they  chose ;  their  watching  was  no  longer  needed.  His 
hour  had  come.  Then,  speaking  in  a  serious  strain,  He  bade  them  "  rise 
and  go  out  with  Him,  for  the  traitor  was  at  hand." 

Judas  aiul  his  employers  had  utterly  misjudged  the  character  of  Jesus. 
Knowing  all  that  was  before  Him,  and  now  calmly  victorious  over  momen- 
tary human  Aveakness,  He  did  not  wait  for  His  enemies,  but,  taknig  His  dis- 
ciples with  Him,  went  out  of  the  garden  enclosure  to  meet  them.  "Whom 
seek  ye  ?  "  said  He  as  they  approached.  "  Jesus,  the  Nazarene,"  answered 
the  foremost.  To  their  confusion,  the  calm,  self-possessed  speaker  presently 
told  them  that  He  was  Jesus.  ISTot  a  few  in  the  Jewish  crowd  gathered 
befoi'e  Him,  had  heard  Him  spoken  of  as  a  prophet,  and  had,  perhaps,  even 
accepted  Him  as  such.  They  had  all  heard  of  His  mysterious  supernatural 
power,  and  He  might,  possibh',  now  use  it  against  them,  though  hitlicrto 
He  had  never  availed  Himself  of  it  for  personal  ends.  His  kingly  compo- 
sure and  dignity,  moreover,  awed  them,  for  grandeur  of  soul  and  bearing 
enforce  acknowledgment.  Withal,  it  may  be,  He  revealed  a  momentai-y 
glimjjse  of  His  transfiguration  splendour,  to  show  that  He  freely  surren- 
dered Himself,  because  His  hour  had  come.  From  whatever  cause,  the 
crowd  fell  back  in  confusion,  overturning  each  other  in  their  alarm.  "Whom 
seek  ye  ?  "  asked  Jesus  once  more.  "  Jesus,  the  Nazarene,"  muttered  the 
boldest.  "  I  told  you,"  replied  He,  "that  I  am  He;  if  you  seek  me,  let 
these  men,  my  disciples,  go  their  way."  He  had  said,  that  of  those  whom 
the  Father  had  given  Him  He  had  lost  none,  and  even  in  an  earthly  sense, 
He  wonld  now  protect  them. 

Fear  as  jet  paralyzed  the  crowd.  Jesus  had  calmly  owned  Himself,  but 
no  one  dared  to  lay  hold  of  Him.  Judas,  still  under  the  Aveird  spell  of 
evil,  might  well  dread  that  all  would  miscai^ry.  He  had  given  a  signal  by 
which  to  know  his  late  Master,  reckoning  on  having  to  point  Him  out,  and 
would  now  embolden  those  with  him,  by  himself  taking  the  first  step  in 
further  action.  He  had  arranged  that  he  should  mark  Jesus  to  them,  by 
going  up  to  Him  and  giving  Him  the  customary  kiss  of  a  disciple  to  his 
teacher.  Stepping  out,  therefore,  from  the  crowd,  into  the  circle  of  the 
disciples,  as  one  of  their  number,  he  approached  with  a  hypocritical  "Hail, 
Eabbi,"  and  kissed  Him  tenderly.     He  knew,  by  long  experience,  that  he 


THE   AREEST.  677 

might  do  so  safely.  To  the  cahn  aud  keen  question  of  Jesus — "  Good 
friend,  for  what  have  you  come  ?  " — he  returned  no  answer ;  for  what 
answer  could  he  give?  But  he  had  gained  his  end;  for  those  behind, 
encouraged  by  his  remaining  uninjured  after  such  treachery,  laid  hold  of 
Christ  and  bound  Him  without  the  least  resistance  on  His  part. 

ISTow  follov/ed  the  only  act  of  violence  ;  for  Peter,  impetuous  as  he  was 
brave,  could  not  see  his  Master  thus  led  away,  a  prisoner,  without  a  word 
or  act  on  the  part  of  His  friends.  ''  Lord,  shall  we  smite  them  with  the 
sword?"  cried  he;  and  without  waiting  an  answer,  or  thinking  of  the 
hopelessness  of  a  rescue,  or  of  the  odds  against  himself  alone,  he  drew  the 
sword  he  had  hung  by  his  side,  and  made  a  fierce  cut  at  one  of  the  servants 
of  the  high  priest,  fortunately  only  grazing  the  skull,  but  yet  cutting  off 
an  ear.  It  was  a  splendidly  heroic  act,  but  sadly  out  of  place  under  such 
a  Teacher.  Turnin»  to  the  wounded  man,  and  at  the  same  moment  rebuk- 
ing  Peter,  Jesus  checked  any  evil  results  from  the  brave  attack,  by  soft 
words  and  an  effacement  of  the  injury  done.  "  Suffer  thus  far,"  said  He, 
and  then  touched  the  ear,  and  healed  it.  Forthwith,  turning  to  Peter,  He 
told  him  to  sheathe  the  sword.  "  He  who  uses  violence,"  added  He,  "  will 
suffer  violence.  If  you  use  the  sword,  you  expose  all  your  lives  to  danger. 
Shall  I  not  drink  the  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me  ?  Shall  I  hesi- 
tate to  jilease  Him  ?  If  I  wished  to  escape  suffering,  Peter,  dost  thou  not 
know  that  I  could  ask  my  Father,  and  He  would  send  me,  instead  of  your 
help,  twelve  legions  of  angels— a  legion  for  each  of  you — to  protect  me  ? 
But,  then,  that  would  not  happen  which  the  Scriptures  have  foretold  I 
must  undergo." 

The  disciples,  after  the  first  impulsive  thought,  had  abandoned  all  idea 
of  resistance ;  and  as  any  attempt  to  rescue  Jesus  was  clearly  hopeless, 
since  He  did  not  put  forth  His  supernatural  power  on  His  own  behalf,  and 
would  not  let  them'do  anything ;  and  as  they  themselves  seemed  in  danger, 
through  the  impetuosity  of  Peter;  all  took  to  flight  as  soon  as  they  saw 
their  Master  fairly  in  the  hands  of  His  enemies. 

The  intense  excitement  of  the  hierarchy  had  broken  through  all  re- 
straints of  official  dignity.  The  proposal  for  the  arrest  had  been  too  im- 
portant a  matter  to  be  trusted  to  any  underlings,  and  hence,  some  of  the 
head  priests  and  of  the  "  elders  "  had  joined  the  leaders  of  the  Temple 
police  in  the  wild  march  to  Gethsemane.  Surrounded  on  all  sides,  and 
firmly  bound,  as  if  His  captors  still  feared  that  He  would  escape  or  be 
rescued,  Jesus  now  turned  to  these  dignitaries,  so  sadly  out  of  place  in 
such  a  scene,  and  calmly,  but  keenly,  brought  home  to  them  their  shame. 
"  You  come  out  against  me,"  said  He,  "  as  you  might  against  a  robber,  or 
the  head  of  a  rising,  with  swords  and  clubs.  I  sat,  day  by  day,  in  the 
Temple,  teaching,  in  the  thick  of  the  people.  You  had  every  opportunity 
for  laying  hold  on  me  then,  but  you  did  nothing.  The  darkness  of  night  is 
fitted  for  your  designs  ;  it  is  your  hour ;  the  powers  of  evil  work  by  choice 
in  the  dark.  But,  in  all  this,  there  is  no  chance ;  it  happens  only  in  accord- 
ance with  the  predictions  of  the  prophets."  He  said  no  more,  and  allowed 
them  to  lead  Him  away.  The  disciples  were  scattered,  but  one  form 
hovered  after  them,  white  in  the  moonlight      It  was  that  of  a  young  man, 


G78  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

wlio  liad,  apparently,  been  roused  from  sleep  by  the  tumult,  ami  having 
thrown  his  white  linen  sleeping  cloth  round  him  in  liis  haste,  was  following 
Jesus  towards  the  city.  Who  he  was  must  remain  for  over  unknown. 
Was  it  Mark  himself,  who  alone  relates  it  ?  Or  one  from  the  house  jjro- 
bably  attached  to  Gethsemane?  Some  have  supposed  him  to  have  been 
Lazarus ;  others  have  had  different  conjectures ;  he  was,  at  least,  some 
faithful  heart,  eager  to  see  what  they  would  do  with  his  Lord,  The 
soldiers  had  let  the  Apostles  flee,  having  no  orders  to  arrest  them ;  but 
this  strange  apparition  attracted  their  attention,  and  they  sought  to  lay 
hold  on  him.  Casting  off  the  cloth  around  him,  however,  he  escaped  out 
of  their  hands. 

Yet  there  were  friendly  eyes  following  the  sad  scene,  in  the  safe  dark- 
ness of  the  night.  Peter,  and  another  of  the  Apostles,  who  could  only  be 
John,  had  fled  no  further  than  safety  demanded,  and  followed  the  crowd 
at  a  distance,  unable  to  leave  One  they  held  so  dear. 

The  great  object  with  the  authorities  was  to  hurry  forward  the  proceed- 
ings against  their  prisoner  so  quickly,  that  they  might  hand  Him  over  to 
the  Eomans  as  one  already  condemned,  before  the  people  could  be  roused 
on  His  side.     They  had  so  far  gained  their  point. 

On  reaching  Jerusalem,  Jesus  was  first  led  to  the  mansion  of  Hannas, 
the  head  of  the  reigning  priestly  family,  either  in  deference  to  his  recog- 
nised influence,  or  because,  as  the  oldest  high  priest,  he  was  still  acknow- 
ledged as  the  rightful,  if  not  legal,  dignitary.  He  could  see  Jesus,  and 
hear  His  defence,  and  advise  his  son-in-law  how  to  act.  His  "  snake-like  " 
craft  might  help  the  less  acute  Caiaphas. 

What  passed  before  Hannas,  or  what  hints  he  sent  to  Caiaphas,  are  not 
known.  It  may  be  that  he  simply  passed  on  the  prisoner  to  the  legal  high 
piiest  at  once,  hastening  to  follow  Him,  and  secure  His  condemnation. 

In  the  East,  tlie  houses  of  the  great  are  rather  a  group  of  buildings  or 
chambers,  of  unequal  height,  near  or  aljove  each  other,  with  passages  be- 
tween, and  intervening  open  spaces  ;  the  different  structures  having  in- 
dependent entrances  and  separate  roofs.  Such  a  house,  or  rather  cluster 
of  houses,  has  usually  the  form  of  a  large  hollow  square,  the  four  sides  of 
which  surround  a  roomy  coui't ;  paved  in  some  cases,  in  others,  planted 
with  trees,  and  ornamented  with  a  lawn  of  soft  green.  Sometimes,  an 
underground  cistern,  a  spring,  or  a  bath,  offers  the  luxury  of  abundant 
water,  and  makes  the  court  an  agreeable  spot  for  relaxation  or  refresh- 
ment. Porticos  and  galleries  surround  it,  and  furnish  chambers  for  guests 
and  entertainments.  In  some  houses  there  is  also  a  forecourt,  enclosed 
from  the  street  by  walls,  and,  in  all,  the  inner  court  is  reached  by  an  arch- 
way through  the  front  building — "the  porch,"  in  the  narrative  of  the 
Gospels. 

The  hierai'chical  party  were  in  permanent  session  in  the  mansion  or 
"palace"  of  Caiaphas.  A  commission,  consisting  mainly  of  the  chief 
priests,  with  Caiaphas  at  their  head,  had  been  appointed,  to  await  the 
result  of  the  treachery  of  Judas ;  for  the  whole  party,  in  its  alarm,  had 
extemporized  joint  action,  though  their  taking  any  judicial  steps  at  all  was 
irregular,  for  they  formed  no  legal  court  or  recognised  tribunal.     They 


THE    JEWISH    TEIAL.  679 

were  simply  acting  as  a  self -constituted  body — partisans  of  established 
ecclesiastical  order,  and  defenders  of  their  own  vested  rights — gathered 
at  the  summons  of  the  high  jiriest,  in  the  blind  excitement  of  fanaticism 
and  passion,  without  rules  of  judicial  proceeding  or  legal  standing  as  a 
court.  The  chief  Rabbis  of  the  school  of  Hillel  generally  kept  aloof  from 
svich  tumultuous  and  violent  proceedings,  which  were  already  too  common, 
and  left  tliem  to  those  of  the  fierce  school  of  Shammai,  and  to  the  merciless 
Sadducees.  The  name  Sanhedrim  is  given  in  the  Gospels  to  sucii  extem- 
porized assemblies,  the  word  meaning  only  "an  assembly."  But  they  do 
not  use  it  as  the  title  of  a  legal  tribunal.  It  was  before  a  mob  of  digni- 
taries,  not  a  "  court,"  that  Jesus  was  brought. 

The  commission  were  awaiting  the  arrival  of  their  prey,  in  the  hoiise  of 
Caiaphas,  who,  as  high  priest,  was  the  only  representative  of  Judaism 
recognised  by  the  Romans,  and,  therefore,  the  only  one  who  could  hold 
official  relations  with  Pilate,  to  ask  him  to  carry  out  their  predetermined 
resolution  to  put  Jesus  to  death. 


CHAPTER    LXI. 

THE    JEWISH    TRIAL. 

"PASSING  through  the  closed  porch,  or  archway,  into  the  inner  court, 
-■-  His  captors  led  Jesus  to  one  of  the  chambers  opening  from  it,  where 
His  judges  sat,  ready  to  go  through  the  mockery  of  a  trial.  The  Roman 
soldiers  had  been  halted  outside,  for  their  presence  would  have  been  a 
defilement ;  but  the  Jewish  serving  men  went  in  with  the  prisoner,  though 
only  the  few  required  accompanied  Him  to  the  inner  chaml^er.  The  ti'ibunal 
about  to  condemn  Him,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  was  not  a  legal  "  court," 
but  simply  a  self-constitiited  "  Committee  of  Public  Safety,"  extemporized 
by  the  excited  Temple  authorities  and  Rabbis,  like  the  Yigilance  Com- 
mittees of  America,  with  a  Jewish  Fouquier  Tinville  for  President,  in  the 
person  of  the  Sadducee  Caiaphas.  Knowing  the  illegality  of  their  pro- 
ceedings, they  could  only  venture  to  propose  the  framing  an  indictment 
to  lay  before  Pilate,  and  trust  to  their  violence  for  extorting  a  condem- 
nation from  him. 

The  hierarchy  were  masters  of  form,  and  knew  how  to  honour  the  appear- 
ance of  justice  while  mocking  the  reality.  In  imitation  of  the  traditional 
usages  of  the  Sanhedrim,  while  it  existed,  the  judges  before  whom  Jesus 
was  led,  sat  turbaned,  on  cushions  or  pillows,  in  Oriental  fashion,  with 
crossed  legs  and  unshod  feet,  in  a  half  circle ;  Caiaphas,  as  high  priest,  in 
the  centre,  and  the  chief  or  oldest,  according  to  precedence,  on  each  side. 
The  prisoner  was  placed,  standing,  before  Caiaphas ;  at  each  end  of  the 
semicircle  sat  a  scribe,  to  write  out  the  sentence  of  acquittal  or  condem- 
nation; some  bailiffs,  with  cords  and  thongs,  guarded  the  Accused,  while 
a  few  others  stood  behind,  to  call  witnesses,  and,  at  the  close,  to  carry  out 
the  decision  of  the  judges. 

Like  most  other  matters  in  the  Judaism  of  the  time,  nothing  could  be 
fairer,  or  more  attractive,  on  paper,  but  on  paper  alone,  than  the  rules  for 


G80  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

the  trial  o£  prisoners.  The  accused  was  iu  all  cases  to  be  held  innocent 
till  proved  guilty.  It  was  an  axiom,  that  "  the  Sanhedrim  was  to  save,  not 
to  destroy  life."  No  one  could  be  tried  and  condemned  in  his  absence,  and 
when  a  person  accused  was  brought  before  the  court,  it  was  the  duty  of 
the  president,  at  the  outset,  to  admouisli  the  witnesses  to  remember  the 
value  of  human  life,  and  to  take  care  that  tliey  forgot  nothing  that  would 
tell  in  the  prisoner's  favour.  Nor  was  he  left  undefended  ;  a  Baal-Ilil:),  or 
counsel,  was  appointed,  to  see  that  all  possible  was  done  for  liis  acquittal. 
Whatever  evidence  tended  to  aid  him  was  to  be  freely  admitted,  and  no 
member  of  the  court  who  had  once  spoken  in  favour  of  acquittal  could 
afterwards  vote  for  condemnation.  Tlie  votes  of  the  youngest  of  the 
judges  were  taken  first,  that  they  might  not  be  influenced  by  their  seniors. 
In  capital  charges,  it  required  a  majority  of  at  least  two  to  condemn,  and 
while  the  verdict  of  acquittal  could  be  given  at  once,  that  of  guilty  could 
only  be  pronounced  the  nest  day.  Hence,  capital  trials  could  not  begin 
on  the  day  preceding  a  Sabbath,  or  public  feast.  No  criminal  trial  could 
be  carried  through  in  the  night;  the  judges  who  condemned  any  one  to 
death  had  to  fast  all  the  day  before,  and  no  one  could  be  executed  on  the 
same  day  on  which  the  sentence  was  pronounced. 

Rules  so  precise  and  so  humane  condemn  the  whole  trial  of  Jesus,  before 
Caiajahas,  as  an  outrage.  It  was,  in  fact,  an  anticipation  of  the  jirostitu- 
tiou  of  justice  which  Josephus  records  as  common  in  the  later  days  of 
Jerusalem.  "Fictitious  tribunals  and  judicatures,"  he  tells  us,  "were 
set  up,  and  men  called  together  to  act  as  judges  though  they  had  no  real 
authority,  when  it  was  desired  to  secure  the  death  of  an  ojiponent."  As 
in  those  later  instances,  so  now  in  the  case  of  Jesus,  they  kept  up  the  form 
and  mockery  of  a  tribunal  to  the  close.  No  accuser  presenting  himself, 
the  judge  himself  took  the  office,  in  utter  violation  of  all  propriety.  Wit- 
nesses against  the  prisoner  alone  appeared,  and  were  eagerly  brought 
forward  by  the  judge  ;  but  not  a  single  witness  in  His  defence  was  called, 
though  the  law  gave  s.ich  the  preference.  No  Baal-Rib,  or  counsel,  was 
assigned  Him,  nor  were  any  facilities  provided,  or  even  the  possibility 
offered,  for  His  calling  witnesses  in  His  favour.  The  "  court,"  from  the 
first,  sought  to  condemn;  not  as  the  law  required,  to  acquit.  There  was 
no  attempt,  as  was  usual,  to  ascertain  the  trustworthiness  of  the  hostile 
evidence,  nor  any  warning,  beforehand,  to  those  who  gave  it,  of  the  moral 
and  legal  offence  of  untruthfulness.  So  keenly,  indeed,  has  the  judicial 
murder  of  Jesus  been  felt  by  the  Jewish  nation,  in  later  times,  that  the 
doctrine  was  afterwards  invented  in  the  Talmud,  that  any  one  who  gave 
himself  out  as  a  false  Messiah,  or  who  led  the  people  astray  from  the 
doctrines  of  their  fathers,  could  be  tried  and  condemned  the  same  day,  or 
in  the  night.  Yet,  in  contradiction  to  this,  the  monstrous  fable  was  also 
coined,  that  a  crier  called  aloud,  for  forty  days,  before  Christ's  condemna- 
tion, for  witnesses  in  His  favour  to  come  forward. 

If  we  try  to  discover  by  what  law  it  was  possible  to  condemn  Jesus 
legally,  it  will  be  found  that,  provided  He  could  not  be  proved  guilty  of 
some  civil  crime,  there  were  no  written  laws  whatever  to  which  Caiaphas 
and  his  assessors  could  appeal  against  Him.     The  Old  Testament  had  not 


THE    JEWISH    TKIAL.  681 

anticipated  the  case  of  any  one  calling  himself  the  Messiah,  whether  in  a 
national  or  spiritual  sense,  and  the  charges  so  often  made  against  Him, 
of  having  broken  the  laws  of  the  Sabbath,  even  if  He  could  not  have  de- 
fended Himself  against  them,  were  not  punishable,  by  the  laws  of  the  day 
Avitli  death.  The  grounds  on  which  the  theocracy  could  press  for  a  capital 
conviction  lay  wholly  outside  the  law  of  Moses,  and  even  of  those  expan- 
sions and  modifications  of  it  which  formed  the  current  law.  A  pretext 
had  to  be  invented  for  the  course  taken.  His  real  offence  was  that  the 
Church  authorities  felt  He  was  diffusing  a  spiritual  influence,  which 
if  left  to  develop  and  spread,  would  inevitably  imdermine  the  corrupt  theo- 
cracy, and  with  it,  their  own  power  and  woi-ldly  interests.  To  gain  a  brief 
respite,  they  were  bent  on  putting  Him  to  death,  thongh  His  lofty  purity 
of  life  and  morals  far  transcended  the  highest  ideals  hitherto  known,  and 
His  Divine  goodness  was  altogether  unique.  They  did  not  see  that,  to 
kill  Him,  was  only  to  hasten  the  ruin  of  the  cause  they  sought  to  uphold. 

But  His  spiritual  glory  remained  hidden  to  their  wilful  blindness,  and 
the  shadow  into  which  it  threw  their  own  shortcomings  roused  only  fana- 
tical rage.  Since,  therefore,  they  could  bring  no  capital  charge  recognised 
in  the  Law,  against  Him,  there  remained  nothing  except  to  feign  horror, 
as  Jews,  at  the  presumption  of  one  so  much  below  them  in  w^orldly  station, 
raising  Himself  above  the  divinely  revealed  laws  of  Moses,  and  even  claim- 
ing equality  with.  God ;  and  as  hj'pocritical  friends  of  the  Eoman,  whom 
they  in  reality  hated  intensely,  to  pretend  indignation  and  fear  at  the 
popular  disturbance  and  disloyalty  to  the  Emperor,  which  they  affected  to 
believe  would  result  from  His  claim  as  Messiah  King.  Only  on  this  last 
ground  could  they  secure  the  indispensable  assistance  of  Eoman  power,  to 
put  Him  to  death. 

Caiaphas  now,  at  last,  had  his  enemy  face  to  face.  He  would  make  Him 
feel  what  it  was  to  denounce  the  priesthood  as  He  had  done,  and  to  hold 
them  up  to  the  obloquy  of  the  nation,  as  careless  of  the  charge  entrusted 
to  them,  by  His  taking  it  on  Himself  to  interfere  with  their  Temple  juris- 
diction, in  His  puritanical  "  cleansing"  of  the  sacred  enclosures.  He  had 
brought  lasting  odium  on  them,  by  the  contrast  between  His  zeal  in  this 
matter,  and  their  alleged  neglect,  in  allowing  so-called  abuses.  The  fana-. 
tical  reformer  who  would  turn  the  world  upside  down,  was  now  standing, 
bound,  before  him,  and  he  had  Him  at  his  mercy.  The  rest  of  the  self- 
constituted  judges  had  their  own  injuries  to  avenge,  for  had  not  they,  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  teachers  of  the  nation,  been  denounced  with  as 
unsparing  contempt  as  the  knot  of  high  caste  Sadducees  ?  Caiaphas  had 
long  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do.  The  form  of  a  trial  might  be  necessary, 
but  the  result  was  determined  beforehand.  He  had  already  counselled 
both  Sadducees  and  Pharisees  to  lay  aside  mutual  disputes,  and  unite 
against  Jesus,  as  one  Avho  endangered  their  common  interests,  and  to 
sacrifice  Him  without  hesitation.  Policy,  He  had  urged,  demanded  that 
He  be  at  once  put  to  death,  to  prevent  His  overthrowing  the  whole  ecclesi- 
astical constitution,  with  which  their  welfare  and  dignity  were  identified. 
The  sentence  was  thus  proclaimed  before  Caiaphas  took  his  seat  that 
night ;  the  judge  had  already  openly  said  that  he  intended  to  condemn. 


G82  'J'lii'i  LIKE  or  ciruisT. 

Till'  wholo  procciuliiiiJtM  ^\■cvv.,  in  I'ucL,  simj)!}'  m,  .siiidoMi  hypocrisy,  to  socnro 
ilic  iicccRsary  aid  oO  llio  lloiuiin  oxccutioncr. 

|)(';i,(lly  cnciiiics  iiX  oMut  tinu-s,  l-iio  inoniLcra  ol'  iho  "  coiii'L  "  wcro  now 
on  l;iu>  iiio.:!,  iiiniivhlo  t.(>nns,  in  Llicir  anxicLy  (,o  liiniL  down  iJio  comnioii  foo. 
'J'iio  proceeding's  hco-fvn  by  (Jaiaplias,  as  lie  glaiuunl  licsrccly  afc  Ins  prisoner, 
askinu;  varions  (|ii(^sLioiis  rcspocliiiif:;  His  discijilcs  and  Ills  icacliin"^: 
Wliy  JIc  ga,L]ioro(i  so  many  followers  P  Wiiab  Ho  liad  moaiiL  hy  sendint^ 
tlicnn  llii'on.ti,li  (Jalileo  and  Jiulca,  annoiincinpf  the  coming  of  ilio  Kingdom 
ol'  (iodi^  Why,  a  i'cw  dnys  before,  at  His  eniranoo  to  the  city,  He  had 
allowed  tlic  crowds  to  hail  Him  as  tlio  Messiah  P  What  llo  meant  ])y  tho 
Kingdom  of  the -Messiah,  and  why  1  hi  did  not  forinaHy  and  pnblicly  pro- 
claim Jiimself  tho  Christ  P 

Jesus  carcfnlly  avoided  any  allusion  io  His  disciples  in  IFis  answcn-,  for 
to  have  njforrcd  i*o  Mieni,  might  liirve  brouglil.  I  hem  inLo  danger.  As  to 
Himself,  the  questions  needed  no  iiupiiry;  the  matter  spoke  for  itself.  "  1 
liavo  taught  frankly  and  without  reserve,"  said  lie;  "1  have  no  sei'reb 
docitrines;  1  have  spoken  overyHiing  T  had  to  toacli,  publiely,  in  the  ayna- 
gogucs  and  schools  of  the  hind,  before  fricinds  ;ui(l  (^lemioa,  and  lioro  in 
.birusahnn,  in  tho 'remplc,  whei-e  1.  had  i'or  hearers  tho  peo])le  assenibl(>d 
fi-oin  all  parts.  I  have  taught  nothing  sccvctly— nothing  cxeei)t  in  these 
])nblie  places.  Why  do  you  ask  mo  P  ask  some  of  the  multitudes  who  have 
lieiird  me.  'i'liey  know  what  I  have  siiid  to  them,  and  what  they  say  will 
seem  to  you  more  impartial  th;ni  :i.ny  words  of  mine.  'J'h(!  Tjaw  rcMpiircs 
that  wilnesses  should  lirst  b(!  exainined  in  any  trial." 

]}nt  an  lionesl.  and  formaJ  inipiii'y  of  I  his  kind,  tliongh  n(!cessavy  by  the 
Law,  was  no  part  of  the  plan  of  Oaiaphas  and  his  assessors.  They  sought 
oidy  to  get  Jesus  handed  over  to  tho  Romans  as  soon  as  possil)l(>,  that  Jle 
might  be  lie^'ond  the  hopeof  resoiio  when  i\\r,  ]ieople,  among  Avhoin  lie  had 
so  many  supporters,  awoke  in  the  morning,  'i'hat  llo  should  dare;  Io  dii'cet 
tho  high  [iriest  as  to  his  duty,  and  should  presume  to  throw  on  tho  court 
tho  rightfid  task  of  proving  ilis  guilt,  was  a  fi-csh  oR'ence,  and  provoked 
fierce  looks  and  angry  words  fi'ouT  tho  bench.  Tiie  def(ince  was  at  oneo 
rudely  inlcri'iipted,  For  onc!  of  tho  attendants  standing  by— Avhelher  of  his 
own  accord,  because  ho  saw  tho  feeling  of  tho  judges,  or  at  a,  hint  from 
]  bmnas  or  Caiaphas — in  utter  violation  of  judicial  rules  or  connnon  decency, 
forthwith  struck  tho  prisoner  on  tho  mouth,  with  his  hand,  to  silence  Him. 
"Auswerest  thou  tho  high  i)rit;st  thus  boldly  P"  said  he.  Nothing  could 
have  ])lcased  the  bench  better,  and  tlu^y  ditl  not  attemjjb  to  rebuko  tho 
olTender.  It  fa^ihul,  liowever,  to  disturb  the  calm  self-possession  and 
dignity  of  .Tosus.  "If  I  have  ppokcn  what  is  false,"  Ho  replied,  "  ]irovo 
that  I  hav(!  (lone  so,  bnl-  if  wliiit  I  say  bo  right-,  why  do  yon  sli'ik<'  mo 
violently  thus  P  No  one  has  a  right  to  take  the  lii,w  in  his  own  h;inds, 
much  less  ii  sei'vant  of  the  court." 

The  iippeal  Io  th(!  known  and  cslablished  forms  of  trinl  had  not  hmn 
lost.  Ifostile  wil  iii'S!-<es  had  already  been  sought  to  bring  homo  to  JosUH, 
if  possible,  some  ciiiu'ge  of  l'als(!  doctrine  or  seditions  language,  but  nono 
had  l)oen  found.  The  oidy  cnichMice  to  b(!  h;ul  would  not  sullice,  even  in 
tnieli  ail  assemhly,  to  est  aJilish  a  capi  t  a.l  eharj^-eof  which  the  liomaus  would 


THE   JfiWISII    TRIAL.  683 

lako  cogiiiziiiicc.  There  wcvo  inaiiy,  doubtlosH,  wlio  liiul  lioard  liim  uso 
liuifTiiago  ■which  had  givoii  llio  llaljbi.s  olTcncc — such  as,  "Thy  hIwh  ara 
i'oi'f^ivcu  tlicc;"  •words  regarded  as  blasphemy,  and,  therefore,  piiiiiKhablo 
with  death,  liy  Jewish  hiw ;  but  they  Avanted  to  condemn  llim  on  a  cliargo 
recognised  by  lioman  huv.  They  liatl  tried  Ijy  spies,  for  montiis  Ijack,  to 
draw  from  Him  something  they  couhl  twist  into  an  attack  on  the  jiational 
rebgion,  or  the  Roman  government,  Inil;  iiad  lulled.  Tt  Avas  liiird  to  git  a 
tolerable  i)retext  for  condemning  IJim. 

Such  evidence  as  they  had  was  now,  Iiowevcr,  brought  forward,  in  I  In; 
hope  that  it  would  at  least  prove  Ilim  to  be  "a  deceiver  of  the  people," 
stirring  them  up,  and  exciting  them  against  the  laws  of  Moses,  as  delined 
by  tlie  iiabbis.  But  it  was  a  fundamental  rule  of  Jewish  jurisprudentjc, 
that  condemnation  could  only  follow  the  concuri'cnt  testimony  of,  at  least, 
two  witnesses.  Some,  however,  who  came  forward,  had  notiiing  relevant 
to  say,  aiul  others  conti'adie^ted  themselves.  Ilis  last  discoui'ses  were, 
doubtless,  the  special  crime  in  the  eyes  of  Ilis  accusers.  Little  could  1)C 
said  about  Ilis  ovation  on  entering  Jerusalem,  except  that  lie  had  not 
refused  it,  nor  was  oven  the  expulsion  of  the  buyers  and  sellers  from  the 
Temple  brouglit  up,  for  the  spirit  that  dictated  it  was  evidently  noble, 
however  the  acit  itself  might  bo  challenged.  The  strong  invectives  against 
the  collcctivo  hierarchy  oltered  a  safer  ground  for  accusation.  Unfortu- 
nately for  tlio  judges,  suitable  witnesses  were  not  to  bo  found.  At  tho 
best,  those  who  came  forward  garbled,  or  misunderstood  His  words,  as 
the  hierarchy  themselves  afterwards,  bel'oi'o  I'ilato,  twisted  those  I'espeet- 
ing  tho  tribute  money  into  a  directly  opposite  sense.  Ibit  even  thus,  tho 
testimony  amounted  to  nothing.  Time  was  jiasHiiig  da)igerously  fast, 
without  anything  done. 

At  last  one  witness  appeared,  who  .alleged  that  ho  had  ]i('ar<]  Jesus  say, 
"  i'uU  down  this  Temple,  it  is  only  the  Avork  of  man,  iuid  I  will  !ii  Ihi-eo 
days  build  another,  not  made  with  hands."  Others  agi'eed  that  He  Jiad 
said  words  which  seemed  intended  to  bring  the  Tenqde  into  contempt;  an 
offence  so  grave  that  it  was  afterwards  made  a  caj)ital  charge  against  tho 
first  martyr,  Stei)hen,  that  he  liad"  spoken  blasphemous  words  against 
this  holy  place;  "  but  their  statements  did  not  tally,  and  their  wilne;;s  was 
therefore  worthless. 

Meanwhile,  Jesus  had  stood  silent.  Even  to  charges  so  hateful  to  Jewi.sh 
cars  as  contempt  of  the  Temple,  lie  liad  made  no  answer,  IIo  know  it 
would  bo  idle  to  speak  before  such  a  ti'ibunal,  a?id  ke]it  a  dignified  silence, 
n^o  tho  judges,  on  tho  other  hand,  they  seemed  of  tho  greatest  weight, 
Caiaphas,  a  true  inquisitor,  could  no  longer  prescrvo  ofFicial  calmness. 
Spi'ingiug  from  his  couch,  and  standing  up  in  front  of  it,  he  demanded  if 
Je.sus  Iiad  nothing  to  say  in  Ilis  own  defence  against  all  this.  What  did 
I  lis  silence  mean  ?  Was  it  a  confession  of  guiltP  IJnt  He  still  remained 
silent.  Tho  matter  spoke  for  itself;  tins  testimony  given  against  llitn  Avas 
discordant  and  worthless.  If  His  ])ast  life  could  not  secure  His  actjuittal, 
mere  words  were  vain.  To  use  His  own  earli(,'r  saying,  they  would  bo 
])ear]s  cast  before  swine,  who  would  turn  again  and  rend  Him.  Self-con- 
scious and  kingly.  He  demeaned  Himself  with  a  lofty  composure   \,\\\iv 


084  TUB    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

impressed  even  His  judges.  He  would  let  violence  and  falsehood  run 
their  course.  He  would  not  recognise  the  tribunal,  nor  do  honour  to  its 
members,  for  He  knew  that  they  were  determined  that  He  should  die, 
innocent  or  guilty,  to  serve  their  own  ends. 

Caiaphas  might  have  closed  the  examination  at  this  ])oint,  and  have 
taken  the  votes  of  the  Commission.  But  with  quick,  hypocritical  aeutc- 
ness,  he  felt  that  the  charge  best  sustained  was  an  offence  only  in  Jewish 
eyes ;  that  the  evidence  in  support  of  it  was  open  to  criticism,  and  that 
the  silence  of  the  prisoner  might  not,  after  all,  be  an  admission  of  guilt. 
His  pride,  moreover,  was  touched  by  such  an  attitude  towards  himself  the 
primate,  and  he  would  force  an  answer,  if  possible,  to  save  his  own  dignity. 
It  would,  besides,  be  better  to  go  no  further  into  matters  which  might 
protract  the  sitting,  and  spoil  the  plot,  by  letting  morning  return  before 
Jesus  was  in  the  safe  hands  of  the  Komans.  True  to  the  serpent-cunning 
of  the  house  of  Hannas,  he  determined  to  bring  things  to  a  head  by 
making  Him,  if  possible,  compromise  Himself  at  once  with  Jewish  opinion 
and  Roman  fears.  He  hoped  to  worm  out  what  could  be  distorted  into  a 
civil  offence;  for  His  keen  knowledge  of  men  told  him,  that,  while  fitly 
silent  and  dignified  hitherto,  his  prisoner  would  give  a  frank  reply,  and 
reveal  His  secret  thoughts  when  honour  demanded  it.  He  was  evidently 
about  to  die,  as  He  had  been  charged  with  living,  an  enthusiast  and  zealot. 

Looking  straight  at  the  accused,  the  mitred  hypocrite,  in  his  white  robes, 
with  practised  official  solemnity,  went  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  matter, 
by  the  demand,  uttered  in  Aramaic,  the  common  speech  of  the  Jewish 
courts  as  of  the  nation,  "  I  put  you  on  your  oath  by  the  living  God,  whose 
curse  falls  on  those  Avho  swear  falsely  by  Him,  and  require  you  to  tell  us 
whether  you  arc  the  Malcha  Meschicha — the  King  Messiah — the  Son  of 
God— Ever  Blessed  ?  " 

The  long  foreseen  moment  had  come,  when  an  open  claim,  which  He  had 
hitherto  left  to  be  inferred  from  His  acts  and  figurative  expressions,  rather 
than  openly  stated,  would  bring  on  Him  swift  sentence  of  death.  Caiaphas 
knew  that  many  believed  Him  to  be  the  Messiah ;  that  He  Himself  had 
not  refused  the  awful  name,  but  had,  rather,  in  His  discourses,  justified  its 
being  given  Him ;  and  that  a  few  days  before.  He  had  allowed  the  tliou- 
sands  of  Galiltean  pilgrims,  who  greeted  His  entrance  to  Jerusalem,  to 
salute  Him  by  it.  But  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  had  decided  that  He 
neither  was,  nor  could  be,  the  Messiah,  and,  hence,  in  their  eyes,  His 
claiming  openly  to  be  so  would  be  a  crimen  lessee  majestatls — blasphemous 
high  treason  against  the  true  Sovereign  of  the  Land,  Jehovah.  He  had 
hitherto  evaded  a  direct  answer,  except  in  rare  cases,  because  the  time  had 
not  yet  come  for  His  openly  declaring  Himself.  To  have  done  so  before 
all  hope  of  longer  life  was  passed,  would  have  cut  short  His  public  work 
in  founding  His  Kingdom. 

But  the  supreme  moment  had  now  arrived.  With  kingly  dignity,  in  the 
face  of  certain  death  for  His  Avords,  and  in  solemn  answer  to  the  appeal 
to  "  the  living  God  "  as  to  their  truth,  Jesus  calmly  replied  to  the  adjura- 
tion: "  If  I  tell  you,  ye  will  not  believe,  and  if  I  ask  questions  that  would 
prove  my  highest  claims  you  would  not  answer.    Thoii  hast  said  the  Truth 


THE   JEWISH   TRIAL.  685 

— I  AM  the  Malcha  Mescliiclia — the  King  Messiah — the  Sou  of  God  aud 
Son  of  man.  In  my  present  guise  ye  will  see  me  no  more ;  but  when  ye 
have  slain  me,  I,  the  Son  of  man,  will  forthwith  sit  on  the  right  hand  of 
the  Majesty  of  God,  and  when  ye  see  me  next  it  will  be  sitting  there,  and 
coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven." 

This  declaration  might  have  seemed  sutficiently  explicit,  but  the  excite- 
ment of  the  judges,  true  Orientals,  liad  grown  ungovernable.  Kising  ou 
their  cushions,  one  and  all  demanded,  with  loud  voices,  "  Art  Thou,  then, 
the  Son  of  God  ?  "     "  You  have  said  it,"  replied  Jesus,  "  axd  I  am." 

They  had  gained  their  end.  Hearing  witnesses  would  have  required 
time,  and  their  whole  scheme  would  have  miscarried,  if  Jerusalem  woke 
and  the  Galilrean  pilgrims  learned,  while  a  rescue  was  still  possible,  the 
secret  arrest  through  the  night,  of  their  fellow-countryman,  whom  many 
of  them  esteemed  a  prophet  of  Jehovah,  if  not  the  very  Messiah. 

Caiaphas  played  his  part  well.  Quivering  with  passion,  and  triumphant 
at  his  success,  he  forgot  the  pi'actised  coldness  of  the  Sadducee,  aud  once 
more  springing  from  his  couch  with  well-feigned  horror  at  the  words  of 
Jesus,  though  they  were  precisely  what  he  had  wished,  rent  the  bosom  Of 
his  priestly  robe  of  fine  linen,  as  if  it  were  too  narrow  to  let  him  breathe 
after  hearing  such  blasphemy.  He  forgot  that  it  was  the  worst  of  blas- 
phemy for  his  own  lips  to  use  the  name  of  Jehovah  as  a  mere  cloak  for 
crime  aud  Avickedness !  Jesus  had  spoken  with  the  calmness  of  truth  and 
innocence.  He  had  applied  to  Himself  words  of  Daniel  and  of  the  Psalms, 
univei'sally  understood  of  the  Messiah,  and  had  predicted  His  sitting 
henceforth  with  Jehovah  on  the  throne  of  heaven,  and  descending  in 
Divine  majesty  to  judge  the  earth,  though,  while  he  spoke.  He  was  at  the 
very  threshold  of  a  shameful  death. 

"  He  has  blasphemed  ! "  cried  Caiaphas.  "  "Wliat  need  is  there  to  hear 
more  witnesses  ?  You  have  heard  the  blasphemy  from  His  own  lips.  He 
gives  Himself  out  as  the  true  Messianic  Son  of  God,  which  we  have 
already  decided  He  is  not.     What  seems  good  to  you,  m.y  colleagues  ?  " 

In  an  irregular,  illegal,  self-constituted  court,  whose  members  had 
already  approved  the  cold-blooded  counsel  of  Caiaphas,  to  put  the  prisoner 
to  death,  guilty  or  innocent,  and  thus  quench  the  fire  He  had  kindled,  in 
His  own  blood,  no  evidence  or  want  of  it  could  have  secured  an  acquittal. 
Too  many  private  and  class  grudges,  and  too  many  vested  rights,  lent 
weight  to  any  pretext  for  a  judicial  murder.  The  very  humility  aud  the 
purely  spiritual  aims  of  Jesus  were,  themselves,  a  deadly  offence ;  for  their 
Jewish  pride  flattered  itself  that  the  Messiah  would  wield  supernatural 
powers  to  restore  the  old  Theocracy,  and  make  Israel  the  head  of  the  nations 
instead  of  hated  Home.  Then,  was  He  not  a  Galilasan— one  of  a  race  they 
despised  ?  It  might  be  true  that  He  wrought  miracles,  but  one  who  wilfully 
broke  the  Law,  as  He  openly  did,  by  Sabbath  healing— and  ivlw  knew  what 
else  ?— must  work  them  by  help  from  Beelzebub,  not  Jehovah. 

And,  besides,  had  not  the  high  priest  told  them  that  it  was  no  great 
harm  if  a  single  man  were  saci-ificed  for  the  common  good,  even  if  he  were 
innocent?  When,  moreover,  did  ferocious  bigotry  fail  to  identify  its  cry 
for  blood  with  pious  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God  ? 


68G  THE   LIFE    or   CHRIST. 

All  voted  tliab  farther  investigation  was  useless ;  that  on  His  own  con- 
fession Jesus  was  worthy  of  death. 

They  had,  at  last,  their  wish.  All  charges  affecting  the  Temple,  or 
Judaism,  would  have  raised  only  the  contemptuous  laugh  of  the  lloman 
Procurator.  But  now  that  Jesus  had  claimed  to  be  the  Messiah,  lie  could 
be  represented  to  Pilate  as  a  State  criminal,  delivered  up  for  an  attempt 
against  the  imperial  rights  of  Tiberius. 

The  formal,  preliminary  examination  was  over,  but  its  result  needed  to 
be  confirmed  by  a  larger  gathering  of  the  hierarchy.  It  was  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  some  hours  must  elapse  before  the  sentence 
could  be  formally  ratified. 

Meanwhile,  Jesus  was  left  in  charge  of  the  rough  Temple  police,  while 
the  judges  separated  for  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep.  There  was  nothing,  now, 
to  restrain  the  coarse  natui-es  to  whom  the  condemned  prisoner  had  been 
consigned.  One  under  sentence  of  death  was  always,  in  these  rough  ages, 
the  sport  and  mockery  of  his  guards,  and  those  in  charge  of  Jesus,  made 
worse  than  common  by  the  example  of  the  judges,  vented  their  cruelty  on 
Him  with  the  fiercest  brutality.  Their  passions,  indeed,  intensified  their 
bitterness,  for  they  were  fierce  Jewish  bigots.  He  was  to  die  as  a  false 
prophet,  and  as  such  they  treated  Him,  racking  their  ingenuity  to  invent 
insult  and  injury.  Having  blindfolded  Him,  some  struck  Him  violently 
on  the  head  with  their  fists,  or  perhaps  with  the  vine-stick  which  Eoman 
centurions  and  other  officials  carried  as  their  sign  of  rank,  and  were  wont 
to  use  on  the  face  or  head  of  the  soldiers— for  some  of  the  captors  of  Jesus 
had  such  staves  with  them — others  struck  Him  with  their  open  hands, 
while  still  others,  adding  the  greatest  indignity  an  Oriental  could  offer, 
spat  in  His  face;  crying,  as  they  insulted  and  tortm^cd  Him,  "Prophecy 
to  us.  Thou  Messiah,  who  was  it  that  did  it  ?  "  The  hands  they  had  bound 
had  healed  the  sick  and  raised  the  dead ;  the  lips  they  smote  had  calmed 
the  winds  and  the  waves.  One  word,  and  the  splendours  of  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration  would  have  filled  the  chamber ;  one  word,  and  the  menials 
now  sporting  with  Him  at  their  will  would  have  perished.  But,  as  He 
had  begun  and  continued.  He  would  end — as  self -restrained  in  the  use  of 
His  awful  powers  on  His  own  behalf  as  if  He  had  been  the  most  helpless 
of  men.  Divine  patience  and  infinite  love  knew  no  wearying.  He  had 
but  to  will  it  and  He  would  walk  free,  but  He  came  to  die  for  man,  and 
He  would  not  shrink  from  doing  so. 

While  His  examination  had  been  proceeding,  the  central  court,  which 
seems  to  have  been  paved,  was  the  waiting  place  of  the  servants  of  the 
several  judges,  and  of  the  underlings  of  the  high  priest,  and  the  Temple 
watch.  John  and  Peter,  recovering  from  their  first  panic,  and  anxious  to 
see  what  became  of  their  Master,  had  followed  at  a  distance,  till  He  was 
brought  to  the  house  of  Caiaphas.  The  door  of  the  outer  court,  or  porch, 
had  been  closed,  to  prevent  the  entrance  of  any  one  likely  to  spread  an 
alarm  and  bring  about  a  rescue  ;  but  John,  happening  to  be  known  to  the 
household,  or,  perhaps,  to  the  high  priest  himself,  was  readily  admitted. 
Meanwhile,  Peter  remained  shut  out,  but  at  John's  solicitation  was 
presently  admitted  by  the  maid  v/ho  kept  the  door. 


THE    JEWISH   TKIAL.  687 

A  fire  of  wood  kiudled  in  the  open  court  in  tlie  chilly  April  night,  had 
attracted  all  round  it,  Peter  among  the  rest,  by  its  cheerful  blaze.  He  sat 
by  the  light  with  weary  heart,  woiidering  what  the  end  woiLld  be,  and  not 
without  alarm  for  his  own  safety,  in  case  he  should  be  recognised,  and 
charged  with  his  violence  in  the  garden.  Meanwhile,  the  door-keeper, 
who,  perhaps,  had  seen  him  in  attendance  on  Jesus  in  the  Women's  Court 
of  the  Temple,  sauntered  like  others,  to  the  fire,  and  with  a  woman's 
aljruptncss,  after  gazing  at  him  steadily,  put  the  question  directly  to  him : 
"  Art  thou,  also,  one  of  this  man's  disciples  ? "  Confused  and  oflE  his 
guard,  he  said  nothing ;  but  she  would  not  let  him  go.  "  Thou,  also,  wasfc 
with  Jesus  of  Galilee,"  she  continued — repeating  to  those  round  her, 
'■'  Certainly  this  man,  also,  was  with  Him."  "  Woman,"  said  Peter,  stam- 
mering out  the  words  in  mortal  terror  for  his  life,  "  I  do  not  know  Him ; 
I  do  not  know  what  you  mean."  But  his  conscience  was  ill  at  ease,  and 
his  fears  grew  apace.  He  could  no  longer  hide  his  confusion,  and  went 
off  into  the  darkness  of  the  porch.  His  inexorable  inquisitor  would  not, 
however,  let  him  escape.  He  had  hardly  come  to  the  light  again,  after  a 
time,  when  she  once  more  scanned  him,  and,  determined  to  justify  herself, 
began  to  speak  of  him  to  the  serving  men  and  slaves.  "  He  is  one  of  them. 
He  ivas  with  Jesus  of  ISTazareth."  Irritated  and  alarmed,  and  losing  all 
presence  of  mind,  he  repeated  his  denial  with  an  oath.  "I  do  not  know 
the  man.     I  am  not  one  of  His  disciples.     I  swear  I  am  not." 

His  stout  assertions  gave  him  an  hour's  respite  and  peace,  but  his 
troubles  were  not  over,  for  the  maid  had  called  attention  to  him,  and  his 
bearing  had  excited  suspicion.  At  last,  one  of  the  slaves  of  the  high 
priest,  a  kinsman  of  the  wounded  Malchus,  renewed  the  subject  by  asking 
Peter  directly,  "  Did  I  not  see  thee,  as  I  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the 
garden,  just  as  they  were  coming  out?"  "You  never  did,"  said  Peter. 
"  I  was  not  there."  "  Why,  your  very  speech  shows  that  you  are  of  them 
— you  ivere  with  Him,"  cried  angry,  fierce  voices,  "  you  are  a  Galilasan— 
we  hear  it  in  your  words." 

Peter  now  lost  all  control  of  himself.  He  had  tried  to  strengthen  his 
last  denial  by  a  solemn  oath,  but  now  burst  into  curses  and  imprecations 
on  himself,  if  he  had  not  spoken  truth,  in  saying  that  he  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  Jesus !  In  the  midst  of  his  excitement  a  cock-crow  fell 
on  his  ears,  and,  at  the  sound,  his  Master,  still  before  His  murderers  in 
the  room  opening  into  the  courtyard,  tarned  and  looked  him  full  in  the 
face,  with  those  loving,  but  now  reproachful,  eyes,  in  the  light  of  which 
Peter  had  so  long  found  his  sweetest  joy. 

It  was  enough.  The  glance,  like  lightning  revealing  an  abyss,  brought 
back  to  its  nobler  self  the  honest  heart  that  for  a  time  had  been  alarmed 
into  superficial  nnfaithfuhiess,  and  threw  an  awful  brightness  into  the 
depths  of  sin  on  whose  edge  he  stood.  All  his  unmanly  weakness  and 
wretched  fear  rose  in  his  thoughts,  and,  with  them,  the  remembrance  of 
his  boastings,  so  miserably  belied.  Christ's  words,  which  he  had  so 
warmly  repudiated— that,  before  the  cock  crew,  he  would  deny  Him 
thrice— had  come  true.  What  a  contrast  between  the  grand  strength  of 
his  Master,  and  his  own  weakness  ! 


688  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

yiuirae  and  aorrow,  mingled  on  the  moment  with  a  yearning  hope  of 
forgiveness,  overpowered  him,  and  he  did  now,  what  he  shoukl  have  done 
earlier,  went  out,  and  wept  bitterly.  It  is  a  touching,  and  beautiful 
tradition,  true  to  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance,  if  not  as  a  historical 
reality,  that,  all  his  life  long,  the  rememln-ance  of  this  night  never  lefb 
him,  and  that,  morning  by  morning,  he  rose  at  the  hour  when  the  look  of 
his  Master  had  entered  liis  soul,  to  pray  once  more  for  pardon. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  fourth  watch,  and  before  da3'l)reak,  the  heads 
of  the  theocracy,  true  to  precedent,  which  required  that  the  whole  Sanhe- 
drim, while  it  existed,  should  meet  to  ratify  a  sentence  of  death,  had 
extemporized  a  semblance  of  the  old  High  Court  of  the  Xation,  in  some 
suitable  building.  Thither  Jesus  was  now  led,  under  escort  of  Temple 
police  and  retainers  of  the  high  priest,  to  appear  before  the  notables  of 
Israel.  The  chiefs  of  the  priestly  courses,  and  other  dignitaries  of  the 
Temple,  with  a  number  of  elders  and  Eabbis,  had  gathered  in  the  fading 
darkness,  old  though  most  of  them  were,  to  take  part  in  the  condemnation 
of  the  Hated  One.  The  proceedings  were,  hoAvever,  only  formal — to  hear 
the  sentence  of  the  Commission  and  to  endorse  it.  This  done,  the  way 
was  clear  for  handing  Him  over  to  Pilate. 

In  tlie  eyes  of  those  who  thus  unanimously  confirmed  the  fatal  sentence, 
He  was  a  criminal  of  the  worst  dye ;  for,  in  their  opinion.  He  had  blas- 
phemed with  audacious  boldness,  by  claiming  to  be  the  King  Messiah,  the 
Son  of  God,  the  long-expected  Deliverer  of  the  nation,  sent  to  it  from 
heaven.  ISTo  one  had  ever  before  laid  claim  to  the  sacred  name;  for, 
though  many  Messiahs  rose  in  later  years,  no  one,  as  yet,  had  assumed  the 
tremendous  dignity.  Proof  more  than  enough  to  establish  His  highest 
claims,  offered  itself  in  His  life  and  words  and  works ;  Imt  passion  and 
prejudice  had  hardened  their  hearts  and  blinded  their  judgments.  The 
worst  among  them  would  never  have  dared  to  proceed  against  Him,  had 
they  believed  Him  really  the  Messiah.  "  I  know,"  says  St.  Peter,  "  that 
you  acted  in  ignorance,  as  did  also  j'our  rulers."  But  it  was  the  ignorance 
that  had  refused  the  light.  Had  they  been  honest  and  honourable,  the 
first  point  to  have  been  settled  would  have  been,  at  least  to  hear  what  the 
Accused  had  to  say  in  His  own  favour.  They  had  constituted  themselves 
the  vindicators  of  the  Law  and  the  Prophets,  and  it  was  their  elementary 
duty  to  hear  the  prisoner's  exposition  of  the  statements  of  both,  respecting 
the  matter  in  hand.  He  had  owned  Himself  the  Messiah,  and  for  doing 
so,  without  giving  Him  the  opportunity  of  supporting  His  claim,  they  voted 
the  sentence  of  death  by  noisy  acclamation.  Law  and  tradition  demanded 
a  second  full  hearing  of  the  case,  but  they  thrust  both  aside  in  their  zeal 
to  get  Him  condemned. 


CHAPTER  LXIL 

BEFORE   PILATE. 

r  I IHE  decision  of  the  Jewish  authorities  having  been  duly  signed  and 
-^  sealed^,  and  Jesus  once  more  securely  bound,  He  was  led  off,  strongly 
guarded  from  rescue,  to  the  official  residence  of  Pilate,  on  Mount  Zion.     It 


BEFORE    PILATE.  G89 

was  still  early,  but  Eastern  life  anticij)ates  tlic  day,  for  the  heat  of  uooii 
requires  rest  during  the  liours  busiest  Avith  us.  The  way  ran  from  the 
West  Hall  of  the  Temple  over  the  TyroiJoeon,  by  a  Ijridge,  and  across  the 
open  space  of  the  Xystus,  with  its  pillared  porches.  The  palace  of  Herod, 
now  Pilate's  head-quarters,  lay  just  beyond— the  proud  residence  of  the 
Roman  knight  who  held  the  government  for  the  Emperor  Tiberius.  It 
was  inhabited  for  only  a  few  weeks  or  days  at  a  time ;  but  noAV,  during  the 
Passover,  the  procurator  took  care  to  be  present,  to  repress  at  once  any 
popular  movement  for  national  freedom,  which  the  spring  air,  the  feast 
itself,  and  the  vast  gathering  of  the  nation,  might  excite. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Jesus  entered  the  gates  of  a  king's  palace — the 
home  of  "  men  in  soft  raiment " — entered  it  as  a  prisoner.  He  was  to  | 
stand  before  a  man  who  has  come  down  to  us  as  one  of  the  most  nn-  ■ 
I'ighteous,  cruel,  arbitrary,  and  hateful ;  a  man  rightly  named  Pilate,  the 
"  Javelin-man,"  for  it  seemed  his  delight  to  launch  cruelties  and  scoi-ns  on  \ 
every  side,  like  javelins,  among  the  oppressed  people.  What  had  Jesus  to 
expect  froiu  one  who  hated  the  nation  from  his  soul,  and  sported  with 
their  lives  and  possessions  as  if  they  were  not  men,  but  a  lower  race  of 
despised  slaves  and  fanatical  Helots  ?  It  might,  indeed,  be  of  benefit  to 
Him  that  the  hatred  of  Pilate  towards  the  Jews,  might  regard  Him  as  a 
Avelcome  instrument,  in  the  absence  of  a  better,  for  playing  olS  his  bitter- 
ness against  them  and  their  leaders.  To  favour  a  Man  who  was  in  oppo- 
sition to  them,  was,  itself,  a  pleasure.  Calm,  terapei'ate  and  impartial, 
compared  to  Jewish  passion  and  bitterness,  and  in  some  respects  in 
sympathy  with  the  accused,  the  hard,  proud,  heathen  Eoman  was  more 
open  than  the  Jews  or  their  leaders,  to  the  impression  of  Christ's  inno- 
cence or  harmlessness. 

That  he  did  not  permanently  protect  Him,  rose,  partly,  from  his  char- 
acter, and,  partly,  from  his  past  history  as  procurator.  Morally  enervated 
and  lawless,  the  petty  tyrant  was  incapable  of  a  strong  impression  or  right- 
eous firmness,  and,  besides,  he  dreaded  complaints  at  Rome  from  the  Jewish 
authorities,  and  insurrections  of  the  masses  in  his  local  government.  He  i 
had,  in  the  past,  learned  to  fear  the  unconquerable  pertinacity  of  the  Jews  ! 
and  the  rebukes  of  the  Emperor,  so  keenly,  that  he  would  permit,  or  do, 
almost  anything,  for  quiet.  This  showed  itself  in  his  course  towards  Jesus. 
Protecting  Him  for  a  time,  half  in  sympathy,  half  in  mockery,  he  gave  Him 
up  in  the  end,  rather  than  brave  the  persistent  demand  of  a  people  he  hated 
and  feared.  He  would  have  set  Him  free,  but  for  the  popular  clamour,  and 
a  bitter  remembrance  of  the  trouble  it  had  already  given  him  in  Jerusalem 
and  at  Rome. 

There  was  a  hall  in  the  palace,  in  which  trials  were  generally  conducted, 
but  the  Jewish  notables,  who  had  condemned  Jesus,  were  much  too  holy  to  I 
enter  a  heathen  building  during  the  feast,  since  there  might  be  old  leaven 
in  it.  It  was  Friday,  and  the  Sabbath  began  that  night,  and  in  the  even- 
ing, at  this  season,  the  priests  and  people  universally  held  a  supplementary 
feast  on  the  flesh  of  the  freewill  offerings.  It  had,  for  centuries,  been 
associated  with  the  Passover,  of  which  it  was  reckoned  a  part,  and  Levitical 
uncleanness  would  prevent  the  accusers  joining  in  it.     They  were  still  true 

Y    Y 


690  THE   LIFE   OF   CHEIST. 

to  the  character  given  them  by  Jesus ;  careful  of  the  outside  of  the  bowl 
and  platter,  but  willing  that,  within,  it  should  be  filled  with  wickedness. 
They  had  effected  their  end,  Jesus  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Komans  before 
Jerusalem  awoke. 

Knowing  the  people  with  whom  he  had  to  do,  Pilate  made  no  attempt  to 
overcome  their  scruples.  Trials  in  the  open  air  were  common,  for  Koman 
law  courted  publicity.  Eoman  governors,  and  the  half  Eoman  Herod  and 
his  sous,  expected  their  tribunals,  indifferently,  before  the  palace,  in  the 
market-place,  in  the  theatre,  in  the  circus,  or  even  in  the  highways.  Pilate, 
therefore,  caused  his  official  seat  to  be  set  down  on  a  spot  known  in  Jeru- 
salem as  Gabbatha,  "  the  high  place,"  from  its  being  raised  above  the  crowd 
and  as  "  The  Pavement,"  because,  as  was  the  custom  with  the  spot  on  which 
Eoman  judges  sat,  it  was  laid  with  a  mosaic  of  coloured  stones.  It  was, 
vei-y  possibly,  a  permanent  erection,  square,  or  of  crescent  shape,  of  costly 
marble,  in  keeping  with  the  splendour  so  dear  to  Herod,  its  builder,  and 
seems  to  have  been  raised  in  front  of  the  "  Judgment  Hall,"  a  doorway 
connecting  the  two.  It  was  a  maxim  of  Eoman  law  that  criminal  trials 
should  be  held  on  a  raised  tribunal,  that  all  might  see  and  be  seen. 

The  ivory  curule  chair  of  the  procurator — his  seat  of  state  and  sign  of 
office — or,  perhaps,  the  old  golden  seat  of  Archelaus,  was  set  down  on  the 
tesselated  floor  of  the  tribunal,  which  was  large  enov:gh  to  allow  the  asses- 
sors of  the  court — Eoman  citizens — who  acted  as  nominal  members  of  the 
judicial  bench,  to  sit  beside  Pilate,  for  Eoman  law  required  their  presence. 
On  lower  elevations,  sat  the  offi^cers  of  the  court,  friends  of  the  procurator, 
and  others  whom  he  chose  to  honour. 

The  priests  and  elders  who  appeared  against  Jesus,  now  led  Him  up  the 
steps  of  the  tribunal,  to  the  procurator,  and  placed  Him  before  him.  Chairs 
were  generally  set  near  that  of  the  judge  for  the  accusers,  and  there  was 
also,  usually,  a  seat  for  the  accused ;  but  in  Judea,  despised  and  insulted, 
this  custom  v/as  not  now  observed,  at  least  so  far  as  regarded  Jesus,  for  He 
had  to  stand  through  the  trial.  An  interpreter  was  not  needed,  as  the 
Jewish  officials  doubtless  spoke  Greek,  and  Jesus,  brought  up  in  Galilee, 
where  the  presence  of  foreigners  made  its  use  general,  necessai'ily  under- 
stood it.  A  strong  detatchment  of  troops  from  the  garrison  guarded  the 
tribunal  and  kept  the  ground,  for  a  vast  crowd  of  citizens  and  pilgrims 
speedily  gathered,  as  the  news  of  the  arrest  spread. 

Eoman  law  knew  nothing  of  the  inquisitorial  system  by  which  a  prisoner 
luight  be  forced  to  convict  himself;  it  required  that  a  formal  accusation  of 
a  specific  offence  should  be  made  against  him.  This  office  of  accuser,  Caia- 
phas  undertook  in  part,  as  the  representative  of  the  nation  and  its  highest 
diguitaiy,  to  give  the  charges  the  greater  weight,  though  a  professional 
"orator"  may  also  have  been  employed,  as  was  usual. 

Pilate  having  taken  his  seat,  began  the  proceedings  by  formally  asking 
Caiaphas  and  his  colleagues  what  accusation  they  had  against  the  prisoner. 

"  If  He  had  not  been  a  great  offender,"  replied  Caiaphas,  as  spokesman, 
"  we  would  not  have  delivered  Him  up  to  thee.  We  have  authority,  by 
our  own  laws,  to  punish  ordinary  offenders ;  but  this  man's  crime  goes 
beyond  our  powers  in  the  punishment  it  demands,  and  we  have,  therefore 


BEFORE    PILATE.  691 

handed  Him  over  to  tliee.  That  Ave  have  done  so,  I  submit,  is  proof  that 
He  deserves  death.  The  presence  of  myself,  the  high  priest,  and  of  the 
notables  of  the  nation,  as  His  accusers,  may  suffice  to  prove  the  blackness 
of  His  guilt." 

Pilate  was  not  a  stranger  in  Palestine,  and  Jesus  had,  doubtless,  ali-eady 
been  under  his  notice,  through  reports  of  his  spies  and  officials.  He  had 
learned  that  He  avoided  all  appeals  to  force ;  that  His  discourses  had 
notlung  ■whatever  political  in  them,  and  that  His  zeal  was  mainly  directed 
against  the  corruptions  of  the  Jewish  priesthood  and  public  teachers,  whom 
the  Romans  themselves  despised  for  the  same  cause.  The  immense  crowds 
that  had  followed  Him  at  His  first  appearance  in  Judca,  three  years  before, 
find  His  subsecpient  course  in  Galilee,  must  have  been  the  subject  of  many 
official  communications  to  Ccesarea,  Pilate's  usual  residence ;  and  thej'  had 
uniformly  represented  Him  as  peaceful  and  harmless.  Pilate  knew,  there- 
fore, that  He  was  now  delivered  up  by  the  priests  and.  Habliis,  only  from 
envy  and  for  their  own  selfish  ends.  From  all  he  had  learned,  Jesus  was 
only  a  well-meaning  enthusiast,  and  he  could  easily  see  how  such  a  man 
mieht  well  be  dangerous  to  the  vested  interests  and  mock  holiness  of  the 
Jewish  magnates,  but  not  at  all  so  to  Eoman  authority.  He  was  ready 
enough  to  quench  in  blood  any  religious  movement  that  threatened  the 
peace,  but  he  saw  no  ground  for  apprehension  as  regarded  this  one. 

The  Gospels  give  only  a  brief  outline  of  the  whole  trial,  but  even  the 
opening  address  of  Caiaphas,  or  the  orator  who  spoke  for  him  and  his  col- 
leagues, was,  no  doubt,  full  of  rhetorical  compliments  to  Pilate  himself  and 
of  fierce  words  against  the  prisoner.  It  had,  however,  a  very  different 
effect  on  Pilate  from  that  intended.  The  hypocritical  clamour  for  blood  by 
a  priesthoood  whom  he  despised  as  Jews,  and  still  more  for  their  supersti- 
tion, bigotry,  barl^arous  waui  of  taste  and  culture,  restless  greed,  and 
restive  opposition  to  Eome,  was  hateful  and  repulsive.  He  would  not  involve 
"  his  court,  which  represented  the  majesty  of  the  Emperor,  in  any  further 
details  of  a  question  about  one  who  seemed  a  mere  religious  reformer.  The 
accusers  had,  themselves,  jurisdiction  in  their  own  religious  disputes. 

Interrupting  the  speaker,  therefore,  Pilate  told  him,  "  If  you  have  found 
Him  what  you  say,  you  had  better,  in  my  opinion,  take  Him  and  judge 
Him  according  to  your  own  law."  If  they  did  not  trouble  him  further,  he 
would  not  interfere  with  them.  He  had  not,  as  yet,  understood  that  they 
sought  to  have  Jesus  put  to  death,  but  fancied  they  wished  some  other 
punishment. 

Caiaphas  had  his  answer  ready.  "  It  is  a  criminal  charge,"  said  he,  "a 
charge  of  capital  crime,  and  we  cannot  put  any  one  to  death  without  your 
confirming  our  sentence."  He  could  not,  however,  do  so  in  any  case,  with- 
out at  least  a  summary  investigation,  and  thus  the  matter  nmst  proceed 
before  him.  They  might  have  stoned  Jesus  for  blasphemy,  had  he  sanc- 
tioned their  doing  so,  but  they  were  resolved  to  leave  the  odium  of  the 
murder  on  him,  and  have  their  victim  crucified.  In  the  fulfilment  of  the 
Divine  counsels.  He  was  to  die,  not  as  a  martyr  to  Jewish  fury,  but  as  a 
sin-offering  on  the  Cross. 

"What  is  your  accusation  then  ?  "  asked  Pilate. 


692  THE    LIFE    or   GHIIIST. 

Craftily  keeping  out  of  sight  Christ's  declaration  that  He  was  the  Son 
of  God,  because  such  a  theological  question  was  indifferent  to  the  lloman, 
and  because  heathenism  had  no  such  ideas  connected  with  the  phrase  as 
Judaism,  Caiaphas  turned  the  religious  offence  into  a  ]iolitical  one.  The 
"  Son  of  God,"  in  a  Jewish  sense,  was  eqviivalent  to  the  Messiah,  the 
expected  national  deliverer,  and,  hence,  he  created  a  pretension  to  earthly 
royalty  out  of  the  claim.  Such  an  accusation  could  not  be  overlooked,  and 
must  wake  prejudice,  if  believed,  as  involving  a  charge  of  treason  against 
the  suspicious  and  relentless  Tiberius.  The  priests  expected  an  instant 
condemnation,  for  they  knew  Pilate's  hya;na-like  nature. 

Eoman  law  permitted  the  questioning  of  a  prisoner  after  formal  accusa- 
tion, and  confession  of  the  charge  was  held  sufficient  proof  of  guilt. 

"  The  accused  has  been  condemned  by  us  as  a  deceiver  of  the  people," 
answered  the  high  priest. 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Pilate. 

"  In  a  double  way,"  said  Caiaphas.  "  He  stirs  up  the  nation  against  pay- 
ing their  tribute  to  Ca3sar,  and  He  sets  Himself  up  as  King  of  the  Jews. 
He  says  He  is  the  Messiah,  which  is  the  name  we  give  our  king,  and  He 
has  led  many  to  regard  Him  as  a  descendant  of  David,  and  our  only  lawful 

sovereign." 

Jesus  was  standing  at  Pilate's  side.  Eising  from  his  chair,  and  order- 
ing Him  to  be  brought  after  him,  he  retired  into  the  palace,  and  calling 
Jesus  before  him,  asked  Him,  "  Art  Thoit  the  King  of  the  Jews  ?  Dost 
Thou,  really,  claim  to  be  so  ?  "  He  evidently  expected  a  disavowal,  for  he 
felt  it  almost  beneath  him  to  put  such  a  question  to  one,  in  his  eyes,  so 
utterly  unlike  a  king.  Had  he  been  firm  and  strong-minded,  he  would 
have  seen  the  groundlessness  of  the  charge,  from  the  absence  of  all  overt 
proof ;  but  he  weakly  proceeded  to  compromise  himself,  by  putting  Jesus 
to  examination. 

Knowing  that  Pilate  had  nothing  against  Him  but  the  words  of  His  ' 
enemies  outside,  Jesus,  with  a  calm  dignity  that  must  have  amazed  the 
procurator,  replied  by  a  counter  question.  "  Do  you  ask  this  of  your  own 
accord,  or  have  others  told  it  you  of  me  ?  "  He  would  have  Pilate  remember 
the  more  than  doubtful  source  of  the  accusation,  and  that,  with  all  his 
official  means  of  information,  no  grounds  of  such  a  charge  had  ever  sug- 
gested themselves  to  his  own  mind.  It  was,  besides,  essential  to  know  if 
he  spoke  as  a  Koman,  with  a  political  use  of  the  title  "  king,"  or  repeated 
it  in  the  Jewish  sense,  as  equivalent  to  "  the  Messiah." 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  a  Jeiu  ?  "  answered  Pilate,  scornfully,  feeling  his 
false  position  in  entertaining  an  accusation  from  so  suspicious  a  source. 
"  Your  own  nation  have  brought  you  before  me ;  the  charge  comes  from 
the  priests  and  Eabbis.  I  have  only  repeated  what  they  allege.  Do 
you  suppose  I  care  for  your  dreams  about  a  Messiah  ?  Tell  me,  what 
have  you  done  ?     Do  you  call  yourself  the  King  of  the  Jews  ?  " 

"  In  your  sense  of  the  word  I  am  not  a  king,"  answered  Jesus  ;  "  but  in 
another,  I  am.  My  accusers  expect  a  mere  earthly,  world-conquering 
Messiah.  But  my  Kingdom  is  not  of  this  world — not  earthly  and  political. 
If  it  were,  my  attendants  would  have  fought  for  me,  to  prevent  my  being 


BEFOEE    PILATE.  693 

arrested  and  delivered  up  to  my  enemies  by  the  soldiers  you  sent  against 
me.  But  tliey  made  no  resistance  nor  any  attempt  even  to  rescue  me,  and 
this,  of  itself,  is  enough  to  show  that  my  Kingdom  is  not  a  political  one." 

"  You  speak  o£  a  kingdom  ;  are  you  really  a  king,  then,  in  any  other  sense 
than  the  common  ?  "   asked  the  procurator,  awed  before  the  Mysterious  Man. 

"Thou  sayest  it ;  so  it  is  ;  I  a:*x  a  Kixg,"  answered  Jesus.  "  I  was  born 
to  be  a  king ;  I  camp  into  the  world  that  I  should  bear  witness  for  Tlie 
Truth."  He  spoke  il  His  lofty,  mystic  way  of  the  Divine  Truth  He  had 
seen  and  heard  in  a  former  existence,  when  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 
"  All  who  love  and  seek  the  Truth,"  he  continued — "  that  is,  who  hear  and 
obey  my  words — are  my  subjects."  He  had  thrice  claimed  a  Kingdom, 
and  thrice  told  Pilate  that  it  was  not  of  this  world. 

"  How  these  Jews  talk !  "  thought  Pilate.  "  They,  barbarous  as  they 
are,  think  they  have  Truth  as  their  special  possession— Tkl'tii,  which  is  a 
riddle  insoluble  to  our  philosophers  !  Wliat  have  I  to  do  with  such  specu- 
lations, fit  only  to  confuse  the  head  of  a  hungry  Greek  or  a  beggarly 
Kabbi?"  But  he  had  heard  enough  to  convince  him  that  Jesus  had  no 
thought  of  treason  against  Eome,  or  of  stirring  up  a  disturbance  in  the 
country.  Hardened,  cold,  worldly,  he  felt  how  awful  goodness  is,  and 
would  fain  have  dismissed  One  so  strangely  different  from  other  men — an 
enthusiast,  willing  to  die  to  make  men  better  !  "  What  kind  of  a  man  is  He  ?  " 
thought  the  Roman.  "  If  He  only  had  not  been  so  ready  with  His  talk 
about  being  a  king  !  But  He  will  do  nothing  to  help  Himself !  AVhat  is 
Truth?"  said  he,  ironically,  and  turned  away  without  waiting  an  answer, 
for  in  Pilate's  opinion,  as  in  that  of  most  men  of  his  class  in  that  age, 
Truth  was  an  airy  nothing,  a  mere  empty  name. 

Leaving  Jesus  to  be  brought  out  again  after  him  to  the  tribunal,  he 
returned  to  the  accusers  and  the  multitude.  Touched  Ijy  the  prisoner's 
self-possession  and  dignity,  half-afraid  of  One  who  spoke  only  of  Truth 
and  of  other  worlds  than  this,  and  incensed  that  the  hierarchy,  for  their 
own  ends,  should  have  sought  to  palm  off  on  him  a  harmless  enthusiast, 
as  a  dangerous  traitor,  he  threw  the  priests  and  Eabbis  into  fierce  con- 
fusion, by  frankly  telling  them  "  that  he  had  examined  Jesus,  and  found 
no  ground  for  any  punishment  in  His  thinking  Himself  the'  Messiah,  as 
they  called  it."  One  point  in  the  accusation  had  failed,  but  it  was  neces- 
sary to  hear  what  might  be  alleged  besides.  The  accusers  could  easily 
see  that,  in  spite  of  the  admission  of  Jesus  that  He  claimed  to  be  a  king, 
Pilate  regarded  Him  rather  with  pity  than  fear.  More  must  be  done  to 
fix  on  Him  the  crime  of  being  dangerous  to  the  State.  The  priests  and 
Eabbis  were  greatly  excited.  One  after  another,  they  sprang  up,  with 
charge  upon  charge,  to  confirm  their  main  accusation.  In  their  fierce 
bigotry  and  unmeasured  hatred,  they  had  not  scrupled  to  speak  of  a  purely 
relio-ious  movement  as  a  dark  political  plot,  and  now  they  were  bold  enough 
even  to  adduce  proofs  of  this  treason.  "  He  has  perverted  women  and 
children,  and  has  systematically  stirred  up  the  whole  nation  against  Ca3sar ; 
from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem  thei-e  is  not  a  town  or  village  in  the  land  where 
He  has  not  won  over  some,  and  filled  them  with  wild  expectations.  He 
has  appealed  to  the  nation  to  join  His  Kingdom ;  He  has  spoken  against 


694  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

paying  the  taxes  ;  Ho  is  a  second  Judas  tlie  Gaulonitc,  and  you  know  what 
hia  career  cost  Rome,  in  blood  and  treasure."  The  hypocrites  !  They  wero 
hunting  Jesus  to  death  simply  because  He  would  not  identify  Himself 
with  them,  and  use  His  supernatural  jiower  to  drive  out  the  Romans,  and 
set  themselves  on  the  vacant  throne.  They  were  demanding  His  death  on 
the  pretext  that  He  had  threatened  to  use  force  to  establish  His  Kingdom, 
when  the  truth  was,  His  real  oSence,  in  their  eyes,  was  that  He  would  not 
use  force  ! 

Such  a  storm  of  accusations  and  sixspicions  might  well  have  led  Pilate 
to  expect  some  denial  or  disproofs  from  Jesus.  He  doubtless  attributed 
all  the  difficulty  of  the  situation  to  His  too  ready  admission  of  His  dreamy 
kingship ;  and,  on  every  ground,  even  for  his  own  sake,  to  clear  him  from 
a  business  that  grew  more  and  more  serious,  hoped  to  hear  some  defence. 
But  Christ  knew  with  whom  He  had  to  do.  He  knew  His  enemies  were 
determined  that  He  should  die,  and  would  invent  charge  after  charge  till 
He  was  destroyed.  They  had  already  scrupled  at  nothing.  He  knew 
Pilate — fierce,  and  yet  cowardly,  with  no  moral  force ;  the  tyrant,  and  yet 
the  sport  of  the  Jewish  authorities.  The  majesty  of  truth  and  goodness 
in  Him  looked  down  with  a  pitying  disdain  on  the  moral  worthlessness  of 
judge  and  accusers  alike,  and  would  not  stoop  to  utter  even  a  word  in  His 
own  behalf  before  them.  'J'hey  knew  His  life  and  work,  and  if  the  witness 
they  bore  were  of  no  weight,  He  would  add  no  other.  "  If  J  demand  that 
He  answer,"  thought  Pilate,  "  perhaps  He  will  do  so.  Do  you  not  hear," 
said  he,  "  how  many  things  they  accuse  you  of  ?  Do  you  make  no  defence 
at  all?"  But  Jesus  remained  silent,  not  uttering  even  a  word.  "Avery 
strange  man,"  thought  Pilate.  He  seemed  to  him,  more  than  ever,  a  lofty 
enthusiast,  blind  to  His  own  interests  and  careless  of  life. 

The  word  "  Galilee,"  in  the  wild  cries  of  the  jjriests  and  Rabins,  raised 
a  new  hope  in  Pilate's  mind.  Antipas  was  now  in  Jerusalem  at  the  feast. 
If  Jesus  were  a  Galilasan,  it  would  be  a  graceful  courtesy  to  send  Him  to 
be  tried,  as  a  Galilean,  before  His  own  prince,  and  might  perhaps  efface 
the  grudge  Antipas  had  at  himself,  for  having  let  loose  his  soldiers  lately 
on  the  Galila3an  pilgrims  in  the  Temple,  during  a  disturbance,  some  being 
cut  down  at  the  very  altar — a  sore  scandal  in  the  Jewish  world.  It  vfould, 
moi'eover,  get  him  clear  of  a  troublesome  matter,  and,  perhaps,  it  might 
even  save  the  strange  Man— so  calm,  so  dignified,  in  circumstances  of  such 
weakness  and  humiliation  ;  with  such  a  look,  as  if  He  read  one's  soul ;  with 
such  a  mysterious  air  of  greatness,  even  in  bonds,  and  in  the  very  face  of 
death  by  the  Cross.  Antipas  would  hardly  yield  to  the  Temple  party,  as 
he  himself  might  be  forced  to  do,  to  avoid  another  complaint  to  Rome.  He 
no  sooner,  therePore.  heard  that  Jesus  was  a  Galila3an,  than  he  ordered 
Him  to  be  transferred  to  Antipas,  that  he  might  judge  Him. 

The  old  palace  of  the  Asmoneans,  in  which  Antipas  lodged,  was  not  far 
from  I'llate's  splendid  official  residence.  It  lay  a  few  streets  off,  to  the 
nortli-east,  within  the  same  old  city  wall,  on  the  slope  of  Zion,  the  levelled 
crest  of  which  was  occupied  by  the  vast  palace  of  Herod,  now  the  Roman 
head-quarters.  Both  were  in  the  old,  or  Upper  Cit}^  and  through  the 
narrow  streets,  the  sides  of  which  rose  high  above  the  centre  to  prevent 


BEFORE   PILATE.  695 

defilement  to  passers-by,  Jesus  was  led  under  escort  of  a  detachment  o£ 
the  Eoraan  troops  on  duty.  The  accusers  had  no  choice  but  to  follow,  and 
the  multitude  went  off  with  them,  for  it  was  no  ordinary  spectacle  to  see 
the  high  priest  and  all  the  great  men  of  the  city,  thus  in  public  together. 

The  vassal  king  was  caught  in  Pilate's  snare.  The  flattery  of  refeiTing 
a  Galitean  case  to  him  as  the  Galilfean  tetrarch,  greatly  pleased  him,  and 
his  light  superficial  nature  was  no  less  gratified  by  having  One  brought 
before  him,  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much.  In  his  petty  court,  amidst  all 
its  affectation  of  grandeur  and  state,  ennui  hung  like  a  di'owsiness  overall. 
He  had  never  seen  a  miracle,  and  should  like  to  be  able  to  say  he  had.  It 
would  break  the  monotony  of  a  day,  and  give  an  hour's  languid  talk.  A 
prisoner,  in  danger  of  the  Cross,  could  not  refuse  to  humour  him,  if  he 
commanded  Him  to  perform  one  !  He  had  been  afraid  of  Jesus  once,  but 
a  miracle-worker  in  chains  could  be  only,  at  best,  a  clever  juggler. 

Pilate  had  taken  his  seat  on  his  tribunal  in  the  grey  dawn,  and  an  hour 
had  passed.  It  was  shortly  after  six,  when  Antipas,  early  astir,  like  all 
Orientals,  heard  the  commotion  in  the  courtyard  of  his  palace,  and  received 
word  that  Jesus  had  been  handed  over  to  his  authority.  A  few  minutes 
more,  and  the  prisoner  was  led  into  the  Court  of  Justice  of  the  palace,  and 
presently  Antipas  made  his  appearance  on  the  tribunal,  on  which  Jesus 
was  also  forthwith  placed. 

The  light,  weak,  crafty,  worthless  man,  was  disposed  to  be  very  con- 
descending. He  put  question  after  question  to  Him,  as  his  idle  curiosity 
suggested,  and  doubtless  commanded  that  a  miracle  might  be  performed 
there  and  then.  But  Jesus  was  no  conjurer  or  "magus."  He  was  ready 
to  save  His  life  by  worthy  means,  but  He  would  not,  for  a  moment,  stoop 
to  anything  ignoble.  The  creature  before  Him  clad  in  purple  was  the 
murderer  of  John,  the  slave  of  a  wicked  woman,  a  mean  adulterer,  and 
would  fain  have  had  His  life  as  well  as  that  of  the  Baptist.  Jesus  felt, 
therefore,  only  utter  disdain  for  him,  and  treated  him  with  withering 
silence.  He  might  tire  himself  with  questions,  but  not  a  word  of  reply 
would  be  vouchsafed.  Antipas  began  to  feel  that  it  was  no  time  to  indulge 
his  humour,  and  grew  half-alarmed. 

The  high  priests  and  Eabl)is,  Caiaphas  at  their  head,  would  gladly  have 
turned  the  annoyance  of  the  tetrarch  to  their  own  account.  When  his 
questions  had  ceased,  they  broke  out  into  vehement  accusations,  forgetful, 
in  their  rage,  alike  of  their  office  and  of  their  self-respect.  But  they,  too, 
were  met  with  the  same  insufferable,  contemptuous  silence,  which  gave  no 
chance  of  fastening  anything  on  their  enemy,  by  any  admission  of  His 
own.  Antipas  was  no  less  at  a  loss  than  Pilate  what  to  do.  One  thing, 
alone,  he  had  resolved— he  would  take  no  part  in  condemning  so  mysterious 
a  man.  Was  he  afraid  of  the  large  following  Jesus  already  had  in  Galilee, 
Was  he  spell-bound  and  awed  by  those  eyes,  that  calmness,  that  more  than 
kingly  dignity  ?  Was  he  afraid  of  the  very  power  of  which  he  had  craved 
sonie  exhTbition  ?  When  there  was  no  Herodias  at  hand  to  make  him  the 
tool  of  her  revenge,  he  was  rather  a  mere  voluptuary  than  cruel. 

Treated  so  strangely  before  his  courtiers,  humbled  and  badled,  Antipas 
covered  his  defeat  and  alarm  by  an  affectation  of  contemptuous  ridicule. 


GOG  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

'I'lie  liiirmlosf!.  fanatiral  niiulinan,  wlio  claimed  to  be  a  kiiif?.  would  inako  a 
fine  Ijutt  for  tlic  humour  of  his  guard.  Lot  them  trick  Iliiii  out  as  u  kiug, 
aud  ])lay  at  homage  to  Him,  and  see  how  He  would  hear  His  shadowy  dig- 
nities !  It  was  a  hrave  chance  for  the  courtiers  to  show  their  matdiness  hy 
mocking  a  hel]ilcs.s  ])risoner  !  Antipas  knew,  hy  this  time,  Pilate's  opinion 
of  the  accused,  and  suspected  why  he  had  sent  Him.  So,  oflicer  and 
common  soldier  set  themselves  to  amuse  tlieir  master,  by  trying  their  wit 
on  this  ridiculous  pretender  to  a  crown  !  Tired  at  last,  nothing  remained 
but  to  send  Him  back  to  Pilate,  and  let  him  finish  what  he  had  begun. 
Antij)as  had  no  desire  to  meddle  further  in  what  might  prove  a  very 
troublesome  matter.  Having,  therefore,  put  a  white  robe — the  Jewish 
roj-al  colour— on  Jesus,  as  if  to  show  his  contempt  for  such  a  king,  Ho 
sent  Him  back  to  the  procurator. 

Pilate  had  already  made  one  vain  attempt  to  save  Him,  and  now,  anxious 
to  end  the  matter,  summoned  the  accusers  once  more  to  the  tribunal.  A 
great  crowd  had  gathered,  mostly  of  citizens,  instinctively  hostile  to  tho 
alleged  enemy  of  the  Temple  by  which  they  lived.  Looking  at  Jesus  again, 
standing  before  him  in  the  humble  dress  of  the  people— for  they  had 
already  stripped  Him  of  His  robe  of  mockery— Pilate  noticed  that  ho 
showed  no  trace  of  fanaticism  in  word,  bearing,  or  countenance  ;  and  felt 
more  convinced  than  ever  that  He  was  no  rebel  or  dangerous  person.  "  I 
have  examined  this  man,"  said  he,  "  and  nothing  worthy  of  death  has  been 
done  by  Him.  Still  more,  I  sent  Him  to  Herod,  and  he  is  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  has  transferred  Him  again  to  me  imcondemned.  But  since 
so  much  trouble  has  been  caused  by  His  fancies,  He  deserves  some  punish- 
ment. I  shall,  therefore,  order  Him  to  be  scourged  and  then  dismissed. 
It  will  be  a  warning  to  Him."  The  proposjil  was  a  mean  salve  to  the 
wounded  pride  of  the  hierarchy  for  liis  refusing  their  demand  for  a  sen- 
tence of  death. 

Meanwhile  a  cry,  destined  to  have  momentous  results,  arose  in  the  crowd. 
It  was  the  custom  to  carry  out  capital  sentences  at  the  Feast  times,  that 
the  people  at  large  might  get  a  lesson  ;  but  it  was  also  the  practice  of  the 
procurators,  in  compliment  to  the  deliverance  of  Israel  from  the  slavery  of 
Egypt,  commemorated  hj  the  Passover,  to  release  any  prisoner  condemned 
to  death,  whom  the  multitude  might  name  in  the  Passover  week. 

Coming  forward,  therefore,  and  addressing  both  accusers  and  people, 
Pilate  reminded  them  of  their  custom  that  he  should  release  a  prisoner 
to  them  at  the  Passover.  Cries  instantly  rose,  clamouring  that  he,  as 
hitherto,  would  grant  them  this  favour,  aud  for  once  tho  shouts  pleased 
him ;  for  he  fancied  that,  this  time,  there  could  be  no  question  who  should 
receive  the  pardon.  One  who  claimed  to  be  their  national  king,  and  had 
attracted  so  much  notice,  would,  he  assumed,  be  gladly  accepted.  He 
called  out  to  the  people,  therefore,  whether  they  would  like  "  Jesus,  their 
king,"  to  be  the  prisoner  now  released  to  them. 

It  happened  that,  at  this  time,  there  lay,  awaiting  execution,  one  Barab- 
bas— the  son  of  a  Eabbi— who  had,  apparently,  been  compromised,  through 
religious  fanaticism,  in  one  of  the  countless  petty  revolts  which  incessantly 
harassed  the  Romans.     He  was  no  common  robber,  but  a  zealot,  who,  in 


BEFORE    PILATE.  G97 

mistaken  ardour  for  the  honour  of  the  Law,  had  taken  part  in  a  tumult, 
during  which  some  Eoman  sympathizers  or  soldiers  had  been  killed. 

The  proposal  of  Pilate  threatened  to  overthrow  the  scheme  of  the  hier- 
archy, and,  unless  opposed  on  the  instant,  might  catch  the  popular  fancy, 
and  be  accepted.  Caiaphas  and  his  party,  therefore,  with  quick  presence 
of  mind,  determined  to  turn  attention  from  it,  by  i-aising  a  counter  pro- 
posal flattering  to  local  passion.  "  Ask  him  to  release  Barabbas  to  you, 
and  not  this  man,"  shouted  they  to  the  mob.  It  was  a  dexterous  stroke, 
for  Barabbas  had  been  condemned  for  an  offence  which  made  him  a  martyr 
in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  He  had  risen  against  the  abhorred  Eoman.  He 
was  a  patriot,  therefore ;  a  zealot  for  the  Temple  and  the  Law,  while  Jesus 
was  the  enemy  of  things  as  they  were,  opposed  tradition  and  rites,  and 
demanded  reforms.  Caiaphas  had  no  sympathy  with  the  revolutionary 
fierceness  of  Barabbas,  but  it  was,  after  all,  only  an  excess  of  zeal  on  the 
right  side,  whereas  Jesus  was  the  public  accuser  of  the  whole  priesthood, 
and  of  the  schools  as  well. 

The  cry  for  Barabbas,  therefore,  was  raised  by  the  high  priest  as  a  cue 
to  the  people,  and  repeated  with  such  vehement  urgency  that,  erelong,  it 
was  caught  up  by  the  whole  crowd,  who  were  presently  wild  with  excite- 
ment to  have  "  the  patriot  "  released,  instead  of  Jesus.  The  public  opinion 
or  voice  of  a  nation,  when  the  result  of  free  expression  of  opposite  judg- 
ments, may  be  the  voice  of  God ;  but  the  voice  of  the  unthinking  multitude, 
as  the  outburst  of  sudden  passion  or  caprice,  seems  often  that  of  Satan. 
Pilate  was  under  no  legal  obligation  to  give  the  people  their  choice,  but 
had  fancied  he  might  appeal  to  them  as  against  the  ])riests  and  Eabbis, 
and  play  them  off,  as  a  counterpoise  to  the  opposition  of  their  leaders,  and 
a  security  for  himself  with  the  Emperor.  But  the  priests  kejDt  up  the  cz-y 
for  Barabbas  so  fiercely,  and,  to  Pilate's  regret,  the  multitude  echoed  it 
with  such  a  wild  tumult  of  voices,  that  he  saw  he  had  failed.  "  Give  us 
Barabbas,"  alone  was  heard.  A  popular  tumult  seemed  rising.  Every- 
thing promised  another  scene  like  that  of  the  great  deputation  to  Caesarea, 
about  the  standards  set  up  in  Jerusalem,  when  the  persistent  cries  of  the 
multitude  were  not  to  be  silenced,  even  by  fear  of  death,  and  forced  Pilate, 
in  the  end,  to  yield. 

To  add  to  the  governor's  perplexity,  he  had  scarcely  ascended  the  judge's 
seat  to  receive  the  decision  of  the  people,  and  give  his  sentence  in  accord 
with  it,  when  a  message  came  to  him  from  his  wife,  from  the  palace  behind, 
which,  under  the  cix'cumstances,  must  have  greatly  impressed  him.  Since 
the  time  of  Augustus,  Eoman  magistrates  had  been  permitted  to  take 
their  wives  to  the  provinces,  and  tradition  has  handed  down  the  wife  of 
Pilate — whose  name  it  states  was  Procla — as  a  proselyte  to  Judaism.  She 
had  evidentl}^  heard  of  Jesus,  and,  having  taken  a  lively  interest  in  Him, 
was  greatly  troubled  at  His  arrest  and  present  danger.  Her  messenger, 
hastening  to  Pilate,  now  whispered  an  entreaty  from  her,  that  he  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  condemning  this  just  man ;  she  had  suffered  many 
things  through  the  night  in  a  dream  because  of  Him,  and  feared  Divine 
vengeance  if  He  were  condemned. 

Pilate,  guided  only  by  expediency,  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do.     Unwilling 


698  THE   LIFE    OF   CHEIST. 

to  give  way  to  the  mob,  and  let  loose  a  fierce  enemy  of  Rome  instead  of  a 
harmless  and  evidently  lofty-minded  enthusiast;  certain  that  the  high 
priests  had  accused  Him  only  from  envy  at  His  influence  with  the  people, 
and  hatred  of  Him  for  His  opposition  to  themselves ;  half  afraid,  more- 
over, especially  after  his  wife's  message,  to  meddle  further  in  the  matter  ; 
he  once  more  turned  to  the  crowd,  who  were  still  shouting  "  ISTot  this  man, 
but  Barabbas,"  and  attempted  to  carry  his  point,  and  save  Jesus. 

"  Which  of  the  two,"  cried  he,  "  do  you  really  wish  me  to  release  to 
you?  "  "Barabbas,  Barabbas,"  roared  the  multitude.  The  cry  raised  by 
the  priests  had  carried  all  before  it.  "  What  shall  I  do  then,"  asked  Pilate, 
pale  before  the  storm,  "  with  Jesus,  whom  you  call  the  Messiah — the  King 
of  the  Jews  ?  "  He  hoped  that  the  sound  of  titles  so  dear  to  their  hearts, 
and  so  flattering  to  their  pride,  would  have  some  effect.  But  he  was 
bitterly  deceived. 

For  now,  for  the  first  time,  rose  in  answer  to  him,  the  fearful  words, 
"To  the  Ciioss!  Crucify  Him!  crucify  Him!"  the  priests  and  Rabbis, 
prelates  and  doctors  of  the  nation,  on  the  raised  platform  of  the  tribunal, 
shouting  first,  and  the  mob  below  re-echoing  the  cry  far  and  wide. 

Pilate  had  failed  twice,  but  he  still  held  out.  Appealing  a  third  time  to 
the  excited  crov/d,  he  strove  to  reason  with  them  :— 

"  Why  shall  I  crucify  Him  ?  What  evil  has  He  done  ?  He  has  broken 
no  law.  I  have  found  no  cause,  in  anytliiug  He  has  done,  to  put  Him  to 
death.     I  will,  therefore,  only  scourge  Him,  and  let  Him  go." 

But  he  knew  not  the  forces  he  was  opposing.  Behind  the  passions  of 
the  priests  and  Rabbis  and  people,  were  the  slowly  self-fulfilling  counsels 
of  the  Eternal ! 

The  sea  of  upturned  faces  again  broke  into  wild  uproar,  and  a  thou- 
sand voices  yelled  at  their  fiercest,  "  Crucify  Him  !  crucify  Him  !  " 

The  six  days  of  CiBsarea,  when  the  same  crowds  had  besieged  his  palace, 
with  the  unbroken  ci-y,  which  not  even  imminent  death  could  still— the 
six  days,  when  their  invincible  tenacity  had  forced  him  to  humble  himself 
before  them  and  let  them  triumph — rose  in  Pilate's  mind. 

"  It  will  be  another  uproar  like  that,"  thought  he ;  "  I  must  yield  while 
I  can,  and  save  myself."  Poor  mockery  of  a  ruler !  Set  by  the  Eternal 
to  do  right  on  earth,  and  afraid  to  do  it;  told  so  by  his  own  bosom;  strong 
enough  in  his  legions,  and  in  the  truth  itself,  to  have  saved  the  Innocent 
One,  and  kept  his  own  soul,  he  could  only  think  of  the  apparently  expe- 
dient. Type  of  the  politician  of  all  ages  who  forgets  that  only  the  right  is 
the  strong  or  wise  ! 

Not  daring  in  his  weakness  to  play  the  man  and  do  right,  Pilate  was 
yet  determined  that  even  those  at  a  distance,  who  might  not  hear  his  dis- 
avowal of  any  willing  share  in  the  condemnation  of  Christ,  should  be 
made  to  see  it.  To  wash  the  hands  in  water  is  a  natural  symbol  so  ex- 
pressive of  repudiation  of  responsibility,  that  it  had  been  adopted  by  Jews 
and  heathen  alike.  As  long  before  as  the  days  of  Moses,  the  elders  of  a 
city,  near  y/hich  the  body  of  a  slain  man  had  been  found,  were  required  to 
wash  their  hands  over  a  slaughtered  heifer,  and  declare  their  innocence. 
To  wash  the  hands  in  innocency  was  already  a  common  expression  in  the 


BEFORE    PILATE.  G99 

days  of  David,  and  it  was  familiar  to  both  Greeks  and  Tlomans.  Calling, 
therefore,  for  water,  Pilate  went  towards  his  ofRcial  cluiiv,  and  with  sig- 
nificant gestures,  washed  his  hands,  calling  aloud  as  ho  did  so,  "  That  as 
his  hands  were  clean  before  them,  so  was  he  himself,  of  all  guilt  in  the 
blood  of  tliis  Man.    It  is  on  you;  you  may  answer  for  it  as  you  best  can!" 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  "  cried  the  furious  priests  and  rabble,  "willingly  !  AVe  and 
our  chikben  Avill  take  the  blame !  His  blood  be  on  us  and  our  children  if 
He  be  slain  unjustly." 

•'  Then  you  may  hare  His  blood,"  thought  Pilate ;  "  I  have  done  my 
Ijest  to  save  Him  !  "  So  do  men  deceive  themselves  ;  as  if  they  could  wasli 
their  conscience  clean  as  easily  as  their  hands  !  They  fancy  they  have 
fulfilled  to  the  utmost  their  acknowledged  duty,  when  they  have  not  done 
precisely  the  first  indispensable  and  decisive  act.  They  weary  themselves, 
toiling  along  a  thousand  crooked  ways,  which  cannot  lead  them  to  their 
end,  and  turn  aside  from  the  path  of  unhesitating,  immovable  right— the 
way  nearest  to  them,  and  the  shortest,  after  all ! 

The  Innocent  One  had  gained  nothing  but  evil  by  all  the  windings  and 
doublings  of  the  scheming  and  trimming  Roman.  Pilate  had  proposed  as 
a  compromise  with  His  accusers,  to  save  His  life  by  delivering  Him  over 
to  the  shame  and  agony  of  scourging,  though  He  had,  confessedly,  done 
nothing  amiss.     He  was  now  to  be  both  scourged  and  crucified. 

Victims  condemned  to  the  cross  first  underwent  the  hideous  torture  of 
the  scourge,  and  this  was  immediately  inflicted  on  Jesus.  Pilate,  forth- 
with, commanded  it  to  be  carried  out.  "  Go,  bind  His  hands,  and  let  Him 
be  beaten,"  was  the  order  for  this  terrible  prelude  to  crucifixion. 

Roman  citizens  were  still  exempted,  by  various  laws,  from  this  agonizing 
and  painful  punishment,  which  was  employed  sometimes  to  elicit  con- 
fessions, sometimes  as  a  substitute  for  execution,  and,  at  others,  as  the 
first  step  in  capital  sentences.  It  was  in  full  use  in  the  provinces,  and 
lawless  governors  did  not  scruple  to  enforce  it  even  on  Roman  citizens,  in 
spite  of  its  acknowledged  illegality.  Jesus  was  now  seized  by  some  of  tho 
soldiers  standing  near,  and  after  being  stripped  to  the  waist,  was  boimd  in 
a  stooping  posture.  His  hands  behind  His  back,  to  a  post,  or  block,  near 
the  tribunal.  He  was  then  beaten  at  the  pleasure  of  the  soldiers,  with 
knots  of  rope,  or  plaited  leather  thongs,  armed  at  the  ends  with  acorn- 
shaped  drops  of  lead,  or  small,  sharp-jiointed  bones.  In  many  cases  not 
only  was  the  l^ack  of  the  person  scourged  cut  open  in  all  directions ;  even 
the  ejos,  the  face,  and  the  breast,  were  torn,  and.  the  teeth  not  seldom 
knocked  out.  The  judge  stood  by,  to  stimulate  the  sinewy  executioners 
by  cries  of  "  Give  it  him  "■ — but  we  may  trust  that  Pilate,  though  his  office 
required  him  to  be  present,  spared  himself  this  crime. 

Under  the  fury  of  the  countless  stripes,  tl)e  victims  sometimes  sank — 
amidst  screams,  convulsive  leaps,  and  distortions— into  a  senseless  heap; 
sometimes  died  on  the  spot ;  sometimes  v/cre  taken  away  an  unrecognisable 
mass  of  bleeding  flesh,  to  find  deliverance  in  death,  from  the  inflammation 
and  fever,  sickness  and  shame. 

The  scourging  of  Jesus  was  of  the  severest ;  for  the  soldiers,  employed 
as  lictors  in  the  absence  of  these  special  officials,  who  were  not  allowed  to 


700  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

procuratoi'S,  only  too  gladly  vented  on  any  Jew  the  grndge  they  bore  the 
nation,  and  they  would,  doubtless,  try  if  they  could  not  force  out  the  con- 
fession which  His  silence  had  denied  to  the  governor.  Besides,  He  was  to 
be  crucified,  and  the  harder  the  scourging  the  less  life  would  there  be 
left,  to  detain  them  afterwards  on  guard  at  the  cross.  What  He  must 
have  endured  is  pictured  to  us  by  Eusebius  in  the  epistle  of  the  Chui^ch  in 
Smyrna.  "  All  around  were  horrified  to  see  them  (the  martyrs),"  says  he, 
"  so  torn  with  scourges  that  their  very  veins  were  laid  bare,  and  the  inner 
muscles  and  sinews,  and  even  the  very  bowels,  exposed." 

The  scourging  over — Pilate,  as  his  office  required,  standing  by,  to  hear 
any  confession  that  might  be  made— Jesus  was  formally  delivered  over  to 
a  military  officer,  with  the  authorization  to  see  Him  crucified.  He  had 
been  scourged  in  the  open  grounds  before  the  palace  gate,  close  to  the 
tribunal,  but  was  now  led,  still  half-naked,  with  painful,  bleeding  steps, 
into  the  inner  court  of  the  palace,  in  which,  as  the  trial  was  over,  the 
whole  cohort — no  longer  needed  outside — was  massed,  to  be  ready  for  any 
attempt  at  rescue.  His  guards  next  put  some  of  His  clothes  on  the 
quivering  body.  For  this  His  own  humble  under  garments  contented 
them,  in  part ;  but  the  brutal  humour  of  the  guard-room  was  free  to  vent 
itself  on  a  condemned  man,  and  the  lofty  claims  of  Christ,  and  His  hated 
nationality,  excited  it  to  the  keenest.  Instead  of  His  plain  abba  of  linen, 
therefore,  they  threw  over  His  shoulders  a  scarlet  sagum  or  soldier's  cloak, 
as  a  rough  burlesque  of  the  long  and  fine  purple  one  worn  only  by  the 
Emperor.  One  of  them,  running  to  the  nearest  open  space,  heightened 
the  coarse  and  shameful  merriment  by  bringing  in  some  of  the  tough 
twigs  of  the  thorny  Nubk,  which  he  twisted  into  a  mock  laurel  wreath, 
like  that  worn  at  times  by  the  Caesars,  and  forced  down,  with  its  close 
sharp  thorns,  on  our  Saviour's  temples.  The  Nubk  even  yet  grows,  on 
dwarf  bushes,  outside  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  A  last  supreme  touch,  to 
complete  the  ridicule,  was  at  hand,  in  one  of  the  long  reeds,  used  in  many 
ways  in  Jewish  houses,  and  hence  easily  procured.  Placed  in  His  hand, 
the  mock  king  had  a  sceptre  !  It  only  remained  to  pay  Him  a  show  of 
homage,  and  this  they  did  on  their  knees,  saluting  Him  with  mock  oaths 
of  allegiance,  "  Hail,  King  of  the  Jews."  The  courtyard  rang  with  peals 
of  laughter.  Some  of  the  more  brutal  could  not,  however,  let  things  pass 
so  lightly.  He  was  a  Jew ;  He  had  claimed  to  be  a  king,  in  opposition,  as 
they  fancied,  to  the  Emperor,  and  He  was  about  to  be  crucified.  They 
indulged  their  coarseness,  thei-efore,  by  tearing  the  stout  cane-like  reed 
from  His  hands,  and  striking  Him  with  it  over  the  face  and  head.  Others 
struck  Him  rudely  with  their  fists :  some,  in  their  contempt,  even  spitting 
on  Him  as  they  did  so.  The  scourging  had  lasted  till  the  soldiers  had 
done  their  worst,  and  now,  their  unspeakable  brutality  was  left  to  wear 
itself  out. 

This  long  passage  of  insult  and  mockery  was  one  of  the  sorest  trials  of 
these  last  sad  hours.  Yet,  through  the  whole,  no  complaint  escaped  His  lips. 
He  was  being  insulted,  maltreated,  and  mocked,  as  a  Jew,  while  already 
agonized  by  the  scourging ;  but,  if  His  tormentors  had  known  it.  He  stood 
where  He  did,  because  the  Jews  hated  Him.     They  ridiculed  His  claim  to 


BEFOEE   PILATE.  701 

spiritual  monarchy  as  the  Messiah ;  but  had  the  soldiery  known  the  truth, 
He  was  being  put  to  death  because  He  had  opposed  the  Jewish  dream, 
that  the  Messiah  would  secure  the  universal  political  supremacy  of  their 
nation. 

No  murmur  rose  from  Him.  He  miglit  have  spoken,  or  sighed,  or 
implored  the  pity  of  tlie  soldiery ;  He  might  have  appealed  to  their  honour 
and  compassion.  A  heart  beats  even  in  the  roughest  bosom.  But  He  was 
silent — not  because  the  waves  of  His  sorrows  had  overwhelmed  Him,  but 
in  triumphant  superiority  to  them.  He  had  been  bowed  and  crushed  in 
Gethsemane,  but  now  He  showed  the  serene  joy  of  a  conqueror.  His 
silence  was  a  mark  of  His  perfect  child-like  resignation  to  the  will  of  His 
Father.  He  was  fulfilling,  by  His  calm  endurance,  the  work  of  His  life,  in 
accordance  with  the  eternal  counsels  of  God,  and  in  holy  love  for  His 
nation  and  the  world.  His  kiugly  spirit  was  clouded,  to  human  eyes,  by 
pain  and  agony,  but  the  end  of  His  life  and  death  shone  out  the  more 
triumphantly  before  Him.  He  was  dying  to  destroy  for  ever  the  dead 
and  death-causing  ritualism  of  the  past ;  as  the  Founder  of  a  religion  of 
love  and  freedom  and  light,  and  as  the  atoning  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of 
the  world,  which  would  open  the  gates  of  mercy  to  man  for  evermore  ! 

Pilate  had,  apparently,  retired  into  the  palace  for  a  time,  but  now  re- 
appeared ;  urged,  perhaps,  by  his  wife  Procla,  to  make  one  more  effort  to 
save  Jesus.  He  might  have  prevented  the  pitiful  roughness  of  the  soldiers 
had  he  pleased,  and  the  scourging  itself  was  an  injustice,  by  his  own  con- 
fession. He  now  ordered  Him  to  be  brought  out  once  more,  tottering  with 
pain  and  weakness,  wearing  the  scarlet  cloak  and  the  crown  of  thorns,  and 
covered,  besides,  with  the  vile  proofs  of  contempt  and  violence.  Even  the 
stony  heart  of  Pilate  was  touched. 

"Behold,"  said  he,  "I  have  brought  Him  out  to  you  again,  that  you  may 
know,  once  more,  that  I  have  found  no  fault  in  Him."  Then,  turning  to 
the  figure  at  his  side,  drawn  together  with  mortal  agony,  and  looking  at 
the  pale,  worn,  and  bleeding  face,  through  which  there  yet  shone  a  calm 
dignity  and  more  than  human  beauty  that  had  touched  his  heart,  and 
might  touch  even  the  heart  of  Jews,  he  added,  "  Behold  the  Man !  " 
Would  they  let  the  scourging  and  mockery  suffice,  after  all  ? 

But  religious  hatred  is  the  fiercest  of  all  passions.  Jesus  had  been 
sleepless  through  the  night;  worn  with  anticipations  of  the  terrible  future, 
and  with  the  sadness  of  an  infinite  sorrow ;  disfigured  by  the  lawless 
treatment  of  the  palace-yard,  and  bowed  by  the  torture  of  the  scoiirgiug ; 
and  now  stood,  utterly  exhausted,  before  all  eyes — yet  a  Form  demanding 
reverence. 

But  the  priests  were  unmoved.  What  revenge  would  satisfy  their 
hatred  so  long  as  still  more  could  be  had  ?  The  siglit  of  their  victim  re- 
doubled their  ferocity.  Forgetful  of  their  profession  and  dignity,  the 
chief  priests — the  primate  and  prelates  of  the  day — their  servants  and 
the  servile  crowd  echoing  their  cry,  answered  the  procurator's  appeal  only 
by  loud  shouts  of  "  Crucify  !  Crucify  !  " 

"  Take  ye  Him,  then,  and  crucify  Him,  if  it  must  be  so,"  answered 
Pilate.     "  I  have  found  Him  blameless  of  any  offence  against  Ptoman  law 


702  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

for  -wliicli  I  could  coudemn  Him."     As  if  he  wished  to  say,  "  I  Avill  not  be 
your  mere  tool !  " 

The  first  accusation  had  therefore  failed,  and  was  dropped.  But  the 
priests  were  determined  to  have  His  life,  and  forthwith  demanded  it  on  a 
new  ground. 

"  He  shall  not  escape  with  life  !  "  cried  their  spokesman.  "  If  He  has 
committed  no  crime  worthy  of  death  by  Koman  law,  we  have  a  Jewish  law 
Avhicli  He  has  outraged,  and  by  it  He  must  die.  He  has  claimed  to  be  the 
Son  of  God — the  Messiah — which  He  is  not,  and  for  that,  by  our  law, 
which  thou  hast  sworn  to  ujahold,  He  has  been  sentenced  to  death— ))y 
stoning,  in  any  case  ;  by  the  cross,  if  thou  allowest  it.  Thou  art  bound  to 
uphold  our  decision  and  confirm  our  sentence." 

Thousands  were  eager  to  put  Jesus  to  death,  with  Pilate's  jDermission  or 
without,  now  that  the  high  priests  had  roused  their  fanaticism.  The 
zealots  would  do  it  as  a  meritorious  act.  But  such  an  outbreak  Pilate 
dreaded.  He  would,  therefore,  have  yielded  without  hesitation,  but  even 
to  his  frivolous  soul  there  was  an  ominous  sound  in  the  name  "  Son  of 
God."  Might  he  be  braving  the  wrath  of  the  G  ods,  and  what,  comi^ared 
to  that,  was  the  utmost  these  wretched  Jews  could  do  ? 

The  irresolute  man — with  no  force  of  character,  and  too  unprincipled  to 
be  an  upright  judge,  if  the  right  were  not  first  of  all  politic — was  alarmed. 
Perhaps,  if  he  brought  Jesus  before  him,  privately,  once  more,  a  way  out 
of  the  dilemma  would  present  itself.  There  was  also  that  dream  of  Procla 
to  frighten  him. 

Eetiring,  therefore,  into  the  palace,  he  ordered  Jesus  to  be  set  before 
him  again. 

"What  was  that  they  said,"  asked  he,  "about  Thy  being  the  Son  of  God? 
Whence  comest  Thou  ?     Art  Thou  of  human  birth  or  more  p  " 

The  dignity  of  spotless  innocence,  outraged  by  the  very  representative 
of  justice,  forbade  a  rejaly.  Anything  He  might  have  said,  however  clear, 
would  moreover  have  been  unintelligible  to  the  heathen  governor,  with  his 
utter  want  of  moral  earnestness,  and  would  have  been  fruitless.  Jesus 
therefore  remained  silent.  Pilate  had  abundant  means  of  judging  from 
the  past,  and,  besides,  it  was  no  question  of  birth  or  origin,  but  a  simple 
matter  of  uprightness  he  was  called  on  to  decide.  If  his  prisoner  were 
innocent,  he  had  a  right  to  be  set  free,  whoever  He  might  be. 

Pilate's  pride  was  touched  by  the  silence.  His  momentary  tenderness 
turned  into  towering  passion  ;  for  power,  when  it  feels  itself  in  the  wrong, 
is  the  more  ready  to  di-own  conscience  by  violence  towards  the  weakness 
it  wrongs.  "  Do  you  refuse  to  answer  Me  ?  "  he  asked,  in  flashing  anger. 
"  Do  you  not  know  that  your  life  is  in  my  hands,  and  hangs  on  my  nod  ? 
That  I  can  crucify,  or  release  Thee,  at  my  pleasvire  ?  " 

Had  he  been  self-possessed  at  the  moment,  and  able  to  ponder  things 
aright,  he  would  have  seen  an  answer  to  his  question,  even  in  Christ's 
silence.  For  it  is  certain  that  He  in  whose  lips  no  deceit  was  ever  found, 
would,  on  the  instant,  have  honourably  confessed  that  He  was  only  a  man, 
had  lie  been  no  more.  His  very  silence  was  a  testimony  to  His  Divine 
dignity. 


BEFORE    PLLATE.  703 

But  He  was  now  silent  no  longer.  "You  liave  indeed,"  said  He,  "power 
over  me,  but  you  would  have  none  were  it  not  given  you  from  God  above. 
But  your  sin,  though  great,  in  condemning  me  against  your  conscience, 
and  exercising  on  me  the  power  granted  you  by  God,  is  not  so  great  as 
that  of  others ;  for  you  are  only  an  instrument  in  His  hands  to  carry  out 
His  counsels.  The  chief  guilt  lies  on  those  who  have  delivered  me  to  you, 
to  force  you  to  carry  out  their  will  against  me.  Theirs  is  the  greater  sin ! " 
Even  in  His  lowliest  humiliation.  He  is  tender  and  pitiful  to  the  man  who 
has  done  Him  so  much  wrong,  and  bears  Himself  towards  Him,  Eoman 
governor  though  he  be,  as  if  their  respective  positions  had  been  reversed. 
He  has  nothing  to  say  of  His  own  agonies  or  unjust  treatment,  but  only 
warning  earnestness  at  the  thought  of  the  sin  that  was  being  wrought  by 
men  against  their  own  souls. 

The  words  and  the  whole  conduct  of  Jesus,  struck  into  the  heart  of  the 
Soman.  Presence  of  mind  and  self -respectful  dignity,  even  in  the  most 
helpless  victim  of  injustice,  have  an  irresistible  power  over  the  oppressor. 
How  much  more  such  a  unique  grandeur  as  diffused  itself  round  this 
mysterious  Man !  Pilate  was  more  than  ever  resolved  to  release  Him. 
Eeturning  once  again  to  the  tribunal,  Jesus  at  his  side,  he  strove  to  bring 
the  priests  and  the  crowd  to  content  themselves  with  what  their  victim 
had  already  suffered. 

But  the  priests  and  Kabbis  had  hit  upon  a  new.terror  for  the  unrighteous 
judge.  Hardly  waiting  to  hear  his  first  words,  they  raised  a  cry,  which 
they  and  the  mob  kept  shouting  till  Pilate  was  thoroughly  alarmed  and 
imnerved.  "  If  you  let  this  man  go,  you  are  not  true  to  Caesar.  Any  one 
that  makes  himself  a  king,  as  He  has  done,  declares  himself  against  Cassar." 

Pilate  knew  the  jealous,  suspicious  character  of  Tiberius,  and  feared  his 
displeasure  the  more,  because  his  conscience  told  him  how  he  had  abused 
his  office  by  every  form  of  tyranny,  so  that  an  appeal  to  Rome  might  well 
be  fatal  to  him.  Should  he  expose  himself  to  the  displeasure  of  the 
Emperor  .P  He  was  ready  for  any  act  of  weak  unrighteousness,  rather  than 
brave  a  censure  from  Capreae,  far  less  the  risk  of  imperial  vengeance.  He, 
perhaps,  tried  to  believe  that  he  could  not,  in  any  case,  save  Christ's  life, 
and  flattered  himself  that  he  had  acted  with  exceptional  uprightness. 
He  must,  after  all,  look  to  himself  first.  Yfould  he  bring  down  on  himself 
a  recall,  perhaps  banishment,  or  even  worse,  to  save  a  Jew,  because  justice 
demanded  his  doing  so  ?  "  Who,  in  my  position,"  doubtless  thought  the 
mere  politician,  "would  dream  of  committing  such  a  folly?  Shall  I  sacri- 
fice myself  for  any  one  ?     No  !  " 

Furious  at  the  priesthood  and  the  rabble,  who  kept  shouting  the  hateful 
insinuation  that  clemency  would  be  treason  to  Cassar,  Pilate  once  more 
took  his  official  seat.  It  was  now  about  nine  o'clock,  and  he  had  at  last 
given  way,  though  with  bitter  mortification.  He  would  not,  however, 
surrender  without  another  effort  to  carry  his  point,  for  he  was  alarmed 
alike  at  Jesus  and  about  the  Emperor. 

Turning  to  Jesus,  still  wearing  the  crown  of  thorns  and  the  scarlet 
cloak,  in  a  burst  of  unconcealed  contempt  against  the  Jews,  as  impolitic  as 
it  was  useless,  he  cried,  "  Behold  your  king !  "     The  only  answer  was  a 


70-1  THE    LIFE    OF    CHRIST, 

hurricane  of  cries,  "Away  with  Him,  away  with  Him,  crucify  Him!" 
'•What!"  cried  Pilate,  with  Ivcen  withering  mockery,  "shall  1  crucify  your 
king  ?  "  As  if  to  say  that  one  so  humiliated  and  outcast  was  all  the  king 
they  deserved. 

Caiaphas  and  Hannas,  and  the  group  round  them,  wei-e  however  more 
than  a  match  for  him.  They  had  an  answer  ready  which  would  force  his 
hand,  if  he  had  any  thought  of  still  holding  out.  "  We  have  no  king  but 
Ca3sar,"  rose  all  round  him;  "we  want  no  other  king!"  "The  hypocrites," 
doubtless,  thought  Pilate,  "with  the  souls  of  slaves.  Tiberius,  himself, 
has  not  yet  ventured  to  take  the  name  of  king,  or  Lord ;  and  these,  his 
mortal  enemies,  priests  too,  pretending  to  be  the  heads  of  religion,  pay 
him  homage  as  king,  without  being  asked,  only  to  compel  me,  by  their 
pretended  loyalty,  to  carry  out  their  revenge  against  0)ie  so  much  better 
than  themselves." 

It  was  Friday,  and  Sabbath — on  which  nothing  could  be  done — began  at 
sunset.  If  the  execution  were  delayed,  new  difficulties  might  rise  from 
Jewish  scruples  about  the  desecration  of  the  holy  day,  by  the  exposure  of 
bodies  on  the  cross  during  its  hours.  Who,  moreover,  could  tell  what 
might  happen  if  the  followers  of  Jesus  rose  against  His  enemies,  during 
this  respite,  to  release  their  Teacher.  Besides,  Pilate  felt  he  could  not 
now  save  Him,  and  wished  the  whole  matter  over  as  soon  and  as  quietly  as 
possible. 

He  therefore,  at  last,  gave  the  final  order  for  crucifixion. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

JUDAS — THE   CRUCIFIXION. 

A  MONG  the  spectators  of  the  trial  and  condemnation,  was  one  who  was 
■^-^  far  enough  from  joining  in  the  cries  of  the  high  priests,  and  their 
satellites, — Judas  Iscariot.  Whatever  might  have  been  his  thoughts  while 
sustained  by  excitement,  he  had  no  sooner  seen  Jesus  led  away  from  the 
garden  by  the  Roman  soldiers  than  all  changed.  The  excitement  was  over; 
the  whirlwind  of  evil,  on  which  his  spirit  had  for  the  time  ridden,  was 
spent,  and  in  its  place  had  come  the  awful  calm  of  retrospect  and  reflection. 
He  was  no  longer  needed  by  his  employers,  and  found  himself,  though 
lately  flattered  and  rewarded,  now  cast  ignominiously  aside  as  the  traitor 
he  w^as.  The  great  moon,  the  silent  night,  his  loneliness  after  such  agita- 
tion, the  sudden  breaking  up  of  the  past,  the  vision  of  the  three  years  now 
so  tragically  ended;  echoes  and  remembrances  of  the  love  and  Divine 
goodness  of  the  Master  he  had  betrayed;  a  sudden  realization  of  the 
infinite  future— with  its  throne,  its  unerring  Jiidge,  the  assembled  universe, 
the  doom  of  the  guilty,  and  the  joy  of  the  faithful— acted  and  reacted  on 
his  heart  and  brain. 

It  may  be  he  had  stood,  pale  with  remorse  and  anxiety,  through  all  the 
incidents  of  the  trial,  hoping  against  hope  that  his  Master  would  at  last 
put  forth  His  supernatural  power,  and  deliver  Himself,  as  he  had  expected. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  Judas  acted  as  he  had  done  to  precipitate  a  crisis. 


JUDAS — THE    CRUCIFIXION.  705 

and  compel  Jesus  to  such  a  display  of  His  power  as  would,  even  against    | 
His  will,  force  on  Him  the  assumption  of  the  worldly  Messianic  dignity,    i 
from  which  the  iinhappy  fallen  man  had  dreamed  of  political  greatness 
and  rich  official  state. 

To  his  unspeakable  horror,  he  found  all  his  calculations  miscarry.  Per- 
haps after  waiting  amongst  the  crowd  before  Pilate,  as  well  as  outside  the 
palace  of  Caiaphas,  he  had  heard  the  shouts  of  the  priests  and  the  mob, 
the  sound  of  the  knout  falling  on  the  bleeding  back,  the  awful  demand  for 
The  Choss — that  image  of  lowest  degradation  and  extremest  agony — and 
last  of  all,  the  fatal  utterance  of  Pilate,  "  I,  miles,  expedi  cruccm,"  "  Go, 
soldier,  prepare  the  cross."  Tiiey  had  fallen  in  a  Sodom-like  fire-rain  on 
his  soul,  and  he  felt  himself,  already,  the  accursed  of  time  and  eternity. 
The  light  of  life  passed  into  the  darkness  visible  of  despair.  Which  way 
he  looked  Avas  hell ;  himself  was  hell. 

Hurrying  to  the  Temple  with  his  wretched  gain,  for  which  he  had 
bartered  away  his  inheritance  of  one  of  the  twelve  thrones  of  the  resurrec- 
tion, and  an  apostle's  glory  here,  in  the  heavenly  kingdom  his  Master  had 
foimded,  he  sought  to  thrust  it  back  again  on  the  priests  from  whom  he 
had  got  it,  as  the  wages  of  guilt — paid  beforehand,  to  quicken  his  zeal. 
But  though  willing  to  prop  up  their  Temple  system  by  murder,  they  would 
on  no  account  compromise  their  own  ceremonial  purity  or  that  of  the 
sacred  treasury,  by  taking  back  the  coin,  which  they  themselves  had  pol- 
luted by  paying  as  the  price  of  crime.  They  could  see  the  stain  of  the 
blood  on  the  shekels,  but  not  on  their  own  souls.  Judas  had  served  their 
purpose,  and  was  nothing  to  them  now.  He  had  in  his  agony  pressed  into 
the  very  court  of  the  priests,  where  they  were  gathered — ground  sacred 
to  consecrated  feet.  "  Would  they  do  nothing  yet  to  save  his  Master  ? 
He  had  not  expected  they  would  go  to  such  awful  extremes.  Jesus  was 
innocent.  All  he  had  said  against  Him  was  untrue.  Would  they  not,  for 
their  holy  office  sake,  for  the  sake  of  the  holy  spot  on  which  they  then 
were,  undo  the  awful  offence  ?  " 

He  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  marble  pavement  on  which  they 
stood  with  bare  feet,  in  outward  reverence  of  the  Holy  of  Holies  close  by. 
The  stone  was  not  more  impassive  than  their  hearts.  "  What  is  it  to  us," 
answered  they,  "  what  you  have  done  ?  That  is  your  own  affair.  See  you 
to  it."  But  if  he  could  not  move  them,  he  could  at  least  so  far  clear  him- 
self by  casting  back  among  them  the  money  with  wdiich  they  had  hired 
him.  Throwing  it  on  the  pavement,  therefore,  he  went  out,  perhaps  in  the 
darkness  of  early  morning— for  possibly  he  did  not  wait  for  the  last  acts 
of  the  trial,  but  had  been  overwhelmed  by  the  condemnation  of  Jesus  by 
the  Jewish  authorities— and  hanged  himself  in  a  spot  of  ground,  till  then 
known  as  the  clay-j-ard  of  a  potter  of  the  town,  but  thenceforth  as  the 
Field  of  Blood.  Nor  was  even  this  the  end ;  for  the  cord  by  which  he  had 
suspended  himself  gave  way,  and  he  fell  beneath,  ruptured  and  revolting. 

To  put  into  the  treasury  money  defiled  from  any  cause,  was  unlawful. 
To  what  could  the  authorities  apply  it  ?  How,  better,  than  to  buy  the 
worn-out  clay  pit,  already  unclean  by  the  suicide  of  Judas,  for  the  further 
pollution  of  a  graveyard.     There  was  need  of  a  spot  in  which  to  bury 

z  z 


706  THE   LIFE    OF    CHRIST. 

foreign  Jews  who  might  die  in  Jerusalem.     So  the  scene  of  the  traitor's 
death  became  doubly  a  "  field  of  blood." 

Meanwhile,  preparations  were  being  rapidly  made  for  crucifixion. 

Death  by  the  cross  was  the  most  terrible  and  the  most  dreaded  and 
shameful  punishment  of  antiquity— a  punishment,  the  very  name  of  which, 
Cicero  tells  us,  should  never  come  near  the  thoughts,  the  eyes,  or  ears  of 
a  Roman  citizen,  far  less  his  person.  It  was  of  Eastern  origin,  and  had 
been  in  use  among  the  Persians  and  Carthaginians  long  before  its  emiiloy- 
ment  in  Wes-tern  countries.  Alexander  the  Great  adopted  it  in  Palestine, 
from  the  Phenicians,  after  the  defence  of  Tyre,  which  ho  punished  by 
crucifying  two  thousand  citizens,  when  the  place  surrendered.  Crassus 
signalized  its  introduction  into  Roman  use  by  lining  the  road  from  Capua 
to  Rome  with  crucified  slaves,  captured  in  the  revolt  of  Spartacus,  and 
Augustus  finally  inaugurated  its  general  use,  by  crucifying  six  thousand 
slaves  at  once,  in  Sicily,  in  his  suppression  of  the  war  raised  by  Sextus 
Pompeius. 

It  Avas  not  a  Jewish  punishment,  for  the  cases  mentioned  in  the  Old 
Testament  of  "hanging  up"  criminals  or  offenders  refer  only  to  their  dead 
bodies,  or  were  imitations  of  the  heathen  custom,  by  some  of  the  kings. 
For  Jews  to  crucify  a  Jew  would,  indeed,  have  been  impossible,  as  the 
national  sentiment  would  have  revolted  from  it.  The  cruelty  of  heathen-- 
ism  had  to  be  invoked  by  the  corrupt  and  sunken  priesthood,  before  such 
a  death  could  be  inflicted  on  any  member  of  the  nation,  far  less  on  one 
declared  by  the  procurator  himself  to  be  innocent.  It  Avas  the  punishinent 
inflicted  by  Rome — which  knew  no  compassion  or  reverence  for  man  as 
luan— on  the  worst  criminals,  on  highway  robbers,  rebels,  and  slaves,  or 
on  provincials,  who  in  the  eyes  of  Romans  were  only  slaves,  if  they  fell 
into  crime. 

The  cross  used  at  Calvary  consisted  of  a  strong  post,  which  was  carried 
beforehand  to  the  place  of  execution,  and  of  two  cross  pieces,  borne  to  the 
spot  by  the  victim,  and  afterwards  nailed  to  the  uprights  so  that  they 
slanted  forward,  and  let  the  sufferer  lean  on  his  stretched-out  hands,  and 
thus  relieve  the  pressure  of  his  body  downwards.  A  stout  rough  wooden 
pin,  in  the  middle  of  the  upright  post,  supplied  a  seat  of  fitting  agony,  for 
the  weight  of  the  body  would  otherwise  have  torn  it  from  the  cross. 

While  everything  was  being  prepared,  Jesus  was  again  exposed  in  the 
guard-room  to  the  insults  of  the  soldiery.  At  last,  however,  all  was  ready, 
and  the  scarlet  cloak  was  now  removed.  His  own  linen  abba  being 
replaced.  It  was  the  custom,  as  I  have  said,  for  offenders  themselves  to 
carry  the  transverse  pieces  of  their  cross,  and  these,  therefore,  were  laid 
on  the  shoulders  of  Christ,  faint  as  He  was  with  mental  and  bodily  distress. 
A  detachment  of  the  cohort  which  had  been  kept  in  the  court  of  the  palace, 
in  case  of  disturbance,  Avas  marched  out  under  a  centurion  to  guard  the 
procession  to  the  place  of  death,  the  officer  being  responsible  for  the  due 
execution  of  the  sentence.  Jesus  was  not,  however,  to  die  alone.  Two 
more  prisoners  were  led  off  to  suffer  with  Him ;  men  convicted  not  of  mere 
insurrection,  but  of  robbery — the  special  trouble  of  the  land  in  these  evil 
times,  even  till  Jerusalem  perished.     Pilate  could  hardly  have  intended  to 


JUDAS — THE    CRUCIFIXION.  707 

degrade  Jesus  in  the  eyes  of  tlie  Jews  by  associating  Him  with  enemies  of 
society;  but  the  thoughtlessness  which  permitted  his  forming  such  a  group 
of  A-ictims,  simply  to  empty  his  prison,  and  get  through  the  annual  Easter 
executions  at  once,  shows  how  superficial  an  impression  had  been  made  on 
his  light  nature  by  all  that  had  passed.  His  seriousness  had  been  written 
in  water;  heartlessness  and  utter  want  of  moral  sincerity  wore  his  pre- 
vailing mood. 

And  now  the  sad  procession  began.  It  was  about  ten  in  the  forenoon, 
for  at  least  an  hour  had  been  spent  in  getting  ready.  The  soldiers  stepped 
into  their  ranks,  and  the  prisoners  were  set,  under  guard,  in  their  places, 
each  carrying,  hung  from  his  neck,  a  whitened  board,  stating  in  large 
black  letters  tlie  offences  for  which  he  was  ajjout  to  die ;  unless,  indeed, 
as  in  some  cases,  a  soldier  bore  it  before  them.  Each,  also,  carried  the 
cross  beams  of  his  cross,  fastened  together  like  the  letter  V,  with  his  arms 
bound  to  the  projecting  ends. 

It  is  vain  to  attempt  to  follow  the  route,  for  the  whole  surface  of  Jeru- 
salem has  changed  since  then.  Roman  London  is  reached  only  at  a  depth 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen  feet,  though  the  history  of  our  island  is  com- 
paratively peaceful ;  but  Jerusalem  has  stood  siege  after  siege  till  the 
streets  of  Christ's  day  are  buried  below  the  ruins  of  successive  cities.  All 
we  know  is  that  the  place  of  execution  was  outside  the  walls,  to  the  north- 
west, at  the  side  of  a  leading  road,  to  let  the  spectacle  be  seen  by  the 
crowds  passing  and  repassing.  From  the  palace  of  Herod,  the  sad  pro- 
cession must  have  passed  out  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  castles  of 
Hippicus,  Phasael,  and  Mariamne,  thi'ough  the  Hebron  or  Jaffa  Gate,  or 
the  Gate  Gennath.  As  it  moved  slowly  on,  an  official  proclaimed  aloud 
the  names  of  the  prisoners,  and  the  offences  for  which  they  were  about  to 
die.  Four  soldiers  walked  beside  each,  as  the  special  guard  and  execu- 
tioners, the  rest  of  the  detachment  preceding  and  following. 

As  it  moved  through  the  narrow  streets,  a  great  crowd  accompanied  it. 
The  Temjole  had  special  claims  on  the  citizens  in  the  Passover  week,  and 
besides,  it  would  soon  be  Sabbath,  and  they  were  busy  with  their  worldly 
affairs,  and  loath  to  afford  the  time ;  yet  many,  both  friends  and  enemies, 
pressed  after  the  soldiers.  The  women  especially,  less  easily  diverted 
from  sorrow  and  pity,  either  by  religious  rites  or  every-day  duties, 
thronged  to  see  One  of  whom  they  had  heard  so  much  led  out  to  die.  In 
the  East,  men  and  women,  even  man  and  wife,  never  appear  in  public  to- 
gether, and  hence  all  were  free  to  show  then-  feelings  independently.  The 
Galilosans  in  the  city  had  been  taken  by  surprise,  and  had  had  no  time  to 
gather  at  the  trial  and  show  sympathy  with  their  countryman,  whom  ■so 
many  of  them  reckoned  as  a  prophet.  Only  fanatical  Jerusalem,  to  which 
the  cry  of  the  ^oriests  was  law,  and  to  whom  Jesus,  as  a  supposed  enemy 
of  the  Temple — the  idol  at  once  of  their  bigotry  and  their  pocket— was 
doubly  hateful,  had  learned  of  the  arrest  in  the  early  morning,  and  had 
gathered  to  yell  down  Pilate's  proposals  of  release. 

Two  incidents  only  are  recorded  of  the  march  to  the  place  of  execution. 
The  beams  laid  on  Jesus  soon  proved  too  heavy,  in  the  hilly  sti-eets,  for 
His  exhausted  strength,  and  His  slow  advance  with  them  so  delayed  tho 


708  THE   LIFE    OF   CIIKIST. 

procession  that  the  guard  grew  impatient,  and  having  seized  a  passer-by 
coming  from  the  country,  compelled  him  to  bear  them.  The  involuntaiy 
cross-hearer  was  a  foreign  Jew,  called  Simon,  from  Cja-ene,  in  North 
Africa — now  part  of  Tunis,  but  then  in  the  province  of  Libya.  Ptolemfeus 
Lao-i  had  carried  off  a  hundred  thousand  Jews  from  Palestine,  and  settled 
them  in  those  regions  of  North  Africa,  and  in  three  hundred  years  they 
had  increased  so  greatly  in  numbers,  that  a  special  synagogue  was  erected 
in  Jerusalem  for  the  pilgrims  they  yielded  to  the  great  feasts.  Simon's 
appeai'ance  marked  him  as  a  foreigner,  for,  in  the  East,  all  nationalities 
have  their  distinctive  dress,  and,  as  a  stranger,  the  infamy  of  ])eing  made 
to  carry  a  cross  would  be  less  likely  to  cause  a  stir.  It  may  be  that  he 
showed  sympathy  with  Jesu*;  but,  in  any  case,  his  service  to  Him  appears 
to  have  resulted  in  his  conversion,  with  all  his  family ;  for  it  is  easy  to 
believe  the  tradition  that  the  "Rufus  and  his  mother,"  of  whom  St.  Paul, 
a  quarter  of  a  century  later,  speaks  so  tenderly,  were  his  wife  and  one  of 
the  two  sons,  Alexander  and  Rufus,  mentioned  by  St.  Mark  as  known  to 
his  readers. 

From  the  moment  of  His  declaring  Himself  the  Messiah,  and  being 
condemned  to  die  for  doing  so,  Jesus  had  had  nothing  more  to  say  to  His 
judges.  No  cry  of  pain,  no  murmur  of  impatience  escaped  Him.  He  had 
realized  to  the  full  all  that  the  victorious  completion  of  His  work,  through 
self-sacrifice,  demanded,  and  bore  indignities  and  agonies  with  unbroken 
submission.  He  was  dying  to  free  mankind  from  the  bondage  of  the 
letter ;  to  break  for  ever  the  chains  of  Rabbinism  and  priestly  caste  from 
the  human  soul ;  to  inaugurate  the  reign  of  spiritual  religion ;  and,  above 
all,  to  atone  for  man's  sin,  and  then  enter  into  His  glory  with  the  Father. 
In  the  words  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the  joy  set  before  Him 
strengtheued  Him  to  endure  the  cross,  and  despise  the  shame. 

But  His  lips,  shut  for  hours,  opened  once  more  on  the  way  to  His  death. 
The  road  was  lined  with  spectators,  many  of  whom  did  not  attempt  to 
conceal  their  sympathy ;  and  a  great  crowd  followed,  both  of  men  and 
women — the  latter  filling  the  air  with  loud  lamentations  and  wailings. 
Touched  with  their  grief,  so  strangely  sweet  after  such  a  long  bitterness 
of  mockery  and  clamorous  hatred,  the  Innocent  One  stopped  on  His  way, 
and  turning  to  them,  bade  them  lament,  not  for  Him,  but  for  themselves. 

"Daughters  of  Jerusalem,"  said  He,  "weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for 
youi'selves."  His  death  was  the  fulfilment  of  the  counsels  of  God,  and 
His  apparent  overthrow  was  His  real  and  .eternal  victory.  They  might 
have  wept  for  Him,  had  He  shrunk  from  corajjleting  the  work  given  Him 
to-do,  and  failed  to  perfect  the  great  plan  of  human  salvation.  "Weep 
for  yourselves  and  for  your  children.  The  fate  of  Jerusalem,  which  I  love 
so  well,  is  sealed,  and  will  be  sad  indeed  compared  with  my  momentary 
pains.  For  if  your  enemies  do  these  things  to  me,  a  green  fruit-bearing 
tree  that  deserves  to  live  and  be  cherished — me,  pronounced  guiltless  even 
by  the  judge  himself— what  will  they  do  with  the  dry  and  worthless  tree 
of  the  nation,  guilty  before  God  and  man?  Israel  is  a  dry,  leafless  trunk 
that  will  bear  no  more  fruit,  but  is  doomed  to  the  burning.  What  will  be 
its  fate,  if  mine,  who  am  green  and  fresh  in  innocence,  be  what  it  is  ? 


JUDAS — THE    CEUCIFIXION.  709 

Yet  the  green,  cut  dowu,  will  sprout  again,  but  the  dry  -will  perish  for 
evermore  !  In  that  day  the  curse  of  ages  of  sin  and  hypocrisy  will  over- 
whelm your  city  and  Temple,  with  its  watchers  and  shepherds." 

He  had  always  loved  children,  and  had  often  pressed  them  to  His  heart 
and  carried  them  in  His  arms;  but  the  vision  of  the  awful  future  rising 
before  Him  Avas  darkened  by  this  very  tenderness.  To  bear  children  was 
the  glory  of  every  Jewish  wife;  but  now  He  told  them  that,  in  after  years, 
they  would  call  her  blessed  who  had  never  borne.  "  Your  nation  has  not 
known  the  day  of  its  visitation ;  it  has  pushed  back  my  hand  when  I 
offered  it  life  here  and  hereafter ;  it  has  killed  its  prophets  and  stoned 
them  that  were  sent  to  it  from  God ;  and  at  last  the  things  of  its  peace  are 
hid  from  its  eyes.  Instead  of  life  let  it  wish  a  grave,  ere  its  despairing 
cry  rises,  that  the  mountains  should  fall  on  it,  and  the  hills  cover  it  from 
the  avenging  wrath  of  God."  Words  of  tender  human  love,  welling  up 
from  the  depths  of  a  sacred  pity,  even  under  the  shadow  of  the  cross  ! 

The  spot  on  which  the  crosses  were  to  be  erected  stood  near  some  of  the 
gardens  of  the  suburbs,  and  was  known  by  the  Aramaic  name,  Golgotha, 
of  which  Cranion,"a  skull,"  given  as  the  name  by  St.  Luke,  writing  for 
Gentiles,  is  the  Greek  translation,  and  Calvaria,  Calvary,  the  Latin.  From 
a  fancied  allusion  to  the  shape  of  a  skull,  tradition  has  handed  it  down  as 
a  hill ;  but  all  the  four  Gospels  call  it  simply  a  place,  as  if  it  had  its  name 
only  from  its  bare  smoothness  and  slight  convexity,  as  we  speak  of  the 
hroio  of  a  hill  from  its  rounded  slope.  It  may  have  been  the  usual  place 
of  execution,  but  there  is  nothing  in  the  name  to  lead  to  the  belief ;  for,  in 
that  case,  it  would  have  been  spoken  of  as  a  place  of  slculls,  had  they  been 
permitted  to  lie  unburied  in  Judea,  which  was  impossible. 

The  cross  pieces  were  nailed  in  their  places  on  the  upright  posts,  some- 
times before,  sometimes  after,  the  ])osts  themselves  had  been  set  up. 
Jesus  and  His  fellow-sufferers,  in  either  case,  were  now  stripped,  as  they 
had  been  before  they  were  scourged— a  linen  cloth  at  most  being  left 
round  their  loins.  The  centre  cross  was  set  apart  for  our  Lord,  and  He 
was  either  laid  on  it  as  it  lay  on  the  ground,  or  lifted  and  tied  to  it  as  it 
stood  upright.  His  arms  stretched  along  the  two  cross  beams,  and  His 
body  resting  on  the  projecting  pin  of  rough  wood,  misnamed  a  seat.  The 
most  dreadful  part  then  followed ;  for,  though  even  the  Egyptians  only 
tied  the  victims  to  the  cross,  the  Eomans  and  Cai'thaginians  added  to  the 
torture,  by  driving  a  huge  nail  through  the  palm  of  each  hand,  into  the 
wood.  The  legs  were  next  bent  up  till  the  soles  of  the  feet  lay  flat  on  the 
upright  beam,  and  then  they,  too,  were  fastened,  either  separately,  by  two 
great  iron  nails,  or  over  each  other,  by  one. 

A  single  touch  of  humanity  was  permitted  during  these  preparations — 
the  offer  of  a  draught  of  the  common  sour  wme  drunk  by  the  soldiery, 
mingled  with  some  stupefying  bitter  drug,  usually  myrrh.  The  ladies  of 
Jerusalem  made  it,  indeed,  their  special  task  to  provide  it  for  all  con- 
demned persons.  But  Jesus  would  take  nothing  to  cloud  His  faculties, 
even  though  it  miglit  mitigate  His  pain.  The  cross  was  now  lifted  up  and 
planted  in  the  ground,  with  a  rough  shock  of  undescribable  agony.  It  was 
perhaps  then  that  the  first  words  uttered  on  it  rose  from  His  lips:  "Father, 


710  THE    LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

forgive  tliem,  for  they  know  not  wliat  they  do,"— words  breathing  love, 
patience,  submission,  gentleness,  and  goodv/ill,  not  only  towards  the 
soldiers,  who  were  the  blind  servants  of  power,  but  even  to  Pilate  and 
Caiaphas,  Hannas  and  Jerusalem  ! 

Racked  by  the  extremest  pain,  and  covered  with  every  indignity  which 
men  were  wont  to  heap  on  the  greatest  criminals ;  forsaken  and  denied  by 
His  disciples,  no  sigh  escaped  His  lips,  no  cry  of  agony,  no  bitter  or  falter- 
ing word ;  only  a  prayer  for  the  forgiveness  of  His  enemies.  They  had 
acted  in  blindness,  under  the  impulse  of  religious  and  political  fanaticism; 
for,  to  use  St.  Paul's  words,  had  they  known  it,  they  would  not  have  cruci- 
fied the  Lord  of  Glory.  They  thought,  without  doubt,  that  they  were  doing 
a  service  well-pleasing  to  God  in  putting  Him  to  death.  It  stood  Avritten 
in  the  books  of  Moses,  "  Cursed  be  he  who  does  not  fulfil  the  words  of  the 
law  to  do  them,"  and  tliey  fancied  they  were  obeying  this  command  in 
crucifying  Him  for  slighting  their  additions,  which  they  confounded  with 
the  word  of  God.  In  spite  of  all  their  school  learning  they  were  blind  to 
the  true  meaning  of  the  Scriptures  ;  though  this  ignorance  was  not  guilt- 
less, for  He  had  sought  for  three  years  to  rouse  them  to  a  better  know- 
ledge. But  their  guilt  was  in  some  measure  lessened  by  the  influence  on 
their  minds  of  education  and  the  prescriptions  of  centuries,  which  had 
shut  their  eyes  to  the  light  He  brought  them.  His  prayer  that  His 
heavenly  Father  would  pardon  them  was  only  a  last  utterance  of  the  love 
of  whicli  He  had  been  the  embodiment  and  expression  through  life,  and 
the  fitting  illustration  of  His  words,  that  He  caine  to  call  the  sick,  not 
those  who  had  no  need  of  a  physician. 

The  "  title  "  that  had  been  borne  before  Him,  or  hung  from  His  neck,  was 
now  nailed  on  the  jorojecting  top  of  the  cross,  over  His  head.  That  all 
classes  might  be  able  to  read  it,  Pilate  had  it  written  in  the  three  languages 
of  the  country — the  Aramaic  of  the  people,  the  Latin  of  the  Romans,  and 
the  Greek  of  the  foreign  population.  It  proclaimed  Him  The  King  or 
THE  Jews,  but  seems  to  have  run  differently  in  each  language,  to  judge 
from  the  variations  in  the  Gospels. 

ISTo  tribute  could  have  been  more  fitting  or  more  prophetic  than  an 
inscription  which  revealed  unconsciously  the  relation  of  tlie  Cross  to  all 
the  nationalities  of  the  world.  The  crucifixion  was  now  completed,  and 
there  only  remained  the  weary  interval  till  death  came  to  deliver  the  suf- 
ferers from  their  agonies.  Meanwhile  the  troops,  with  their  centurion, 
kept  the  ground  and  guarded  the  three  crosses,  for  they  were  answerable 
with  their  lives  for  the  due  carrying  out  of  the  execution. 

The  four  soldiers — a  quaternion— specially  detailed  to  carry  out  tlie 
sentence  of  the  procurator,  were  now  free  to  appropi-iate,  as  their  perqui- 
sites, the  clothes  of  the  three  victims.  The  outer  garments  of  Jesus  they 
divided  into  four  shares — tearing  the  larger,  to  make  the  division  equal, 
for  they  were  not  worth  keeping  entire.  The  inner  robe,  however,  like  the 
robes  of  the  priests,  was  of  one  piece,  woven  from  the  top  without  any  seam 
or  stitching,  and  v/ould  be  destroyed  by  rending.  The  dice  were  ready  in 
their  pockets,  and  one  of  their  brazen  helmets  would  serve  to  throw  them ; 
it  would  be  better  to  cast  lots  for  this,  and  let  him  who  won  the  highest 


JUDAS — THE   CRUCIFIXION.  711 

numljcr  keep  it  for  himself — and  so  it  was  done.  No  wonder  that  both 
Matthew  and  John,  looking  back  on  the  scene,  Avcro  struck  by  the  fact  that 
it  had  been  written  ages  before,  in  the  twenty-second  Psalm,  which  tho 
Jews  of  that  day,  as  well  as  Christians,  rightly  believed  to  refer  to  the 
Messiah:  "They  parted  my  garments  among  them,  and  for  my  vesture 
they  cast  lots." 

The  inscription  on  the  cross  had  been  Pilate's  revenge  for  the  condeni- 
nation  of  Jesus,  wrung  from  him  by  the  priests.  To  proclaim  Him,  the 
villager  of  Nazareth,  as  the  King  of  the  Jews,  marked  at  once  what,  iu  his 
opinion,  was  fitting  for  them,  and  flung  in  their  faces  a  bitter  reproach  of 
having  betrayed  their  own  nation  and  couutr3-raan,  to  Rome.  The  au- 
thorities of  the  Temple  were  indignant,  aud  yet  alarmed,  and  applied  to 
him  to  alter  it.  But  he  had  suffered  enough  at  their  hands,  and  smarting 
under  his  defeat  and  humiliation,  dismissed  thena  with  the  laconic  answer, 
"What  I  have  written  I  have  wi'itten." 

Meanwhile  the  fierce  heat  of  a  Syrian  noon  beat  down  on  tho  cross. 
The  suffering  in  crucifixion,  from  which  death  at  last  resulted,  rose  partly 
from  the  constrained  and  fixed  jiositiou  of  the  body  and  of  the  outstretched 
arms,  which  caused  acute  pain  from  every  twitch  or  motion  of  the  back, 
lacerated  hj  the  knout,  and  of  the  hands  and  feet,  pierced  by  the  nails. 
These  latter  were,  moreover,  driven  through  parts  where  many  sensitive 
nerves  and  sinews  come  together,  and  some  of  these  were  mutilated,  others 
violently  crushed  down.  Inflammation  of  the  wounds  in  both  bauds  and 
feet  speedily  set  in,  and  erelong  rose  also  in  other  places,  where  the  circula- 
tion was  checked  by  the  tension  of  the  parts.  Intolerable  thirst  and  ever- 
increasing  pain  resulted.  The  blood,  which  could  no  longer  reach  the 
extremities,  rose  to  the  head,  swelled  the  veins  and  arteries  in  it  unnatur- 
ally, and  caused  the  most  agonizing  tortures  in  the  brain.  As,  besides,  it 
could  no  longer  move  freely  from  the  lungs,  the  heart  grew  more  aud  more 
oppressed,  and  all  the  veins  were  distended.  Had  the  wounds  bled  freely, 
it  would  have  been  a  great  relief ;  but  there  was  very  little  bleeding.  The 
weight  of  the  body  itself,  resting  on  the  wooden  pin  of  the  upright  beam ; 
the  burning  heat  of  the  sun  scorching  the  veins,  and  the  hot  wind  drying 
up  the  moisture  of  the  body,  made  each  moment  more  terrible  than  the 
preceding.  The  numbness  and  stiffness  of  the  more  distant  muscles 
brought  on  painful  convulsions,  and  slowly  extending,  sometimes  through 
two  or  three  days,  at  last  reached  the  vital  parts,  and  released  the  sufferer 
by  death. 

Common  pity  would  have  left  the  victim  of  such  agony  to  die  iu  peace. 
But  it  is  reserved  to  the  malignant  hatred  and  passion  which  spring  from 
perverted  religious  zeal  to  ignore  compassion.  The  title  over  His  head 
was  as  offensive  to  the  people  as  to  the  priests  aud  Eabbis,  for  it  was  a 
virtual  ridicule  of  their  impotent  aspirations  after  universal  monarchy. 
Beneath  tho  cross  rose  the  same  cruel  mockery  as  the  procurator  had 
thought  not  beneath  the  dignity  of  Rome.  The  fierce  crowd  had  heard 
repeatedly  that  clay  of  Jesus  having  said,  as  was  asserted,  that  He  could 
destroy  their  magnificent  Tcmi:)le,  and  rebuild  it  in  three  days.  They  had 
heard  also  a  great  deal  about  His  miracles,  and  of  His  calling  Himself  the 


712  THE   LIFE    OF   CHUIST, 

Son  of  God;  but  it  .seemed  as  if  the  whole  must  liavc  been  a  dccepiioii, 
else  why  would  He  aiioAV  Himself  to  die  such  a  death  ?  There  were  taunts 
and  bitter  gibes  from  the  mob  and  the  soldiers,  and  triumphant  sneers  at 
His  having  met  the  fate  He  deserved ;  even  the  chief  priests  and  Ilal>bis 
and  elders,  indeed,  among  their  own  knots  and  groups,  degraded  them- 
selves to  the  level  of  the  raljble  in  their  unmanly  taunts.  "  Thou  that 
destroyest  the  Temple,  and  buildest  it  in  three  days,  show  that  Thou 
couldst  have  done  so,  by  saving  Thyself,  and  coming  down  from  the  cross," 
called  out  a  looker-on,  with  a  contemptuous  laugh.  "  If  Thou  be  the  Son 
of  God,  as  Thou  sayest,"  cried  another,  "  come  doAvn  from  the  cross."  "  He 
Avrought  miracles  to  save  others,"  said  a  high  priest  to  his  fellow,  "  by  the 
help  of  Beelzebub,  but  He  cannot  save  Himself  now  His  master  has  for- 
saken Him."  The  crowd,  catching  their  spirit,  bandied  from  one  to  another 
the  scoff,  "  If  He  be  the  Christ,  the  King  of  Israel,  the  Chosen  of  God,  let 
Him  descend  from  the  cross,  that  Ave  may  see  and  believe."  A  true  index 
to  their  religious  ideas  !  If  they  saw  Him  Avith  their  bodily  eyes,  by  a 
miracle,  come  down  from  the  cross,  they  would  believe !  Their  religion 
rested  on  their  five  senses.  The  invisible  spiritual  jiower,  in  which  Jesus 
taught,  did  His  work,  and  founded  His  kingdom,  had  no  existence  for 
them.  The  only  authority  for  their  faith  was  what  they  could  grasp  with 
their  hands  or  see  Avitli  their  eyes. 

Nor  was  the  only  railing  and  trial  of  bitter  mocking  fi'om  the  spectators. 
Affecting  indifference  to  their  own  sufferings,  and  perhaps  wishing  to  win 
a  poor  favour  with  the  crowd,  in  their  last  hours — perhaps  angry  that  Jesus 
had  left  both  them  and  Himself  to  die,  when  He  might  have  saved  them— 
the  two  unhappy  men  crucified  Avith  Him  cast  the  same  reproaches  in  His 
teeth.  But  a  strange  contrast  was  soon  to  display  itself.  One  of  the  tAvo, 
erelong,  awed  and  Avon  by  His  bearing  under  such  treatment — perhaps 
thinking  of  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  he  had  seen  Aveeping  by  the  Avay,  or 
of  the  words  of  Jesus  in  Avhich  He  spoke  of  the  distant  future  as  open  before 
Him  ;  perhaps  struck  by  the  title  over  the  Saviour's  head,  or  by  the  very 
taunts  Avhich  spoke  of  His  having  trusted  in  God,  and  having  claimed  to 
be  the  Christ,  the  Chosen,  the  Sou  of  the  Highest ;  perhaps  recollecting 
some  Avords  of  His,  heard  in  happier  days — repented  of  his  bitterness,  and 
turned  to  his  companion,  to  persuade  him  also  to  kinder  thoughts.  "  Have 
you  no  fear  of  God,"  said  he,  "Avhen  you  think  you  are  dying  the  same 
death  as  He  Avhom  you  are  still  reproaching  ?  It  is  no  time  to  mock,  when 
you  are  so  near  death.  Besides,  Ave  are  dying  justly,  for  Ave  are  receiving 
the  fitting  punishment  of  our  deeds  ;  but  this  man,  as  the  very  procurator 
has  said,  has  done  nothing  amiss." 

Then  foUoAved  Avords  which  slioAved  that  his  repentance  and  faith  were 
alike  sincere  and  intelligent.  He  had  been  silently  watching  the  meek  and 
patient  endurance  by  his  mysterious  Fellow-Sufferer,  of  all  that  His 
enemies  could  do,  and  had  come  to  the  belief  that  He  AA-as,  in  reality,  the 
Messiah  He  declared  Himself  to  be.  With  death  near,  the  folly  of  the 
earthly  dreams  of  his  countrymen — for  he  must  have  been  a  Jcav — flashed 
on  his  mind.  As  tlie  Messiah,  He  AA'ho  now  hung  in  agony  must  have  a 
Kingdom  of  Avhicli  death  could  not  deprive  Him,  and  it  must  be  in  the 


JUDAS — THE    CEUCIFIXION.  713 

world  beyond,  since  He  had  only  a  cross  here.  He  -would  doubtless  enter 
on  it,  as  even  the  Eabbis  taught,  at  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  reign 
over  it  for  all  future  ages. 

"  0  Lord,"  said  he,  therefore,  turning  as  far  as  he  could  towards  Jesus 
as  he  spoke,  "  remember  me  when  Thou  comest  into  Thy  kingdom." 

"  This  day,"  replied  Jesus,  '"'  thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

To  have  confessed  his  faith  when  Christ  hung  on  the  cross,  and  was 
deserted  even  by  His  Apostles,  won  for  him  the  high  reward  of  being  the 
first  trojjhy  of  the  victory  that  cross  achieved.  His  ideas  might  be  vague 
and  obscure  enough  ;  but  the  broken  heart  and  trustful  love  which  ixttercd 
them  made  them  dear  to  the  Saviour.  Angry  blasphemies  alone  had 
hitherto  greeted  Him,  but  now  came  this  prayer,  dropping  like  balm  on 
His  wounded  spirit!  Calmly,  and  with  the  bounty  of  a  king — though  now 
nailed  to  the  cross— He  showed  His  answering  love  by  the  gift  of  Divine 
pardon  of  sin,  and  the  bestowment  of  a  crown  in  Paradise  ! 

The  Eleven  had  never  gathered  again  after  the  arrest,  having  been  too 
much  alarmed  even  to  venture  singly  into  the  crowd  which  stood  outside 
the  cordon  of  troo]is  round  the  three  crosses.  John,  alone,  showed  courage 
enough  to  follow  Plis  Master  to  Calvary,  and  to  cheer  Him  by  the  proof  of 
fidelity  in  at  least  one  heart.  Christ  had,  indeed,  foreseen  that  He  would 
be  deserted  thus  in  His  hour  of  need ;  but  He  was  too  near  His  triumph 
to  notice  their  absence  as  otherwise  He  might.  The  veil  between  Him 
and  His  eternal  glory  Avas,  each  moment,  fading  into  the  upper  light,  and 
had  He  not,  even  now,  won  the  first  triumph  of  His  redeeming  love,  to 
bear  with  Him  to  heaven  ? 

The  last  sight  wo  have  of  John,  before  the  crucifixion,  is  in  the  court- 
3'ard  of  the  high  priest,  where  his  silence  and  prudent  keeping  in  the 
background  saved  him  from  the  danger  before  which  Peter  had  fallen. 
He  had  seen  Jesus  led  away  to  Pilate,  and,  apparently,  followed  Him  to 
the  palace,  waiting  in  the  angry  crowd  till  the  weak  time-serving  pro- 
cui'ator  had  given  Him  up  to  the  cross.  He  may  have  left  as  soon  as  the 
end  was  known,  to  hasten  into  the  city  with  the  sad  news,  to  those  anxious 
to  hear ;  above  all,  to  tell  her  whose  soul  the  sword  was  now  about  to 
pierce  most  keenly.  Mary,  perhaps,  heard  her  Son's  fate  from  his  lips. 
She  had  come  to  Jerusalem  to  be  near  Him,  but  we  do  not  know  when ; 
for  she  was  not  one  of  the  group  of  pious  Galilsean  women  who  habitually 
followed  Him,  though  she  was  with  them  at  this  moment.  Hoav  many 
were  together  is  not  told ;  but  Mary  at  least,  on  hearing  John's  words, 
determined,  in  her  love,  to  go  at  once  to  Calvary,  and  some  round  her  re- 
solved to  go  with  her.  Her  own  sister,  A?ho,  it  may  be,  was  Salome,  the 
mother  of  John ;  Mary,  the  wife  of  Clopas  ;  and  Mary  from  Magdala,  on 
the  banks  of  Gennesareth,  would  attend  her,  and  John,  faithful  as  a 
woman,  would  not  stay  behind. 

The  first  sight  the  Virgin  had  of  her  Son  was  as  He  hung  on  the  cross, 
at  the  roadside,  mocked  Ijy  the  crowd  and  the  passers-by,  and  scowled  at 
by  the  high  priests  and  dignitaries,  who  had  come  out  to  glut  the  hatred 
they  bore  Him  by  the  sight  of  His  agony.  A  supernatural  darkness — the 
sign  of  the  sorrow  and  wrath  of  heaven — had  fallen  on  the  landscape  soon 


714  THE   LIFE   OF   CUEIST. 

after  tlic  nailing  to  the  cross,  though  it  was  then  high  noon;  but  the  Bpec- 
tators  fancied  it  only  a  strange  incident  in  the  weather.  The  sufferer  had 
offered  His  prayer  for  His  murderers,  and  had  spoken  words  of  comfort  to 
the  penitent  spirit  at  His  side;  when,  as  His  eyes  Avandercd  over  the  crowd, 
He  saw,  through  the  gloom,  John,  standing  by  His  mother's  side.  None  of 
His  "  brothers  or  sisters  "  were  there,  for  it  was  His  resurrection  appa- 
rently that  first  won  them  to  His  cause.  Mary,  long  a  widow,  was  now  to  be 
doubly  bereaved.  John's  presence  there  proclaimed  his  heart.  Tlie  sight 
of  His  mother  in  tears ;  true  even  in  death ;  in  spite  of  danger,  or  of  her 
broken  heart,  or  of  the  reproaches  rising  on  every  side  ;  the  remembrance 
of  Nazareth  ;  the  thought  of  the  sorrows  that  so  often,  in  these  last  years, 
had  pierced  her  soul,  and  of  the  supreme  grief  that  now  overwhelmed  her; 
the  recognition  of  the  true  faith  in  Him,  shining  out  in  these  last  hours,  as 
born  by  miracle  to  be  a  Saviour,  the  holy  Son  of  God,  and  the  thought  that 
His  earthly  relations  to  her  were  closed  for  ever,  filled  the  heart  of  Jesus 
with  tender  emotions. 

Turning  His  face,  now  veiled  with  many  sorrows,  to  her  and  John,  He 
provided  for  the  one,  and  honoured  thc|^ fidelity  of  the  other.  A  few  words 
gave  Mary  a  home  and  another  son,  and  rewarded  the  friend  of  His  soul 
by  the  charge  to  take  the  place  to^vards  Mary  which  He  Himself  was 
leaving.  "  Woman,"  said  He,  in  tones  of  infinite  tenderness,  "  behold  in 
him  at  thy  side  thy  Son  given  back  to  thee."  Then,  looking  at  John,  he 
added,  "  To  thee  I  trust  my  mother ;  let  her  be  thy  mother  for  my  sake." 

Need  we  wonder  that  the  beloved  disciple,  writing  his  Gospel  in  old  age, 
felt  a  sweet  reward  in  recalling  an  incident  so  unspeakably  touching  ? 
Mary,  henceforth,  had  a  home,  for  John  took  her  to  his  own.  His  love  to 
her  Divine  Son  made  him  dearer  to  her  than  the  circle  of  Nazareth,  how- 
ever related.  In  Mary,  he  saw  a  second  mother ;  in  John,  the  widowed 
one  saw  a  son.  Nor  was  this  special  honour  the  only  reward  to  John  from 
the  cross.  His  Master  had  shown,  by  His  thoughts  for  others  rather  than 
Himself,  in  this  time  of  His  greatest  need,  that  He  was  still  what  He  had 
always  been.  Looking  up  to  Him,  John  saw  the  light  of  higher  than 
earthly  victory  on  His  pale  features,  and  felt  his  faith  confirmed  for  ever. 

It  was  now  three  o'clock,  and  Jesus  had  hung  on  the  cross  about  three 
hours.  Darkness  still  lay  like  a  pall  over  the  landscape,  as  if  nature,  less 
insensible  than  man,  refused  to  look  on  such  a  spectacle,  or  would  pre- 
figure the  sadness  one  day  to  be  spread  over  all  nations  for  the  sin  that 
had  caused  so  awful  a  sacrifice.  What  had  been  passing  in  His  spirit  no 
one  can  know.  As  a  man  He  had  a  nature,  in  all  things  except  its  sinless- 
ness,  like  that  of  the  race  at  large.  But  he  was  also  the  Divine  Son  of 
God,  for  a  time  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  now,  of  His  own  free  love  to 
man,  dying  as  a  ransom  for  sin.  We  accept  the  transcendent  mystery,  but 
we  cannot  hope  to  explain  it.  The  cross  was  but  the  culmination  of  a  long 
martyrdom.  His  soul  had  often  been  sore  troubled ;  His  sighs  had  been 
marked  even  by  His  disciples.  To  be  dying  for  the  sake  of  men,  and  yet 
to  be  treated  as  their  foe  ;  to  be  misconceived  and  misrepresented ;  to  have 
His  heart  full  of  infinite  love,  and  hear,  'even  now,  only  execrations, 
brought  back  for  a  moment  the  mental  agony  of  Gethsemane.     It  was  the 


JUDAS — THE    CRUCIFIXION,  715 

"power  of  darkness;"  the  final  strugle  with  llie  Prince  of  this  World. 
To  the  unendurable  torture  of  the  hody  there  was  added  the  unspeakal)le 
spiritual  pain  of  apparently  utter  rejection  by  man,  Avliom  He  loved  with  a 
love  so  Divine  !  His  Father  was  with  Him  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness 
as  much  as  in  the  Transfiguration  at  Csesarea  Philippi,  but  the  gathering 
clouds  and  gloom  of  these  last  awful  hours  made  it  seem,  for  an  instant, 
as  if  His  face  were  hidden.  The  shadow  of  death  passed  for  a  moment 
in  blackness  aiid  horror  over  His  spirit,  and  His  mental  anguish  relieved 
itself  by  a  great  cry  of  distress.  The  language  we  have  heard  from  our 
mother's  lips  and  have  spoken  in  childhood  may  be  laid  aside  in  after  years 
for  another,  to  meet  the  requirements  of  life;  and  Jesus,  doubtless,  in  these 
last  years,  had  often  used  the  Gi'eek  of  city  communities,  instead  of  His 
own  simple  Galila?an.  But  now,  the  sounds  of  infancy,  always  nearest  the 
heart,  and  sure  to  come  to  the  lips  in  our  deepest  emotion,  returned  in  His 
anguish,  and  in  words  which  He  had  learned  at  His  mother's  knee,  His 
heart  uttered  its  last  wail — 

"  Eloi !  Eloi  !  lama  sabachthani  ?  " 
"  My  God  !  My  God !  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 

The  first  words  sounded  like  the  name  of  the  great  prophet  Elijah,  the 
expected  herald  of  the  Messiah,  and  were  taken,  by  some  in  the  crowd,  for 
a  cry  that  he  should  come  to  save  Him.  Meanwhile,  one  near,  more  piti- 
ful than  the  rest,  caring  little  for  the  words,  saw  the  agony  of  which  they 
were  the  expression,  and  ran  and  filled  a  sponge  with  the  sour  wine-and- 
water  of  the  soldiers,  and  having  fixed  it  on  the  short  stem  of  a  hyssop- 
plant  growing  near,  put  it  to  His  lips ;  for  the  cross  was  quite  low,  tlie 
feet  of  Jesus  reaching  nearly  to  the  ground. 

A  moment  more,  and  all  was  over.  The  cloud  had  passed  as  suddenly 
as  it  rose.  Ear  and  wide,  over  the  vanquished  throngs  of  His  enemies, 
with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  uttering  His  shout  of  eternal  victory  before  enter- 
ing into  His  glory,  He  cried, 

"  It  is  Finished  !  " 

Then,  more  gently,  came  the  words : — 

"  Father,  into  Thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit." 

A  moment  more,  and  there  rose  a  great  cry,  as  of  mortal  agony ;  the 
head  fell.     He  was  dead. 

The  work  of  salvation  was  now,  at  last,  completed,  prophecy  fulfilled,  the 
Ancient  Covenant  at  an  end,  the  New  inaugurated.  Judaism  was  for  ever 
obsolete,  and  the  Holy  of  Holies  had  ceased  to  be  the  peculiar  presence- 
chamber  of  Jehovah  among  men.  Nor  was  a  sign  wanting  that  it  was  so; 
for  the  gi'eat  veil  of  purple  and  gold — sixty  feet  long  and  thirty  broad — 
before  the  inner  sanctuary  of  the  Temple,  suddenly  rent  itself  in  two,  from 
the  top  to  the  bottom,  at  the  moment  of  Christ's  death  ;  as  if  He  who  had 
hitherto  dwelt  there  had  gone  forth  to  lead  up  His  Eternal  Son  to  His 
own  right  hand.  And,  indeed,  not  only  the  yielding  veil  of  the  Temple, 
but  the  very  rocks  round  Calvary,  as  St.  Matthew  tells  us,  "were  rent, 
and  the  earth  quaked,  the  graves  were  opened,  and  many  of  the  saints 
sleeping  in  them  rose  from  the  dead,  and  went  into  the  Holy  City,  and 
appeared  unto  many." 


716  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

One  incident  is  recorded  of  this  moment  by  three  of  the  Evangelists, 
The  centurion  in  charge  of  the  troops  had  halted,  as  he  passed  tlie  cross, 
■when  Jesus  uttered  His  loud  death-cry.  He  was  within  a  few  yards  of 
Him,  and  must  have  involuntarily  fixed  His  gazo  on  TTim  at  such  a  sound. 
He  saw  the  change  pass  over  His  features  ;  the  light  of  life  leaving  them, 
and  the  head  suddenly  sink.  As  it  did  so,  the  earthquake  shook  the 
ground  and  made  the  three  crosses  tremble.  But  the  tremor  of  the  earth 
affected  the  Eoman  less  than  the  pierciiig  cry  and  sudden  death.  He  had 
likely  attended  many  crucifixions,  but  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  a  man 
dying  on  a  cross  within  three  hours.  He  had  never  heard  a  crucified  man, 
strong  to  the  last,  utter  a  shriek  that  shoAved,  as  that  of  Jesus  did,  the 
full  power  of  the  vital  organs  to  the  end.  He  felt  that  there  was  some- 
thing mysterious  in  it,  and  joining  Avith  it  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  of 
the  Sufferer,  he  broke  involuntarily  into  the  words,  "  Assuredly  this  man 
was  righteous ;  truly  this  was  God's  Son."  The  one  expression  was,  per- 
haps, equivalent  on  his  lips  to  the  other,  but  both  showed  that  even 
thoughtful  heathen  were  profoundly  affected  by  the  spectacle  they  had 
witnessed. 

Nor  was  the  effect  on  the  spectators  less  marked.  The  darkness,  the 
earthquake,  and  the  rending  rocks,  had  filled  them  with  alarm.  They  had 
been  noisy  and  ribald  enough,  for  a  time ;  but  when  all  was  over,  amidst 
such  strange  portents  of  nature,  they  were  glad  to  hasten  home  in  silence, 
with  the  demonstrations  of  awe  peculiar  to  Eastern  populations— smiting 
their  breasts  as  they  went.  The  incidents  of  Calvary  had  prepared  the 
way  for  the  triumph  of  Pentecost,  as  perhaps  the  rending  of  the  veil  had 
been  the  first  step  towards  the  change  of  feeling  in  the  great  company  of 
priests  who  soon  after  professed  themselves  Christians. 

The  Jewish  law,  as  I  have  said,  knew  nothing  of  crucifixion,  but  it  had 
been  not  uncommon  to  hang  up  the  body  of  a  criminal  after  death.  It 
was  not  permitted,  however,  that  it  should  be  exposed  after  sunset ;  burial 
the  same  day  was  enacted,  "  that  the  land  should  not  be  defiled."  The 
Eomans,  on  the  contrary,  left  the  bodies  on  the  cross  till  they  were  wasted 
away,  or  devoured  by  the  dogs,  the  jackals,  or  the  ravens,  as  they  fell  limb 
from  limb.  "  To  feed  the  crows  on  the  cross  "  was  a  familiar  expression. 
It  was  necessary,  therefore,  if  the  Jewish  law  were  to  be  honoured,  that 
the  permission  of  Pilate  should  be  given  for  putting  the  crucified  ones  to 
death,  if  tliey  had  not  already  died,  and  for  taking  down  and  burying  their 
bodies,  almost  at  once.  Next  day  was  the  great  Paschal  Sabbath,  and 
only  an  hour  or  two  remained  before  it  commenced.  Three  corpses  seen 
on  the  cross,  so  near  the  Temple  and  the  Holy  City,  on  a  day  so  sacred, 
Avould  make  great  commotion,  as  polluting  the  whole  place.  Besides,  the 
feelings  of  the  people  might  turn,  Avith  unknown  results. 

A  deputation  of  the  Temple  authorities,  therefore,  waited  on  Pilate,  to 
get  his  sanction  for  putting  to  death  any  of  the  three  Avho  might  yet  be 
alive.  The  common  way  to  do  so  was  in  keeping  with  Eoman  brutalit3^ 
The  legs  of  the  unfortunates  wei'e  broken  by  IjIoavs  of  clubs,  that  the 
shock  might  kill  them  at  once,  and  this  Pilate  authorized  to  be  done.  The 
tAvo  thieves  Avere  found  still  living,  and  the  horrible  order  was  forthwith 


JUDAS — THE    CEUCIFIXION.  717 

executed  ou  them ;  but  Jesus  was  dead  already,  and  tlicj  left  Him  un- 
touched. One  soklier,  however— resolved  that  there  should  be  no  doubt- 
plunged  his  spear  into  the  Saviour's  side,  making  a  gash  so  wide,  that 
Jesus  could  afterwards  ask  Thomas  to  put  his  hand  into  it,  and  so  deep, 
that  blood  and  water  poured  out  in  such  a  quantity  as  attracted  the  notice 
of  John,  T/ho  was  still  standing  close  by. 

That  any  one  should  die  so  soon  on  the  cross, — especially  one,  like  Jesus, 
in  the  prime  of  life,  and  unweakened  by  previous  ill-health,  and  in  so  great 
vigour  as  to  utter  such  a  shriek  as  that  with  which  He  expired, — appeared 
even  to  Christian  antiquity  to  imply  some  supernatural  cause.  But  the 
mingled  flow  of  blood  and  water  seems  to  point  unmistakably  to  another 
explanation.  The  immediate  cause  of  death  appears,  beyond  question,  to 
have  been  the  rupture  of  His  heart,  brought  about  by  mental  agony. 
Excess  of  joy  or  grief  is  known  to  induce  the  bursting  of  some  division  of 
the  heart,  and  the  consequent  flow  of  blood  into  the  pericardium,  or  bag, 
filled  with  colourless  serum,  like  water,  in  which  the  heart  is  suspended. 
In  ordinary  cases,  only  examination  after  death  discovers  the  fact,  but  in 
that  of  our  Lord,  it  was  disclosed  by  the  thrust  of  the  soldier's  spear.  In 
a  death  from  heart-rupture  "  the  hand  lis  suddenly  carried  to  the  front  of 
the  chest,  and  a  piercing  shriek  uttered."  The  hands  of  Jesus  were  nailed 
to  the  cross,  but  the  appalling  shriek  is  recorded. 

Jesus  died,  literally,  of  a  broken  heart ! 

The  heat  of  the  climate  in  the  East  has  led  to  the  custom  of  burial  fol- 
lowing almost  immediately  after  death,  but  there  wore  special  reasons  for 
that  of  Jesus  being  hurried.  It  was  the  eve  of  the  great  Passover  Sabbath, 
and  no  corpse  could  be  left  unbmied  to  defile  the  ceremonial  purity  of  the 
Holy  City  on  that  day.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  that  our  Lord  be 
buried  without  a  moment's  delay,  for  sunset,  when  the  Sabbath  began, 
was  rapidly  approaching. 

Bodies  of  Jewish  criminals  seem  to  have  been  buried  '.yith  ignominy  in 
the  Valley  of  Hinnom — known,  from  this  reason,  as  the  Valley  of  Corpses 
—  amidst  the  unclean  dust-heaps  of  the  city,  and  the  ashes  of  the  burned 
offal  of  the  Temple  sacrifices.  They  could  not  be  laid  in  the  graves  of 
their  fathers— the  common  burial-place  of  the  community — for  the  guilty 
could  not  be  buried  with  the  just;  but  were  huddled  out  of  sight,  the 
beheaded  or  hanged,  in  one  spot,  the  stoned  and  burned,  in  another.  But 
such  an  indignity  was  not  to  befall  the  sacred  form  of  the  Saviour. 

Among  the  spectators  of  the  crucifixion  there  had  been  one,  if  not  two, 
whose  position  might  have  enabled  them  to  be  of  service  to  Jesus  in  His 
hour  of  need,  before  the  high  priestly  court,  had  they  had  the  moral 
courage  to  avow  their  convictions.  Joseph,  a  member  of  the  ruling  class, 
known  by  the  name  of  his  birthplace,  Arimathea,  or  Ramathaim  Zophim, 
where  Samuel  the  prophet  was  born,  among  the  "  fruitful  hills  "  of  Ephraim, 
had  long  been  a  secret  disciple;  and  so,  also,  had  Nicodemus,  another 
member  of  the  theocratic  oligarchy.  Afraid  of  the  overwhelming  opposi- 
tion they  must  encounter  by  supporting  Christ,  they  timidly  kept  in  the 
background  duriiig  His  trial,  though  neither  voted  for  the  condemnation. 
Joseph  indeed,  if  not  both,  even  braved  public  opinion  and  the  wrath  of 


718  THE    LIFE    OF    CIIIIIST. 

tlicir  fcllow-counscllors,  by  following  Jesus  to  Calvary.  Now  that  lie  wag 
dead,  breaking  througli  all  weak  reserve  and  caution  at  last,  he  went  into 
the  city,  and  waited  on  the  procurator  in  his  palace,  to  ask  as  a  favour, 
that  the  body  of  Jesus  might  be  put  at  his  disposal.  He  would  fain  honour 
Ilis  lifeless  form,  if  only  to  show  regret  and  shame  for  unworthy  half- 
licarteducss  while  He  still  lived.  The  meekness  and  majestic  silence  under 
all  reproaches  and  indignities,  the  veiled  sky,  the  trembling  earth,  the 
prayer  of  the  Sufferer  for  His  murderers.  His  wail  of  mental  agony  as  if 
forsaken,  and  then  the  great  shriek  and  sudden  death,  had  awed  his  soiil 
and  lifted  him  far  above  fear  of  man.  He  had  been  waiting  for  tlie  King- 
dom of  God  before,  but  would  openly  identify  himself  with  its  Founder 
now. 

Pilate  was  astonished,  alike,  that  a  Jew  in  Joseph's  jjosition  should  make 
such  a  request,  and  that  Jesus  should  already  be  dead.  It  was  not  allowed 
to  remove  a  body  from  the  cross  without  formal  permission  from  the  pro- 
curator. The  Eleven,  with  one  exception,  had  left  their  Master  alone  amidst 
His  enemies  in  His  last  awful  hours,  and  even  the  women  who  had  watched 
the  cross  did  not  venture  to  ask  the  stony-hearted  governor  to  let  them  pay 
the  last  tribute  of  love  to  the  dead.  It  was  no  light  matter  Joseph  had 
undertaken;  for  to  take  part  in  a  burial  at  any  time  would  defile  him  for 
seven  days,  and  make  everything  unclean  which  he  touched  ;  and  to  do  so 
now  involved  his  seclusion  through  the  whole  Passover  week,  with  all  its 
holy  observances  and  rejoicings.  But,  conscience-stricken  for  the  past,  he 
had  risen  superior  alike  to  prudent  inaction  or  ceremonial  i^rejudice,  and 
would  render  his  Master  a  tribute  and  service  especially  sacred  in  the  eyes 
of  a  Jew.  It  was  one  of  the  most  loved  remembrances  of  the  hero  Tobit, 
in  the  old  times  of  the  first  exile,  that  he  had  buried  any  Jew  whom  he 
found  cast  out  dead,  round  Nineveh,  and  Josephus  could  add  no  darker 
horror,  a  generation  later,  to  the  picture  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  than  by 
telling  that  the  Zealots  would  not  bury  those  slain  in  the  city,  or  who  fell 
down  on  the  roads.  Joseph  would  not  suffer  Jesus  to  want  the  last  offices, 
with  all  the  indignity  the  neglect  would  imply. 

Sending  for  the  officer  who  had  charge  of  the  execution,  and  finding  that 
Jesus  Avas  really  dead,  Pilate  granted  Joseph's  strange  request.  A  brave 
deed  had  had  its  success.  The  humour  of  the  procurator  could  not  be 
counted  on,  and  the  rage  of  Joseph's  own  party  was  certain.  In  later  days 
a  servant.  Porphyrins,  who  ventured  to  ask  from  the  procurator  Firmilian, 
the  body  of  his  martyred  master,  the  presbyter  Pamphilus,  for  burial,  was 
himself  seized  and  put  to  death.  The  apocryphal  Acts  of  Pilate  describe 
Joseph  as  beseeching  the  favour  with  tears  and  entreaties,  and  they  thus 
rightly  mark  the  gravity  of  his  act ;  but  it  is  not  unlikely  that  a  meaner 
influence  came  to  his  help,  for  Philo  tells  us  that  Pilate's  special  character- 
istic was  his  openness  to  a  bribe.  Two  or  three  thousand  denarii  from  the 
Avealthy  supplicant  would  weigh  more  than  his  entreaties,  in  securing  his 
wish. 

A  written  order,  or  a  verbal  command  to  the  centurion,  put  the  body  at 
Toseph's  disposal. 

With  the  help  of  servants,  and  it  may  be  of  some  soldiers,  the  cross  was 


JUDAS — THE    CEUCIFIXION.  719 

quickly  cut  down  or  lifted  from  its  socket  and  laid  on  the  ground,  tlie 
cords  round  the  limbs  untied,  and  the  nails  drawn  from  the  hands  and  feet. 
An  open  bier  sufficed  to  carry  away  the  body  to  its  destined  resting-place. 

Among  the  Jews  the  hopes  of  the  future  were  closely  connected  with 
the  careful  preservation  of  the  body  after  death.  Like  the  Egyptians,  they 
attached  supreme  importance  to  the  inviolability  of  the  tomb  either  by 
time  or  violence,  and  no  less  to  the  checking  of  natural  decay  by  embalm- 
ing. To  perpetuate  their  existence  on  earth,  at  least  in  the  withered  mock- 
ery of  the  grave,  and  to  lie  in  the  Holy  Land  in  the  midst  of  their  fathers, 
has  at  all  times  been  the  most  sacred  wish  of  the  Jews.  In  the  days  of 
Jesus,  however,  an  additional  motive  for  burial  in  Palestine  and  a  careful 
preservation  of  the  body,  was  found  in  the  belief  of  the  Resurrection, 
which  was  to  take  place  first  in  Judea,  commencing  in  the  valley  under 
the  east  of  the  Temple.  Even  now  an  Israelite  always  seeks  to  have  some 
of  the  soil  of  the  Holy  Land  laid  in  his  grave,  that  the  spot  Avhere  he  rests 
may  be  counted  part  of  the  sacred  ground ;  if  indeed  his  body  has  not,  before 
the  Judgment,  made  its  way  through  the  land  and  sea  to  the  home  of  his 
fathers.  The  same  feeling  was  all-powerful  in  the  days  of  our  Lord;  for 
in  the  great  sieges  of  Jerusalem,  many  Jewish  fugitives  came  back  to  the 
city,  in  spite  of  the  horrors  they  had  already  striven  to  escape,  that  they 
might  count  on  at  least  the  last  of  all  blessings,  a  burial  in  its  holy  bounds. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Jerusalem,  like  all  other  parts  of  Palestine,  has 
hence,  since  the  earliest  times,  abounded  in  tombs  hewn  out  in  the  lime- 
stone rock.  Princes,  rich  men,  every  one  who  could  by  any  means  secure 
it,  desired  above  all  things  to  prejoare  for  themselves  and  their  families  an 
"  everlasting  house,"  and  such  a  tomb,  never  yet  used,  had  Ijeen  hewn  out 
in  the  hill-side  for  himself,  by  Joseph,  in  a  garden  not  far  from  Calvary. 

To  this  the  body  of  Jesus  was  now  taken.  Nicodemus  had  come,  with 
some  of  his  servants,  and  he  and  th^,  with  Joseph  and  his  attendants 
and  Mary  of  Magdala,  and  Mary  the  mother  of  James  the  Less  and  of  Joses, 
the  wife  of  Clopas,  and  perhaps  some  others  of  the  true-hearted  women 
from  Galilee,  were  the  only  followers  of  His  bier. 

Arrived  at  the  grave,  the  sacred  burden  was  laid  down  for  a  time,  till 
the  needed  preparations  were  made  for  placing  it  in  the  tomb.  The  whole 
body,  stained  as  it  was  with  blood,  Avas  tenderly  ^washed,  and  then  wrapped 
in  broad  bands  of  white  linen,  within  which  were  thickly  strewn  powdered 
myrrh  and  aloes,  which  had  been  provided  by  Nicodemus  for  the  imperfect 
embalmment  practised  by  the  Jews.  The  ends  of  the  bandages  were  appa- 
rently secured  on  the  inner  side  with  gum,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Egyptian 
dead.  After  a  last  kiss,  the  pledge  of  undying  love,  a  white  cloth  was 
finally  laid  over  the  face.  The  corpse  was  then  placed  in  a  niche  in  the 
rock,  and  since  there  was  no  stone  door  as  in  some  tombs,  a  great  stone, 
prepared  for  the  jDurpose,  was  rolled  against  the  entrance,  to  protect  the 
body  from  the  designs  of  enemies  or  the  attacks  of  wild  beasts.  It  was  only 
a  hurried  burial,  for  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  on  the  garden 
as  the  stone  was  set  up  against  the  entrance  to  the  grave. 

Even  then,  however,  there  were  some  hearts  that  could  not  leave  the 
spot.     Though  He  no  longer  spoke  to  them  and  they  no  longer  saw  Him, 


720  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

some  of  the  Galilioaii  fiiitlifiil  ones,  lingering  beside  His  resting-place,  sat 
down  on  the  earth,  before  the  door  of  the  tomb,  as  mourners.  In  the  even- 
ing stillness  and  gathering  twilight  they  seemed  even  yet  to  hear  His  voice 
and  see  His  form,  and  so  they  lingered  on,  as  near  as  miglit  l)c  into  the 
Sabbath  eve,  lamenting  Him  whom  they  had  lost. 

Meanwhile,  the  fears  of  the  chief  priests  and  their  parly  had  already 
awaked.  A  meeting  had  been  held  immediately  after  the  crucifixion,  and 
the  success  of  the  scheme  to  crush  Jesus  had,  doubtless,  been  the  subject  of 
hearty  mutual  congratulations.  But  they  dreaded  that  all  was  not  over. 
It  was  remembered  by  one  or  more  that  "  the  deceiver  "  had  spoken  darkly 
of  rising  from  the  dead  on  the  third  day,  and  His  disciples,  acting  on  this 
hint,  might  steal  the  body,  and  spread  abroad  the  assertion  that  He  had 
actually  risen,  misleading  the  jieople  more  than  ever,  l)y  claiming  for  Him 
Divine  honours.  It  was  hence  necessary  that  the  grave  should  be  watched 
for  three  days.  A  deputation  was  therefore  appointed  to  wait  on  Pilate, 
representing  their  apprehensions.  Tired  of  them,  and  hating  them,  the 
governor  was  in  no  humour  to  argue.  "  Ye  have  a  guard,"  said  he  with 
military  bluntness.  "  Go,  make  it  as  sure  as  ye  can."  This  they  did.  Pass- 
ing a  strong  cord  across  the  stone,  and  securing  its  ends  by  clay,  they 
sealed  it,  after  noting  that  the  soldiers  were  duly  stationed  so  as  to  make 
approach  without  their  knowledge  impossible. 

And  thus  the  Redeemer  was  left,  pale  but  victorious,  to  sleep  through 
the  Sabbath. 


CHAPTER    LXIV. 

THE    llESURRECTIOX   AND    THE    FORTY   DAYS. 

THE  religion  of  the  Letter  had  carried  out  to  the  bitter  end  its  con- 
flict with  the  religion  of  the  Spirit.  Incapable  of  reform,  identi- 
fying its  dead  rites  with  the  essence  of  truth,  it  had  crucified  the  Teacher 
who  had  dared  to  say  that  they  had  served  their  day  and  lost  their  worth. 
Ritualism  had  reached  its  natural  culmination  in  claiming  to  be  the  whole 
of  religion,  and  had  slain  The  Truth  and  The  Life,  when  He  witnessed 
against  it. 

The  benumbed  and  moribund  Past  had  striven  to  perj^etuate  itself,  by 
attempting  to  destroy  the  Kingdom  of  the  Future  in  its  cradle.  How 
utterly  it  failed,  eighteen  centuries  have  told  us. 

It  was  the  old  story ;  the  light  had  come  into  the  darkness,  and  the 
darkness  would  not  have  it ;  accustomed  to  the  one,  it  was  only  dazzled 
and  blinded  by  the  other.  Evil  had  had  its  apparent  triumph.  As  far  as 
the  will  and  hand  of  man  could  effect  it,  He  who,  alike  as  He  was  man 
and  also  as  the  Messiah  of  Israel,  knew  no  spot  or  blemish  of  sin,  had 
been  crushed  as  an  evil-doer.  The  one  holy  Being  of  our  race,  having 
revealed  Himself  as  the  true  Christ,  expected  for  ages,  the  Hope  of  Israel, 
the  highest  and  perfect  expression  of  the  spirit  and  aim  of  the  ancient 
economy  and  even  of  all  other  religions,  so  far  as  they  had  Divine  ele- 
ments in  them— had  been  rejected  and  dishonoured  to  the  uttermost  by 


TnE  EESURRECTION  AXD  THE  FOEIY  DATS.       721 

the  rulers  of  the  Peoijle  of  God,  and  by  the  great  bulk  of  the  nation.  He 
who  had  desired  to  secure  the  salvation  of  Israel,  and  through  it,  of 
humanity,  and  had  shown  how  alone  that  salvation  could  be  attained,  had 
been  branded  by  the  highest  authorities,  both  of  Judaism  and  heathenism, 
as  a  deceiver  of  the  people.  The  blindness  of  the  one  and  the  indifference 
of  tlie  other  had  united  in  atterajating  to  crush  Him,  whose  only  weapons 
in  the  assault  on  evil  had  been  the  highest  wisdom,  the  divincst  love,  and 
unconquerable  meekness.  But  their  triumph  was  only  a  momentary  and 
permitted  echpse  of  the  Light  of  the  "World,  destined  presently  to  reappear 
in  unveiled  and  henceforth  unsetting  glory. 

"  Nothing,"  says  even  so  keen  a  critic  as  Heinrich  Ewald,  "  stands 
more  historically  certain  than  that  Jesus  rose  from  the  dead  and  appeared 
again  to  His  followers,  or  than  that  their  seeing  Him  thus  again  was  the 
beginning  of  a  higher  faith,  and  of  all  their  Christian  work  in  the  world. 
It  is  equally  certain  that  they  thus  saw  Him,  not  as  a  common  man,  or  as 
a  shade  or  ghost  risen  from  the  grave ;  but  as  the  one  Only  Son  of  God — 
already  more  than  man,  alike  in  nature  and  power ;  and  that  all  who  thus 
beheld  Him,  recognised  at  once  and  instinctively  His  unique  Divine 
dio-uitv,  and  fii-mlv  believed  in  it  thenceforth.  The  Twelve  and  others 
had,  indeed,  learned  to  look  on  Him,  even  in  life,  as  the  True  Messianic 
King  and  the  Son  of  God ;  but;  from  the  moment  of  His  reappeaiing, 
they  recognised  more  clearly  and  full}-  the  Divine  side  of  His  nature,  and 
saw  in  Him  the  conqueror  of  death.  Yet  the  two  pictui-es  of  Him  thus 
fixed  in  theii"  minds  were  in  theii*  essence  identical.  That  former  familiar 
apiiearance  of  the  earthly  Christ,  and  this  higher  vision,  with  its  depth  of 
emotion  and  ecstatic  joy,  were  so  inter-related  that,  even  in  the  first  days 
or  weeks  after  His  death,  they  could  never  have  seen  in  Him  the 
Heavenly  Messiah,  if  they  had  not  first  known  Him  so  well  as  the 
earthly." 

Mary  of  Magdala,  and  the  wife  of  Clopas,  herself  another  Mary — for 
Mary,  from  the  Hebrew  Miriam,  was  a  favoiuite  name  ever  since  the  days 
of  the  sister  of  Moses — had  sat  on  the  ground  at  the  door  of  the  garden- 
tomb  in  which  the  Beloved  One  lay,  till  late  on  the  evening  of  Friday. 
The  trumpet  announcing  the  beginning  of  the  great  Passover  Sabbath  had 
only  startled  them  for  a  moment,  and  exhausted  nature  had,  perhaps,  first 
compelled  them  to  leave. 

The  next  day  rose  calm  and  bright  on  the  budding  and  blossoming 
landscape,  for  it  was  Xisau,  the  month  of  flowering,  and  nature  was  in  the 
secret  to  be  revealed  on  the  morrow,  and  might  well,  for  joy,  put  on  her 
fairest.  The  courts  of  the  Temple  were  filled  from  morning  till  evening 
with  zealous  worshippers ;  the  barefooted,  white-robed,  and  turbaned 
priests  were  busy  offering  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  for  the  sins  of 
Israel,  unconscious  that  the  blood  of  a  greater  sacrifice  had  been  shed,  of 
which  those  offered  by  them  were  only  the  rude,  and  well-nigh  revolting 
symbol.  Yet  it  must  have  been  with  strange  feelings  they  went  through 
the  services  of  the  day.  The  trumpets  and  voices  of  the  Levites  were 
loud  and  clear  as  ever  ;  the  high  priest,  fresh  from  Golgotha,  as  gorgeous 
ID  his  splendid  robes  ;  the  crowd  of  priests  as  engrossed  with  official  toil ; 

3  A 


722  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

the  throngs  filling  the  courts  below,  not  less  numerous  or  devout.  But  an 
omen,  portentous  beyond  all  their  history  recorded,  had  been  seen  by 
Levite  and  priest  alike— for  was  not  the  Holy  of  Holies,  hitherto  veiled  in 
awful  darkness,  and  entered  only  once  in  the  year,  for  a  few  moments,  by 
the  high  priest,  laid  visibly  open  before  every  one  in  the  court  of  the 
prieststor  even  in  the  vast  Temple  area?  For  the  Holy  of  HoUes  stood 
high  above  the  rest  of  the  sanctuary.  The  huge,  heavy  veil  of  Baby- 
lonian tapestry  of  fine  flax,  gorgeous  in  its  hyacinth  and  scarlet  and 
purple,  had  been  mysteriously  rent  from  top  to  bottom,  at  the  moment 
when  the  "enemy  of  the  Temple"  expired  on  Calvary,  and  the  awful 
presence-chamber  of  Jehovah  had  been  exposed  to  every  eye,  like  ground 

no  longer  sacred. 

The  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  even  the  Eleven,  had  been  overwhelmed  by 
the  events  of  the  day.  Having  no  clear  idea  of  their  Master's  meaning, 
and  thinking  little  on  words  painful  at  best,  His  repeated  warnings,  that 
He  must  be°put  to  death,  but  would  rise  again  from  the  dead  on  the  third 
day,  had  made  no  lasting  impression  on  their  minds.  The  catastrophe 
had  been  so  sudden  and  complete,  that,  for  the  time,  they  were  confounded 
and  paralyzed. 

It  is  the  glory  of  woman  that  she  refuses  to  forsake  those  she  loves, 
even  when  things  are  darkest.  The  two  Marys  had  left  the  grave  only 
when  the  deep  night  compelled  them,  but  even  then  they  still  had  its 
dear  One  in  their  hearts.  The  Sabbath,  which  had  begun  just  as  the 
stone  was  rolled  to  the  entrance,  kept  them  from  doing  anything  for  Him 
for  twenty-four  hours,  but  it  was  no  sooner  over,  on  Saturday  at  sunset, 
than  with  Salome,  and  Joanna,  and  some  other  women,  they  arranged  to 
take  additional  spices  at  the  earliest  dawn  to  complete  the  embalming  of 
the  body,  begun  by  Nicoderaus,  but  left  unfinished  through  the  approach 
of  the  Sal^bath.  Mary,  the  mother  of  Jesus,  was  too  sorely  stricken  in 
heart  to  join  them. 

Meanwhile,  the  Eoman  sentries  were  pacing  to  and  fro  on  their  beat, 
before  the  sepulchre,  their  fire  lighted,  for  the  spring  night  was  chilly, 
and  besides,  the  light  revealed  any  one  approaching.  The  true-hearted 
women  had  resolved  to  reach  the  grave  by  sunrise,  which  would  take 
place  about  a  quarter  before  six  in  the  morning,  and  slept  outside  the  city, 
gates,  which  did  not  open  till  daybreak  at  the  earliest.  The  grey  dawn 
had  hardly  shown  itself,  before  they  were  afoot  on  their  errand,  to  per- 
form the  last  offices  of  love.  As  they  went,  however,  a  difficulty  rose  of 
which  they  had  not  thought  before.  Who  would  roll  back  the  stone  for 
them,  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre?  They  had  heard  nothing,  ap- 
parently, of  its  having  been  sealed,  or  of  the  guard  being  mounted  m  the 
garden,  else  they  might  have  been  altogether  discouraged.  But  we  may 
be  sure  they  had  told  some  of  the  Eleven  where  the  grave  lay,  and  might 
hope  that  one,  at  least,  would  be  there  to  help  them. 

A  greater  than  an  Apostle  had  already,  however,  been  at  the  tomb. 
For  St.  Matthew  tells  us,  "an  angel  of  the  Lord  had  descended  from 
heaven,  his  countenance  shining  like  lightning,  and  his  raiment  white  as 
Buow,  and,"  striking  terror  even  into  the  Eoman  guard,  "  had  rolled  back 


THE  EESUEEECTION  AND  THE  FOETY  DAYS.       723 

tlie  stone  from  the  door."     As  it  opened,  the  Crucified  One   had  come 
forth,  unseen  by  the  dazzled  soldiers,  and  had  presently  vanished. 

They  had  scarcely  left  the  si3ot,  when  the  ■women  arrived.  The  earth 
was  trembling  strangely,  but  they  had  kept  on  their  way.  How  great 
must  have  been  their  astonishment,  however,  when  they  found  the  stone 
rolled  back,  and  the  grave  ojsen.  There  was  no  longer  a  guard,  for  the 
soldiers  had  fled  in  terror  at  the  angelic  vision.  Mary  of  Magdala  entered 
the  garden  first,  and  found  things  thus,  and  having  run  back  to  the  others 
hastened  into  the  city  to  tell  Peter  and  John.  Determined  to  solve  the 
mystery,  if  possible,  her  companions  came  together  to  the  sepulchre,  and, 
bending  down,  entered  its  inner  chamber.  But  it  was  only  to  be  appalled 
by  the  sight  of  an  angel  in  white,  sitting  in  it,  as  if  waiting  to  bear  the 
glad  news  to  them  of  what  had  taken  place.  Presently,  a  second  radiant 
form  stood  before  them,  as  they  bowed  down  their  faces  to  the  earth  in 
terror.  But  words  now  fell  on  their  ears  which  brought  back  joy  to  their 
hearts.  "  Fear  not,  for  I  know  that  ye  seek  Jesus  of  Nazareth  who  was 
crucified.  Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead?  He  is  not  here,  for 
He  is  risen.  Behold  the  place  where  they  laid  Him.  But  go  c^uicklj^,  tell 
His  disciples,  and  Peter,  that  He  is  risen  from  the  dead.  Eemember  the 
words  that  He  said  to  you  while  He  was  yet  in  Galilee— that  the  Son  of  Man 
must  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  crucifi.ed,  and  the 
third  day  rise  again.  And  tell  them  '  He  goeth  before  you  into  Galilee,' 
there  you  will  see  Him,  as  He  said  unto  you.     Lo,  I  have  told  you." 

Mary  of  Magdala  had  hurried  back  to  Jerusalem  with  eager  steps,  to 
tell  the  strange  fact  of  the  grave  being  empty  to  Peter  and  John,  who  seem 
to  have  lived  together  at  this  time.  The  Virgin  Mother,  now  John's 
honoured  guest,  hearing  the  amazing  news,  joined  the  other  Mary  in 
urging  the  two  Apostles  to  go  immediately  to  the  tomb,  though  their  own 
faithful  hearts  at  once  instinctively  impelled  both  forthwith  to  do  so. 
Peter  and  John,  therefore,  were  instantly  on  the  way  to  the  garden  ;  their 
eager  haste  hurrying  them  to  the  utmost  sjaeed.  John,  however,  younger 
than  Peter,  outran  him,  yet  contented  himself,  on  reaching  the  tomb,  with 
stooping  down  and  gazing  into  its  empty  space.  The  body  assuredly  was 
gone,  but  there  was  no  trace  of  violence,  for  the  linen  bandages  lay 
carefully  unrolled,  in  the  empty  niche  where  the  Saviour  had  been  placed. 
Natural  reverence  and  the  awful  mystery  before  him  kept  him  from 
actually  entering ;  but  no  such  hesitation  checked  the  impulsive  Peter. 
Passing  under  the  low  doorway,  he  went  in,  undismayed.  The  sepulchre 
was,  indeed,  empty,  as  John  and  the  women  had  found ;  only  the  grave- 
linen  was  left — the  bands  for  the  body  and  limbs  laid  by  themselves,  and 
the  cloth  that  had  covei'ed  the  face  of  the  Dead,  not  Ij'ing  with  them,  but 
folded  up  in  a  place  by  itself.  Following  his  friend,  John  now  entered, 
and  saw  that  it  was  so.  The  great  truth,  as  he  himself  tells  us  in  long 
after  years,  now  for  the  first  time  flashed  on  his  mind,  that  Jesus  had 
risen.  Neither  he  nor  the  other  Apostles  had,  as  yet,  realized  that  it  had 
been  foretold  in  the  Scriptures  that  He  would  do  so ;  for  this  would  have 
explained  the  whole  at  once,  and  would  have  thrown  light  on  the  hitherto 
mj'sterious  words  of  Jesus  Himself  respecting  His  resurrection. 


724  THE    LIFE    OF   CimiST. 

Having  seen  for  themselves  the  empty  tomb,  they  thought,  like  men, 
only  of  going  back,  to  discuss  with  each  other  and  with  their  brethren 
what  it  could  mean.  But  the  women  would  not  leave  the  spot.  Wander- 
ing everywhere,  they  only  cared  to  find  Him  whom  they  loved,  if  they 
conld  ;  for  they  fancied  that  the  body  had  been  removed  to  some  other 
place.  Mary  of  Magdala  had  meanwhile  returned,  and  stood  weeping  at 
tlie  door  of  the  tomb ;  her  spirit,  like  that  of  her  companions,  overborne 
with  longing  anxiety  to  find  Him,  if  possible,  and  refusing  to  believe  that 
she  could  not.  The  two  Ai)Ostles  had  seen  no  angels,  bnt  the  weeping 
woman  was  more  highly  favoured.  Gazing  into  the  sepulchre,  the  empty 
space  where  Jesus  had  lain  was  no  longer  untenanted,  but,  instead  of  the 
Eedeemer,  she  saw  two  angels,  in  bright  robes,  one  where  the  head  and  the 
other  where  the  feet  had  rested.  They  were  there  to  comfort  the  broken 
heart,  as,  indeed,  they  had,  doubtless,  been  before,  though  for  the  time 
they  remained  unseen. 

"Woman,"  said  one,  in  a  human  voice  that  disarmed  fear,  "  why  weepest 
thou  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  Mary,  in  broken  accents,  "  they  have  taken  away  my 
Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  Him." 

As  she  said  this,  she  turned  and  drew  back  into  the  open  garden,  hardly 
knowing  what  she  did.  A  man  now  stood  before  her,  with  the  simple 
dress  of  the  humbler  classes,  and  being  in  a  garden,  she  naturally  tliQUght 
him  the  person  in  charge  of  it.  "  Woman,"  said  he  strangely  enough,  as  it 
must  have  seemed  to  Mary,  in  the  same  words  as  the  angels  had  used, 
"  why  weepest  thou  ?  whom  seekest  thou  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  Mary,  taking  it 
for  granted,  as  great  sorrow  does,  that  the  cause  of  her  grief  must  be 
known  to  all,  "  if  thou  hast  carried  him  from  this  tomb,  pray  tell  me  where 
thou  hast  laid  Him,  and  I  will  take  Him  away."  She  was  a  woman  of 
means,  and  would  see  that  He  had  a  final  and  suitable  resting-place. 

No  reply  was  given,  except  the  repetition  of  her  own  name — "  Mary.' 
But  the  voice  revealed  the  speaker.  It  was  that  of  Jesus.  She  had  not 
recognised  the  known,  but  now  strangely  etherealized,  features, — the  one 
"  spiritual  body  "  ever  seen  by  human  eyes — the  corruptible  changed  into 
incorruption,  the  mortal  into  immortality.  But  the  sound  of  that  voice, 
so  tenderly  remembered,  brought  with  it  full  recognition  of  the  face  and 
form. 

"  Eabboni,"  said  she,  in  the  country  tongue  they  both  loved  so  well, 
"  My  Teacher ! "  and  was  about  to  fall  on  His  neck  in  uncontrollable 
emotion. 

"  Touch  me  not,"  said  He,  drawing  back,  "  for  I  have  not  yet  ascended 
to  the  Father ;  but  go  to  my  brethren,  and  say  to  them,  I  ascend  to  my 
Father  and  your  Father,  and  to  my  God  and  your  God." 

Meanwhile,  the  other  women  had  come  near,  and  hearino;  and  seeing 
what  had  passed,  kneeled  in  lowly  worship.  As  they  advanced,  Jesus 
greeted  them  with  the  salutation  they  had  often  heard  from  His  lips,  "  All 
hail !  "  and  the  words,  and  the  sight  of  Mary  adoring  Him,  left  them  no 
question  of  its  being  their  Lord.  He  had  withheld  Mary  from  any  ap- 
proach to  the  tender  freedom  of  former  days,  but  He  now  stood  still  while 


THE    ELSURTvECTION    AND    THE    FORTY   DAYS.  725 

the  lowly  band,  Mary  among  them,  held  Him  by  the  feet,  and  paid  Him 
lowliest  reverence.  Then,  as  they  kneeled,  came  the  words,  grateful  to 
their  hearts,  "  Be  not  afraid !  Go,  tell  my  brethren  to  go  into  Galilee,  and 
they  will  see  me  there." 

So  saying,  He  was  gone. 

Losing  no  time,  Mary  oE  Magdala  and  the  others  hnrried  back  to  Jern- 
salem,  and  found  that,  in  the  still  early  morning  the  news  had  spread  to 
all  the  Eleven,  that  their  Master  was  alive  and  had  been  seen  both  Ijy  her 
and  by  them.  But  it  seemed  too  wonderful  for  simple  minds  to  realize  at 
once,  and  sounded  only  like  an  idle  tale  which  they  could  not  believe.  It 
sufficed,  however,  to  rally  them,  for  the  first  time  since  Gethsemane ;  for 
that  very  night  they  once  more  assembled  as  of  old. 

No  detailed  narrative  of  the  successive  appearances  of  Jesus  to  His 
disciples,  after  His  resurrection,  has  been  left  us,  each  narrative  giving 
only  special  cases,  which  had  particularly  impressed  the  mind  of  the 
writer.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  He  showed  Himself  on  many  occasions 
of  which  no  record  is  preserved ;  for  St.  John  expressly  tells  us,  in  his 
summary  of  the  Forty  Days,  that  besides  the  sign  in  the  case  of  Thomas, 
Jesus  did  many  others  before  His  disciples,  which  are  not  written  in  the 
Gospel  bearing  the  Apostle's  name,  and  He  had  promised  that  He  would 
manifest  Himself  again,  soon  after  His  death,  to  those  who  continued 
faithful  to  Him.  Had  we  a  full  narrative  of  the  interval  between  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Ascension,  it  would  doubtless  illustrate  more  vividly 
than  existing  records  permit,  the  fulness  and  variety  of  demonstration 
which  alone  accoimts  for  the  firra  and  triumphant  proclamation  of  Christ's 
victory  over  death,  by  the  Apostles  and  early  Church. 

One  characteristic  is  common  to  all  the  appearances  recounted :  they 
never  pass  outside  the  purely  spiritual  bounds  we  instinctively  associate 
with  the  mysterious  existence  on  which  Jesus  had  entered.  Even  when 
most  closely  touching  the  material  and  earthly.  He  is  always  seen  speaking 
and  acting  only  as  a  spirit,  coming  suddenly,  revealing  Himself  in  an 
imperceptibly  increasing  completeness,  which  culminates  at  last  in  some 
unmistakable  sign,  and  presently  vanishing  as  siiddenly  as  He  appeared. 
He  no  longer  acts  or  suffers  as  before  His  death,  and  even  when  conde- 
scending most  to  the  seen  and  material,  only  does  so  to  prove  Himself, 
beyond  question,  tlie  same  Jesus  as  formerly,  who  in  common  human  life 
shared  all  the  experiences  and  wants  of  His  followers.  To  some  He  made 
Himself  known,  as  to  Mary  and  the  women,  by  a  single  word  or  by  brief 
sentences,  the  voice  carrying  instant  conviction  with  it ;  to  others,  in  a 
lengthened  communion,  as  with  the  disciples  going  to  Bmmaus,  kindling 
their  soul  by  the  higher  sense  He  gave  to  the  Scriptures,  and  by  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  symbolic  "  breaking  of  bread,"  which,  on  the  last  night.  He 
had  enjoined  on  the  Eleven  ;  to  others  again,  as  to  Thomas,  by  an  outward 
material  proof  from  the  wounds  on  His  person  ;  and,  to  still  others,  by 
joining  them  in  their  simj^le  repast,  as  with  the  disciples  on  the  shore  of 
the  Lake  of  Galilee. 

It  would  seem,  from  a  notice  by  St.  Paul,  that  the  first  appearance,  after 
that  granted  to  the  women,  was  vouchsafed  to  Peter,  perhaps  while  still  in 


726  THE   LIFE    OF    CUEIST. 

the  garden.  The  completeness  of  the  Apostle's  repentance  had  secured  as 
complete  a  forgiveness,  and  Jesus  could  not  forget  that  Peter's  home  at 
Capernaum  had  been  Ilis,  or  how  true-hearted  he  had  been  from  the  very 
days  of  the  Baptism  on  the  Jordan,  though  he  had  failed  for  a  moment 
when  off  his  guard.  The  look  of  reproach,  mingled  with  love  and  pitj^ 
had  melted  Peter's  heart  while  the  denials  were  yet  on  his  lips,  and  now, 
the  look  and  tender  words  of  the  risen  Christ  bound  him  to  Him  for  ever. 
He  had  been  the  foremost  in  zeal  for  the  meek  and  lowlj^  Master  while  still 
rejected  and  despised ;  but  when  that  Master  stood  before  him,  the  con- 
queror of  death  and  the  glorified  Son  of  God,  his  zeal  rose  to  a  passionate 
devotion  that,  henceforth,  knew  no  abatement. 

The  news  of  the  Resurrection  spread  fast  among  the  disciples  in  Jeru- 
salem ;  still  it  required  time  to  reach  all,  and  even  when  announced,  the 
fact  was  too  great  to  be  realized  at  once,  and  too  contrary  to  previous  ex- 
pectations to  be  other  than  slowly  understood.  Deep  dejection  reigned 
throughout  the  little  Christian  company.  In  spite  of  all  their  Master's 
warnings.  His  death  had  come  on  them  by  surprise,  and,  as  it  seemed,  had 
destroyed  everything.  Cut  off  suddenly  from  all  the  hopes  they  had 
cherished  of  an  earthly  kingdom,  notwithstanding  the  constant  lessons  of 
Christ's  life  and  words,  and  deeply  distressed  by  the  loss  of  their  Teacher 
and  Head,  they  appeared  to  be  left  helpless  and  paralyzed.  The  horrors 
of  the  past  few  days  engrossed  their  thoughts  and  conversation.  They 
believed  Him  now  in  Paradise,  but  no  one  dreamed  of  a  resurrection  so 
soon.  John  had,  indeed,  risen  in  some  measure  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
truth,  and  Peter  had  even  seen  Him ;  but  the  bulk  of  the  disciples  had 
well-nigh  lost  all  hope.  The  report  of  tlie  empty  grave,  and  of  the  vision 
of  angels  and  of  their  announcement  that  He  was  alive,  was  insufficient 
to  break  their  gloom,  and  prolonged  their  perplexity  without  relieving  it. 

Midday  had  passed,  and  only  floating  rumours  were  as  yet  abroad.  The 
disciples  began  to  think  of  finally  separating,  and  returning  to  their  homes; 
for  without  their  Master,  they  were  without  a  leader.  Two  of  them  de- 
termined to  go  back  to  Emmaus,  a  village  between  seven  and  eight  miles 
north-west  of  Jerusalem,  on  the  high  slope  of  the  hills.  The  way  to  it 
was  over  hills  and  through  valleys,  more  and  more  barren  as  Jerusalem 
was  left  behind,  but  Emmaus  itself  looked  down  into  a  hollow  through 
which  a  rivulet  spread  greenness  and  beauty.  Vines  and  olive-trees, 
planted  in  terraces  up  the  hill-side,  and  the  white  and  red  flowers  of  the 
almond-tree,  now  bursting  into  blossom  in  the  valley,  made  the  end  of  the 
journey  a  pleasant  contrast  to  its  beginning. 

The  two  travellers  were  not  from  among  the  Apostles,  and  it  is  not  even 
known  whether  they  had  been  in  the  nuinber  of  the  Seventy.  The  name 
of  the  one  is  told  us,  Cleopas,  a  different  word  from  Clopas,  the  name  of 
the  husband  of  one  of  the  Marys  who  waited  on  Christ,  and  thus,  no  hint 
is  furnished  by  it.  The  other  has  been  variously  fancied  as  Nathanael, 
Peter,  or,  even  Luke  himself,  but  it  is  only  conjecture.  They  were  passing 
on  their  way,  their  conversation  turning  naturally  on  that  of  which  their 
hearts  were  full,  and  of  which  they  had  heard  and  spoken  so  much  that 
day.     AVas  Jesus  the  Messiah  or  not.^     K  so,  how  had  things  ended  so 


THE    EESUIIRECTION   AND    THE    FORTY   DAYS.  727 

gloomily  ?  His  life,  His  words,  His  miracles,  seemed  to  sliow  that  He  was 
the  Messiah;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  how  could  the  Messiah  have  been 
crucified  ? 

Meanwhile,  a  stranger,  going  their  way,  oyertook  them,  and,  very  pos- 
sibly to  their  disappointment,  joined  them.  He  had  heard  how  eagerly 
they  were  disputing  and  reasoning,  so  that  it  seemed  only  natural  when 
He  asked  them  what  subject  had  so  engrossed  them.  Half  impatient  that 
He  should  seem  unacquainted  with  a  matter  so  supreme  to  themselves, 
Cleopas  answered,  "  Tliat  he  could  not  have  thought  any  one  who  had  been 
to  the  feast  in  Jerusalem,  would  ask  the  subject  of  their  conversation, 
when  such  great  things,  still  in  every  one's  mouth,  had  happened  in  these 
last  few  days." 

"  What  things  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  AVhat  but  respecting  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  "  replied  Cleopas.  "  He  was 
a  prophet  of  God,  a  mighty  worker  of  miracles,  and  a  grout  teacher.  All 
the  people  must  own  that  He  was  that.  Do  you  not  know  about  Him  ? 
How  our  priests  and  Rabbis  seized  Him,  and  condemned  Him  to  death, 
and  forced  Pilate  to  crucify  Him  ?  Yet  we  believed,  as  it  seemed  on  the 
best  grounds,  that  He  was  the  Messiah,  who  should  have  delivered  Israel. 
But  it  is  now  the  third  day  since  all  this  has  happened.  Some  of  the 
women  belonging  to  our  company,  however,  have  created  no  little  per- 
plexity amongst  us.  They  had  gone  early  in  the  morning  to  the  tomb, 
but  found  it  empty,  and  came  back,  saying  that  angels  had  appeared  to 
them,  who  told  them  that  He  was  alive  again.  On  this  some  of  our  num- 
ber went  to  the  sepulchre,  and  found  the  facts  as  the  women  represented, 
but  they  did  not  see  Jesus  Himself." 

It  was  clear  that  the  spark  of  hope  kindled  by  the  first  report  had  been 
already  extinguished. 

The  stranger  had  listened  attentively,  and  now,  to  their  surprise,  began  . 
to  chide  them  for  their  doubt,  and  entered  into  the  matter  that  so  engrossed   j 
them,  with  the  earnestness  of  one  who  felt  as  supremely  interested  in  their    ■ 
Master's  cause  as  they  were  themselves,  and  with  an  intelligence  that 
arrested  their  closest  attention. 

"  What  is  there  in  all  this  that  makes  you  so  dejected  and  despairing?  " 
asked  He.  "  0  ye  dull  of  understanding,  and  sluggish  of  heart !  Why 
not  grasp  more  clearly,  and  believe  more  readily,  what  is  the  burden  of  all 
the  prophets  ?  Had  you  been  as  intelligent,  and  as  ready  in  your  hearts 
as  you  should  have  been,  to  understand  and  accept  the  witness  of  Scrip- 
ture, you  would  have  seen  that  it  had  been  prophesied,  from  the  first,  that 
the  Messiah  was  to  suffer  and  die,  as  Jesus  has  done.  Let  us  examine 
whether  the  prophets  do  not  show  that  the  Christ — the  Messiah — mvast 
needs  have  been  thus  lowly,  entering  into  His  glory  only  after  suffering 
death,  though  you  have  foolishly  imagined  His  Kingdom  was  to  come  by 
force  and  miracle." 

The  stranger  was  evidently  at  least  a  learned  Rabbi;  and  had  won  their 
anxious,  respectful  attention  already,  by  the  novelty  and  force  of  his  appeal. 
But  now,  as  he  journeyed  on  at  their  side,  their  wonder  and  delight  in- 
creased, for  he  quoted  passage  after  passage,  from  the  beginning  to  the 


728  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

end  of  the  Scriptures,  and  showed  them  how  the  whole  si)irit  and  contents 
of  the  Holy  Books  pointed  to  snch  a  Messiah  as  he  had  indicated— a 
Messiah  founding  a  spiritual,  not  a  mere  earthly  kingdom,  by  love  and 
self-sacrifice,  not  by  force.  They  had  never  heard  such  discourse.  He 
threw  light  on  the  deep  things  of  Scripture,  which  made  it  a  new  book  to 
them.  They  had  been  familiar  with  it  from  childhood,  but  now,  for  the 
first  time,  found  that  their  Master,  alike  in  His  life  and  death,  shone  out 
from  every  page. 

Such  discourse  shortened  the  road,  and  found  them  still  eagerly  listen- 
ing as  they  approached  Emmaus,  the  end  of  the  journey.  Climbing  the 
hill  path  together,  through  the  terraces  of  vines  and  olives,  and  passing 
under  the  village  gate,  they  were  presently  at  the  house  where  the  disciples 
Averc  to  stay.  And,  now,  the  stranger  bade  them  adieu.  What  they  had 
heard  from  him,  however,  had  interested  them  so  much,  that  they  longed 
to  hear  more.  They  begged  him,  therefore,  to  lodge  wnth  them  for  the 
night,  and  this,  the  rather,  as  the  day  was  far  spent.  Accepting  the  invi- 
tation, all  thi'ee  went  into  the  house. 

It  must  have  been  no  small  Avonder  to  the  Two,  who  their  mysterious 
companion  could  be.  Nothing  in  His  dress  or  speech  gave  them  a  clue, 
and  they  did  not  know  His  features.  But  a  feeling  of  reverence  kept  them 
from  asking. 

Simple  refreshments  were  presently  set  before  them — among  the  rest, 
bread  and  wine.  The  stranger,  as  was  his  due,  had  the  place  of  honour  at 
table,  aud  it  fell  to  him  to  hand  what  was  before  them,  to  the  others. 
Only  the  three  were  together. 

Soon  after,  the  UnknoAvn,  taking  the  bread,  offered  the  usual  benedic- 
tion, just  as  Jesus  had  done ;  broke  the  bread,  just  as  Jesus  had  broken 
it;  handed  it  to  them,  just  as  Jesus  had  handed  it.  Bearing,  voice,  and 
manner  were  His.  And  now,  as  they  look  at  Him  more  closely,  the  veil 
He  had  assumed  passes  away,  and  the  very  Face  and  Form  also  were  His. 

It  was  He !  Meanwhile,  as  they  gazed  in  awful  Avonder  and  reverence, 
He  vanished. 

No  instance  given  illustrates  more  strikingly  the  adaptation  of  the 
Eisen  Saviour's  self-disclosures  to  the  requirements  of  His  disciples. 
Their  minds  w^ere  first  enlightened  and  their  hearts  Avarmed,  till  there 
was  no  longer  a  danger  of  affecting  their  senses  only,  but  a  security  of 
intelligent  conviction,  resting  on  impressions  left  by  the  discourse  they 
had  heard.  They  Avere  gently  led  on  till  fully  prepared,  and  then  the 
APPEAEANCE  was  granted  in  a  AA'ay  so  inexpressibly  touching  and  tender, 
that  it  no  less  fired  their  loA^e  than  cstal^lished  their  faith. 

Left  to  themselves,  the  Tavo  could  speak  only  of  Avhat  they  had  heard 
and  seen — of  Iioav  their  hearts  had  glowed  in  their  bosoms  as  He  talked 
with  them  along  the  road,  and  opened  to  them  the  Scriptures.  Their 
ecstatic  joy  at  having  seen  Him,  Avhom  they  had  known  as  the  earthly 
Messiah,  now  unveiled  to  them  as  the  Messiah  risen  and  glorified,  the 
conqueror  of  death,  can  only  be  faintly  imagined.  Neither  life  nor  death 
could  ever  efface  the  memory  of  it  from  their  inmost  hearts.  But  their 
brethren  must  know  the  great  truth.     Hastening  back  to  Jerusalem  Avith 


THE    "RESUREECTION   AND    THE    FORTY   DATS.  729 

quickened  steps,  to  reach  it  before  the  shutting  of  the  gates,  they  found 
the  Eleven  and  a  number  of  the  disciples  gathered  together — the  amazing 
rumours  of  the  day  the  one  engrossing  theme  of  discussion.  Peter,  it 
seemed,  had  told  them  that  Jesus  had  appeared  to  him,  and  now  the  Two 
added  their  wondrous  narrative.  It  was  a  thing  so  transcendent,  however, 
and  so  unheard  of,  that  any  one  should  rise  fi*om  the  dead,  that  the  com- 
pany still  fancied  the  women,  and  Peter,  and  the  Two,  under  some  strange 
delusion.     They  could  not  credit  their  story  as  a  matter  of  fact. 

It  was  still  Sunday,  and  the  assembled  Eleven,  with  the  others,  had 
gathered  at  the  table  couches,  to  eat  a  simple  evening  meal  together, 
before  parting  for  the  night.  The  doors  were  fast  closed,  for  fear  of  any 
emissary  of  the  high  priest  and  Eabbis  discovering  them,  as  they  were 
discussing  the  strange  reports  they  had  heard,  and  justifying  their 
incredulity.  Suddenly,  through  the  closed  doors,  a  Form  ajipeared  in 
their  midst,  which  they  at  once  recognised  as  that  of  Jesus.  Presently, 
the  salutation  they  had  heard  so  often,  sounded  from  His  lips— the  common 
Jewish  greeting,  "  Shalom  Lacliem  " — *•  Peace  to  you !  " 

The  sight  terrified  and  alarmed  them.  They  could  not  realize  that  it 
was  really  Jesus  Himself,  but  fancied  it  was  His  spirit. 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  fear,"  said  He,  '•  and  why  do  you  not,  at  once, 
without  any  such  doubts  and  questionings  in  your  minds,  recognise  me  as 
Him  whom  I  really  am  ?  "  His  hands  were,  of  course,  exposed  beneatli 
the  sleeves  of  His  abba,  and  His  feet  could  be  seen  through  His  sandal- 
straps.  Holding  up  the  former,  and  showing  the  marks  of  the  great  iron 
nails  of  the  cross  in  the  palms,  and  pressing  back  His  abba,  and  disclosing 
the  wounds  on  His  feet,  He  went  on  :  "  Look  at  my  hands  and  my  feet. 
see  the  wounds  of  the  nails,  and  be  satisfied  that  it  is  I,  Jesus,  myself,  who 
speak.  And,  that  you  may  know  that  it  is  not  my  spirit  you  see,  but  the 
same  Master  you  knew  of  old,  come  near  and  touch  me,  for  a  spirit  has 
not  flesh  and  bones  as  you  see  me  have." 

Evidence  so  convincing  could  leave  no  doubt,  except  from  very  joy  at 
its  completeness ;  for  the  return  of  their  Lord,  thus  triumphant  over  the 
grave,  was  so  stupendous  a  miracle  that  while  they  could  not  question  it, 
their  gladness  would  scarcely  let  them  think  it  real.  But  still  further 
proof  was  to  be  given.  Knowing  how  easily  the  idea  might  spread  that 
His  appearances  were  merely  those  of  a  disembodied  spirit,  He  asked 
them  to  let  Him  share  their  meal.  They  had  broiled  fish,  and  having  set 
some  before  Him  with  wondering  awe,  He  ate  it  in  their  sight.  All  doubt 
now  fled ;  it  was,  indeed,  their  Risen  Lord. 

"Xow  that  you  are  convinced  that  it  is  really  I,"  continued  Jesus,  "let 
me  remind  you  that  the  facts  you  have  now  verified — that  I  should  die 
and  rise  again  from  the  dead — are  the  fulfilment  of  what  I  said  to  you 
while  I  was  yet  with  you,  that  all  that  was  written  respecting  me  in  the 
Scriptures,  must  be  fulfilled  in  this  way." 

As  the  "  Light  of  the  AVorld,"  He  then  proceeded  to  recall  to  their 
minds  and  explain  more  fullj"  the  prophecies  respecting  Himself  in  tiie 
Books  of  !Moscs,  the  Prophets,  and  tlie  Psalms — the  three  divisions  under 
which  all  the   Holy  Books  were  classed  l)y  the  Jews;  and  showed  their 


730  THE   LIFE   OF   CHRIST. 

wonderful  vividness  as  inspired  anticipations  of  what  had  really  happened 
in  His  own  person. 

"  You  see  thus,"  added  He,  after  giving  this  summary  of  the  testimony 
of  Scripture,  "that  it  was  necessarj^  in  the  Divine  counsels,  that  instead 
of  founding  an  earthly  kingdom,  as  you  expected,  the  Messiah  should 
suffer  as  I  have  done,  and  that  He  should  rise  from  the  dead  the  third 
day,  as  ye  see  has  been  the  case  with  me.  The  purposes  of  God  now  fur- 
ther require  that  the  need  of  repentance,  ai^d  the  promise  of  the  remission 
of  sins  to  be  obtained  through  my  death  and  resurrection,  should  be 
preached,  henceforth,  as  the  great  end  of  all  I  have  suffered,  and  the 
Salvation  I  was  sent  as  the  Messiah  to  secure,  not  for  Israel  only,  but  for 
all  mankind.  These  truths  you  are  to  proclaim  to  all  nations,  but  you  are 
to  begin  at  Jerusalem,  that  Israel  may  have  still  another  opportunity  of 
accej^ting  me,  and  of  being  saved  through  my  name,  now  I  am  risen  and 
glorified,  though  they  rejected  me  in  my  humiliation.  And  you,  my 
disciples,  are  the  witnesses  through  whom  God  will  spread  abroad  this 
message  of  mercy  to  Jews  and  heathen,  and  proclaim  His  new  Heavenly 
Kingdom  founded  by  me." 

The  Avondering  disciples  now  saw  that  He  was  about  to  leave  them  once 
more.     As  He  prepared  to  do  so,  however,  He  added: — 

"Peace  be  with  you!  As  my  Father  sent  mc,  so  I  send  you.  Go  ye 
into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature.  Ho  who 
believes  and  is  ba2:)tized  will  be  saved,  but  he  who  does  not  believe  will  be 
condemned.  And  these  miraculous  signs  will  be  granted  those  who 
believe,  for  a  confirmation  of  their  faith,  and  that  they  may  win  others. 
They  will  cast  out  devils  in  my  name ;  they  will  speak  with  tongues  new 
to  them ;  they  will  take  up  serpents  without  harm  to  themselves  ;  if  they 
drink  any  deadly  thing  it  will  not  hurt  them ;  and  they  will  lay  hands  on 
the  sick,  and  they  will  recover. 

"  To  fit  you  for  your  great  work  I  shall  presently  send  you  the  Helper 
promised  by  my  Father,  but  stay  in  the  city  till  you  are  clothed  with  this 
power  from  on  high." 

There  were  only  ten  of  the  Eleven  present,  for  Thomas  was  absent,  but 
these  He  now  gathered  before  Him.  As  an  earnest  of  the  fuller  endow- 
ment, hereafter,  He  was  about  to  impart  to  them  a  special  consecration  by 
the  Holy  Spirit,  to  their  office  as  Apostles.  He  had,  Himself,  compared 
the  influence  and  entrance  of  the  Spirit  to  the  breathing  of  the  wind,  and 
now,  prefacing  His  intended  words  by  the  symbolical  act  of  breathing  on 
the  Ten,  He  said : 

"  Eeceive  ye  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  government  of  the  Church  is  com- 
mitted to  your  charge.  As  a  special  gift  for  your  work  as  founders  of  my 
Kingdom,  Divine  insight  is  granted  you  to  '  discern  the  spirits  '  of  men, 
that  so  you  may  know  their  true  state  before  God.  Through  you,  there- 
fore, henceforth,  as  through  me  till  now,  He  will  announce  the  forgiveness 
of  sins,  and  it  will  be  granted  by  God  to  those  to  whom  you  declare  it. 
Through  you,  moreover.  He  will  make  known  to  others  that  their  sins  are 
not  forgiven,  and  to  him  to  whom  you  are  constrained  to  sjicak  thus,  to 
him  his  sins  will  not  be  forgiven  by  God  till  you  announce  their  being  so." 


THE  EESURRECTION  AND  THE  FORTY  DAYS.       731 

Having  said  tliis,  He  vanished  from  their  sight. 

It  is  impossible  to  realize  the  emotions  of  the  little  band  of  Apostles 
and  disciples  at  these  appearances.  They  knew  that  Jesus  had  been  put 
to  death ;  they  had  fancied  themselves  permanently  deprived  of  His 
presence  and  help,  and  they  had  not  known  what  to  think  respecting  Him. 
But  when  He  stood  amidst  them,  once  moi'e,  after  He  had  risen,  a  sudden 
and  strange  revolution  took  place  in  their  minds.  They  saw  before  them 
Him  whom  they  had  revered  as  the  Messiah  while  clothed  in  hiiman  weak- 
ness, now  raised  to  an  unimaginable  glory  which  at  once  confirmed  and 
sublimed  their  former  faith.  They  saw  Him  victorious  over  the  grave, 
and  clothed  with  the  attributes  of  the  eternal  world.  In  a  moment,  the 
whole  sweep  of  the  truth  respecting  Him,  hitherto  only  half  realized,  had 
become  a  radiant  fact,  even  to  their  senses.  The  hesitating  and  imperfect 
belief  in  His  heavenly  dignity  and  power  to  fulfil  all  He  had  promised, 
here  and  hereafter,  which  had  slowly  rooted  itself  iu  their  hearts  while  He 
still  lived,  had  seemed,  after  all,  from  the  catastrophe  of  these  last 
disastrous  three  days,  a  fond  and  beautiful  delusion.  But  now  at  length, 
as  He  appeared  among  them,  triumphant  even,  over  death,  it  broke  all 
restraints  and  flooded  theu-  whole  soul  with  sacred  light  as  never  before, 
for  the  revulsion  from  despondency  to  the  purest  and  holiest  joy  gave  it 
additional  strength. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  effect  of  such  sights  of  their  Eisen 
]\raster,  on  the  minds  of  those  who  were  thus  favoured  with  them.  The 
whole  life  of  one  who  had  seen  Him  and  stood  near  Him,  perhaps  touched 
Him,  after  He  had  risen,  became  a  long  dream  of  wonder.  Such  an  one 
felt,  henceforth,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  commonest  occupations,  as  if 
Christ  were  still,  though  unseen,  beside  him ;  he  saw  Him,  as  it  were, 
radiant  before  his  eyes ;  he  seemed  still  to  hear  His  words  of  infinite  love, 
and  lived  in  habitual  communion  with  Him,  as  with  One,  hidden  it  might 
be,  for  the  moment,  iu  the  upper  light,  but  to  be  expected  as  a  visible  form 
at  any  instant.     We  see  this  in  every  page  of  the  Gospels  and  the  Epistles. 

Only  the  immeasurable  force  of  the  thought  that  the  Son  of  God  Him- 
self, the  true  glorified  Messiah,  had  appeared  to  them ;  not,  as  hitherto,  in 
the  veil  of  the  flesh,  but  in  a  heavenly  transfiguration,  victorious  over 
death ;  that  He  had  stood  among  them,  had  quickened,  and  inspired  them, 
perhaps  had  let  Himself  even  be  reverently  touched — could  have  created 
such  effects.  Henceforth,  he  only  was  recognised  as  an  Apostle  in  the 
fullest  sense,  who  had  seen  Him  in  His  spiritual  body  during  this  mys- 
terious interval,  when  He  seemed  ready  to  soar  to  heaven  as  His  riglitfnl 
home,  and,  though  still  on  earth,  was  no  longer  of  it.  Nothing  could  be 
more  amazing  than  the  result  of  such  a  sight  of  Him,  thus  glorified,  on 
the  Apostles.  From  despair  they  passed  at  once  to  triumphant  confidence; 
from  incapacity  to  believe  that  the  Messiah  could  have  suffered  as  He  had 
done,  to  the  most  fervent  and  exulting  faith  in  Him  as  the  Messiah,  on 
account  of  these  very  sufferings.  They  became,  suddenly,  men  into  whom 
the  very  spirit  of  Christ  seemed  to  have  passed ;  their  spiritual  nature 
had  been  wholly  changed,  and  they  were  bound  to  Him,  hcnccfortb,  with  a 
deathless  and  ecstatic  devotion. 


732  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

Tlie  appeax'ances  Touclisafed  during  the  day  of  the  Ke^urroction  bad 
now  ended.  On  the  part  of  the  priests  and  Eabbis  there  had  been  p;reat 
anxiety,  for  they,  as  vrell  as  the  discijiles.  liad  early  heard  the  riunonrs 
of  His  having  risen.  Some  of  the  ■watch,  after  having  fled  in  terror 
before  the  descending  angel,  had  come  into  the  city,  and  reported  what 
had  happened.  A  hasty  meeting  of  the  chief  men  of  the  party  had 
been  held,  and  the  whole  matter  laid  before  them.  Their  perplexity  was 
extreme,  but  at  last  their  Sadducee  leaders  invented  a  specious  story. 
Kot  believing  in  angels,  they  affected  to  think  that  the  soldiers  had 
been  frightened  away  by  some  clever  trick  of  the  disci]des,  who  had 
thus  got  possession  of  the  body  of  their  Master.  There  were,  indeed, 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  spreading  such  a  story,  but  it  would  be  fatal  if 
the  rumour  spread  that  angels  had  appeared.  The  peojde  would  naturally 
think  it  a  proof  that  Jesus  had  been  what  He  said  He  was.  and  they  would 
turn  to  Him  with  more  ardour  than  ever.  The  guard  were  therefore  in- 
structed, with  the  inducement  of  large  bribes,  to  say  that  they  had  fallen 
asleep,  and  foimd  the  body  stolen  when  they  woke.  The  hierarchy  were 
aware  that  it  was  death  for  a  sentry  to  sleep  at  his  post ;  but  removed 
this  difficulty  by  the  promise  that,  in  case  the  story  reached  the  ears  of 
Pilate,  they  would  explain  that  it  was  only  an  invention, to  keep  the  people 
quiet. 

A  whole  week  elapsed  before  the  next  manifestation  recorded.  On 
Sunday — known,  henceforth,  as  the  "  first  day  of  the  week,"  in  contrast  to 
the  Jewish  Sabbath,  the  seventh  day ;  and  as,  especially,  the  "  Lord's  Day  " 
—the  Eleven,  having  once  more  assembled,  as  they  had  done  daily  through 
the  week  and  continued  to  do,  Jesus,  honouring  His  resiu-rection  day,  once 
more  stood  in  the  midst  of  them.  Thomas,  known  as  Didymus,  or  The 
Twin,  had  not  been  present  on  the  Sunday  before,  and  in  his  gi'ave,  earnest 
way,  refused  to  believe  that  Jesus  had  risen  and  appeared  to  the  Ten,  with- 
out what  he  himself  deemed  indisputable  proof.  "  Except  I  see  in  His 
hands  the  prints  of  the  nails,"  said  he,  "aud  put  my  finger  into  them,  and 
put  my  hand  into  His  side,  where  the  spear-thrust  made  the  gash,  I  will 
not  believe."  Xo  one  could  desire  more  to  see  his  Master  again,  but  his 
temperament  demanded  what  he  thought  demonstration  of  so  amazing  a 
fact  as  the  rising  of  one  from  the  grave. 

On  this  first  Lord's  day  after  the  Eesurrection,  however,  his  doubts  were 
for  ever  dispelled.  The  disciples  had  gathered  in  their  common  room, 
which  held  at  loast  a  hundred  and  twenty.  The  doors,  as  before,  had  been 
carefully  closed,  for  fear  of  spies  from  the  Temple,  and  the  approaches 
were,  doubtless,  vigilantly  watched.  Suddenly,  however,  the  words 
"  Peace  to  jon"  were  heard  in  the  midst  of  the  company,  and  looking  up 
Jesus  stood  before  them.  He  had  not  been  near,  so  far  as  the  senses  could 
perceive,  when  Thomas  had  uttered  his  doubts,  but  He  knew  them  none 
the  less.  Turning  to  the  faithful  but  still  incredulous  one,  whose  presence 
there  showed  how  eagerly  he  wished  to  believe  the  transcendent  news, 
Jesus,  to  his  amazement,  addressed  him  : 

"Thomas,  thou  saidst  thou  wouldst  not  believe,  unless  thou  couldst  put 
thy  finger  in  the  wounds  of  my  hands,  and  feet,  and  side.     Eeach  hither 


THE  EESUBBECTION  AND  THE  FOETY  DAYS.      733 

thy  finger — here  arc  my  hands ;  and  react  hither  thy  hand,  and  put  it 
into  rny  side,  and  >>e  not  faithless,  but  believing." 

To  hear  his  own  words  thus  repeated  by  One  who  had  not  been  present 
when  they  were  spoken  ;  to  see  the  hands,  and  feet,  and  --ide ;  to  receive 
duch  condescension  from  One  who  he  now  felt  was,  indeed,  his  loved 
Master,  yet  no  longer  a  mortal  man  but  the  Lord  of  Life,  the  glorified 
Messiah  who  had  triumphed  over  death,  overwhelmed  him  with  awe.  Xo 
words  could  express  his  emotion.  He  could  only  utter  Ms  one  deepest 
thought,  that  he  had  before  him  his  Lord  and  his  God. 

"  lliomas,"  said  Jesus,  "  thou  hast  believed  at  last  because  thou  hast 
seen  me ;  blessed  are  they  who,  without  having  seen  me,  believe,  as  thou 
now  dost,  ttiat  I  have  risen  from  the  dead." 

Hitherto,  the  Eisen  Saviour,  in  all  His  appearances,  so  far  as  they  are 
recorded,  had  designed  to  prove  to  His  disciples  that  He  was  really  alive 
again.  Convinced  of  this,  there  was  much  to  say  to  them  of  "  the  things 
pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God,"  which  they  were  to  spread  abroad 
through  the  earth.  Before  His  death,  He  had  told  them  that  He  had 
many  things  to  say  to  them,  which  were,  as  yet,  too  hard  for  them  lo  under- 
.stand  or  receive.  These  He  had  now  to  communicate ;  for  what  would 
have  been  incomprehensible  before  His  sufferings  and  Resurrection,  was 
dark  no  longer,  when  seen  in  the  strong  light  of  the  cross  and  the  empty 
grave. 

He  did  not,  however,  mingle  among  them  and  live  in  their  midst,  as  of 
old.  They  apparently  expected  that  now  He  was  alive  again  on  earth.  He 
would  once  more  gather  them  round  Him,  and  stay  permanently  with  them, 
and  they  even  fancied,  that  surely  now  at  last  He  would  set  about  the 
establishment  of  the  earthly  kingdom  of  Israel,  to  which  they  so  fondly 
clung.  But  to  have  stayed  thus  familiarly  with  them,  was  no  longer  in 
keeping  with  His  glorified  immortality.  Till  they  too  had  put  on  incor- 
ruption.  He  was  separated  from  them  by  the  infinite  distance  and  differ- 
ence of  time  and  eternity.  They  belonged  to  the  former.  He  now  to  the 
latter. 

He  showed  Himself,  therefore,  to  them  in  such  a  way  that  they  could 
never  coimt  on  His  taking  up  His  abode  with  them  again,  as  in  former 
days ;  accustoming  them,  thus,  gradually  to  His  absence,  as  in  no  measure 
breaking  or  weakening  their  connection  with  Him.  He  hence  vouchsafed 
them  only  intermitted  appearances ;  that,  on  the  one  hand,  they  might  be 
in  no  doubt  of  His  really  having  risen  from  the  dead;  and,  on  the  other, 
that  they  might  become  familiar  with  the  idea  of  His  leaving  them.  He 
revealed  Himself  as  One  about  to  quit  the  world,  and  as  no  longer  belong- 
ing to  it,  but  delaying  His  departure  for  a  time,  for  their  good.  His  inter- 
course with  them  was,  thus,  almost  like  that  of  the  angels  with  their 
fathers  in  the  early  ages,  when  they  came  to  their  tents,  conversed  with 
them,  and  even  ate  and  drank  what  was  offered  them,  but  presently  left 
again  and  disappeared,  till  some  new  occasion  brought  them  back. 

Hence  we  are  no  more  told  the  place  of  His  stay  in  these  forty  days,  or 
of  His  journeys,  or  other  details,  as  otherwise  we  might  have  expected. 
He  appears  only  at  intervals,  and  we  have  no  trace  whence  He  has  come, 


734  THE   LIFE    OF   CHRIST. 

or  whither  He  vanishes.  He  does  not  travel  back  with  His  disciples  to 
Galilee  after  the  feast,  as  was  usual,  but  only  names  a  mountain  on  which 
He  will  meet  them.  They  never  ask  Him,  as  He  is  about  to  leave  them, 
whither  He  is  going,  or,  when  He  comes,  whence  He  has  done  so.  His 
whole  bearing  towards  them  was  like  that  to  Mary  of  Magdala — "  Think 
not  that  rny  Resurrection  restores  me  to  you  as  the  comiianion  of  your 
daily  life.  Rejoice  not  over  my  reappearance  as  if  I  were  to  stay  now, 
abidingly,  with  you.  I  go  to  my  Father  and  your  Father,  to  my  God  and 
yours." 

He  had  told  the  women  at  the  sepulchre,  to  say  to  His  disciples  that  He 
would  meet  them  ou  a  particular  mountain  in  Galilee,  and  He  doubtless 
repeated  this  to  the  company  when  in  their  midst.  The  most  of  them  were 
Galila3ans,  and  would  return  home  after  the  feast  week.  Galilee  had  been, 
moreover,  the  special  scene  of  His  labours,  and  of  His  success,  and  a 
greater  number  could  be  gathered  together  there  tlian  in  Judea.  Jeru- 
salem was  not  to  be  their  scene  of  action  as  yet.  They  could  not  begin 
their  great  Apostolic  work  while  their  Master  was  still  on  earth,  and, 
besides,  they  needed  not  only  many  counsels  before  He  left  them,  but  the 
power  which  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  v^as  not  yet  given,  could  impart.  When 
they  returned,  to  attend  the  Feast  of  Pentecost,  seven  weeks  after  the 
Resurrection,  they  would  receive  their  full  heavenly  consecration. 

The  future  was  still  unknown  even  to  the  Apostles,  and  hence,  though 
they  held  themselves  at  the  command  of  their  Lord,  the  interval  before 
He  required  their  permanent  service  saAV  them,  once  more,  at  their  former 
callings.  They  seem  to  have  had  no  idea  that  this  visit  to  their  homes 
would  be  the  last  they  would  ever  make  to  them  as  such,  or  that,  Avithin 
a  few  weeks,  they  Avould  remove  to  Jerusalem,  to  stay  there  for  a  time,  and 
then  wander  forth  to  all  lands,  and  see  their  native  country,  rarely,  or 
never  again.  But  the  long  attendance  on  their  Master  had  prepared  them 
for  finally  leaving  everything  for  Him,  and  had  fitted  them,  unconsciously, 
for  the  duties  that  lay  before  them. 

Simon  Peter,  Thomas  the  Twin,  Nathanael  of  Cana,  John  and  James, 
sons  of  Zebedce,  and  two  whose  names  are  not  given,  apparently  because 
they  were  not  Apostles,  had,  among  others,  betaken  themselves  to  the 
well-known  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Galilee,  and  had  quietly  resumed  the 
humble  occupation  familiar  to  most  of  them— that  of  fishermen.  They 
had  been  out  on  the  lake  all  night,  but  had  caught  nothing,  and  were 
rowing  dispiritedly  to  land  in  the  early  dawn,  when  they  saw  on  the  shore 
a  stranger,  whom  they  could  not  recognise  in  the  twilight  as  any  one  they 
knew.  It  was  nothing  strange  that  a  person  shovild  come  to  them  as  they 
were  landing,  to  buy  their  catch.  The  simple  habits  of  the  East,  moreover, 
made  it  common  to  sell  even  single  fish,  which  were  prepared  and  cooked 
on  the  spot,  in  the  open  air,  by  the  buyer.  They  thought  nothing,  there- 
fore, of  the  stranger  presently  asking  them,  with  a  kindly  familiarity  not 
unusual  in  antiquity  in  addressing  the  humbler  classes,  "  Children,  have 
ye  anything  to  cat?  "  as  if  wishing  to  buy  for  his  morning  meal.  "Nothing 
at  all,"  cried  the  fishermen. 

"  If  you  cast  your  net  once  more  on  the  I'ight  sida  of  the  boat,  you  will 


THE  EESURRECTION  AND  THE  FORTY  DATS.      735 

find  fish,"  said  the  stranger;  and  they,  thinking  perhaps  that  he  had 
noticed  a  shoal  they  had  overlooked,  were  only  too  glad  to  do  so.  But 
now  the  net  sank,  overloaded,  so  that  they  could  hardly  draw  it  after 
them  as  they  rowed  to  land. 

There  was  no  further  question  who  the  stranger  could  be ;  for  what  was 
this  incident  but  the  repetition  of  a  well-remembered  miracle  of  their 
Master,  almost  at  the  same  spot  ?  "  It  is  the  Lord,"  whispered  John  to 
Peter.  The  name  was  enough.  They  were  only  about  a  hundred  yards 
from  land,  but  the  ardent,  impulsive  Peter  could  not  wait.  He  was  stand- 
ing, naked,  in  the  boat,  after  having  swum  round  with  the  net,  to  sweep 
the  waters,  as  is  still  the  custom  on  the  Lake  of  Tiberias;  but  he  instantly 
drew  on  his  upper  garment,  and,  jumping  into  the  water,  swam  ashore,  to 
be  the  first  to  see  if  it  really  were  his  Master.  The  others,  meanwhile, 
were  slowly  pulling  to  the  beach,  and  presently  reached  it.  It  had  been 
bare  a  moment  before,  but  now,  strangely  enough,  they  saw  a  fire  burning, 
with  some  fish  on  it,  and  bread  at  hand,  as  if  the  stranger  had  intended 
them  for  Himself. 

"  If  you  would  like  to  eat  with  me,"  said  He,  "  bring  some  of  the  fish 
you  have  just  caught." 

Peter  had  not  dared  to  speak,  for  the  awe  of  his  Lord's  heavenly  great- 
ness, as  One  belonging  now  to  a  higher  life,  was  on  him.  But  he  instantly 
ran  to  the  boat,  dripping  as  he  stood,  and  di-agged  ashore  the  net,  which 
was  found  to  have  caught  a  hundred  and  fifty-three  large  fish,  without 
Ijeing  rent.  All  were  convinced  that  it  was  Jesus,  but  they  were  dumb 
with  amazement;  and  though  they  wished  to  ask,  their  fear,  and  their  very 
eyesight,  which  told  them  that  it  was  no  other  than  their  Master,  kept 
them  from  doing  so. 

They  had  sat  down  on  the  white,  dry  beach,  round  the  fire,  at  His 
invitation,  and  He  now,  once  more  as  of  old,  took  His  place  as  Head  of 
the  little  group.  Taking  first  bread,  and  then  the  fish,  He  divided  them, 
just  as  He  had  done  while  He  was  with  them,  and,  as  He  did  so,  Ilis  face 
and  bearing  were  so  exactly  what  they  had  been,  that  the  fear  produced 
by  the  suddenness  of  His  appearance,  and  the  nudefincd  difference  in 
Him  which  had  struck  them  at  first,  soon  abated.  His  every  word  was 
now  doubly  weighty,  and  hence  John  gives  us  a  more  than  usually  circum- 
stantial narrative  of  what  followed.  The  meal  being  finished.  He  turned 
to  Peter,  as  if  to  show  him  by  a  further  proof  how  entirely  his  shortcoming 
had  been  forgiven,  and  the  completeness  of  his  restoration  to  his  apostolate. 
He  commonly  called  him  Peter,  but  now  addressed  him  as  He  had  done 
three  years  before,  when  they  first  met,  and  only  once  since,  when  ho 
made  his  grand  confession  of  belief  that  his  Master  was  the  Messiah. 
"Simon,  son  of  Jonas,"  asked  He,  "carest  thou  for  me  more  than  my  other 
disciples  ?  "  "  Yes,  Lord,"  answered  Peter,  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  love 
Thee."  "  Go  and  feed  my  little  ones— my  lambs,"  replied  Jesus  ;  "  for 
love  to  me,  care  for  the  spiritual  wants  of  all  who  know  and  love  mc,  as 
a  shepherd  sees  that  his  flock  be  duly  fed."  The  same  question,  in  the, 
same  words,  was  then  repeated.  "Yes,  Lord,"  answered  Peter,  more' 
eagerly  than  before,  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  lovo  Thee."     "  Then,  tend  my 


COr! 


736  THE    LIFE    Oli"   CHRIST. 

sheep,"  ropliod  Joj;us.  "Not  only  uourisli,  but  caro  for  tlu'iii,  as  coinmitloil 
to  tliv  cliai-iie."  A  tliird  time  the  saino  quostiou  was  asked  — "  Siiium,  sou 
of  Jonas,  hnest  thou  luo  ?  "  The  tlireorohl  rojiotitiou  had  soniethiuL;;  iu  it 
tender  and  warnin;:;.  It  was  not  a  reproof,  yet  it  was  iUtiujj;  tliat  the 
disciple  who,  a  few  days  before,  had  thrice  denied  Him,  shouUl  be  niaik>  to 
think  as  often  of  his  weakness.  Peter  felt  it,  and  almost  thoui^ht  tliat 
.Tesns  doubted  his  trustworthiness.  "Lord,"  said  he,  "Thou  knowgst  all 
things;  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee."  "Then,"  replied  Jesus,  "feed 
my  sheep :  the  oversight  of  my  flock  is  thine,  to  see  that  they  are  fed." 

"  Hear  now,"  He  continued,  "  what  awaits  you.  A^'erlly,  verily,  I  say  to 
you.  Hitherto  yoii  have  girded  yourself  and  gone  whither  you  pleased,  and 
you  do  so  still ;  but  in  your  old  age  you  will  stretch  forth  your  hands 
helplessly,  and  will  give  yoursell'  up  to  others,  who  will  gird  you  with 
chains,  and  lead  you  off  where  you  would  fain  not  go  to  the  jilace  of 
judgment."  An  assurance  of  safety  for  the  present,  and  a  timely  warning 
of  what  the  futiire  would  bring  !  There  was  a  brief  pause,  and  then  the 
words,  "  Tollow  me,"  summoned  the  Apostle  onco  more,  as  of  old ;  but 
spoken  this  time  by  the  risen  and  gloritied  Saviour,  it  called  him  to  follow 
Him  in  a  martyr's  death,  and  then,  to  tlie  glory  beyond. 

Peter,  taking  the  last  words  literall)',  fancied  he  was  to  follow  his 
Master  as  before,  and  as  Jesus  seemed  now  leaving  them,  had  done  so  a 
few  paces,  when,  turning  round,  he  saw  John  coming  after  him.  Unwilling 
to  separate  from  one  endeared  by  long  companionship  as  a  fellow-disciple, 
he  therefore  ventured  to  ask,  in  hope  that  John,  too,  would  be  allowed  to 
come  with  them — "'  Lord,  what  Avill  this  man  do  ?  "  But  things  were  not 
as  in  old  days  of  common  familiar  communion.  "  If  I  should  please  that 
he  live  till  my  return,  why  should  you  seek  to  know  it  ?  "  i'e})lied  Jesus. 
"  From  you  I  require  that  you  follow  me  in  the  path  iu  which  I  have  gone 
before  you." 

St.  Paul,  about  twent^'-five  years  after,  mentions  another  appearance, 
which  was  no  doubt  the  same  as  is  related  more  fully  by  St.  Matthew.  It 
took  place  in  a  mountain,  appointed  for  the  purpose  by  Jesus  Himself,  as 
a  well-kno^Ti  spot  to  all.  Here  a  large  number  of  disciples,  including,  as 
we  know,  the  Eleven,  gathered  at  the  time  fixed.  It  was  a  moment  of 
supreme  solemnity,  for  it  was  the  close,  so  far  as  we  know,  of  Christ's 
ministry  iu  Galilee.  A  mountain  had  been  chosen,  alike  for  privacy  and 
because  all  who  might  come  woald  be  able  to  see  their  Master.  Over  five 
hundred  were  gathered  when  Jesus  appeared  in  their  midst;  some  of  them 
long  since  dead  when  Paul  wrote,  but  the  majority  still  alive.  With 
beautiful  frankness,  the  Evangelist  tells  us  that  some,  Avho  probably  had 
not  seen  Him  before,  still  doubted  a  miracle  so  stupendous,  but  they  were 
?o  few  that  he  could  say  of  the  multitude,  as  a  whole,  that  they  worshipped 
Jesus  as  their  Lord. 

Before  this  numerous  assemblage  Jesus  declared  Himself,  in  the  loftiest 
sense,  the  Messiah.  "  All  power,"  said  He,  "  is  given  me  in  heaven  and  in 
earth.  As  I  have  before  commissioned  my  Apostles,  so  now  I  commission 
you  all,  in  the  fulness  of  the  authority  thus  given  me,  to  go  into  the  wliole 
world,  and  annoance  to  all  men  that  I  live,  and  am  exalted  to  be  the   Lord 


TJlii    liE'SViUdECnOK    AND    THE    FOItTY   DAYS.  737 

and  the  Meesiah.  Go,  gather  disciples  to  me  from  among  all  nations,  and 
consecrate  them  by  baptism,  to  faith  in  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Spirit,  by  whom  God  will  speak  and  act  through  your  means.  Give  them 
the  commands  I  have  given  you  as  my  disciples,  and  urge  that  they  keejj 
them.  Nor  must  you  think  yourselves  alone  while  thus  working  in  my 
name,  for  lo,  I  am  and  shall  be,  with  you  always,  till  the  end  of  the  world." 
As  at  the  first,  so  now  at  the  last,  the  wokd  was  the  only  weapon  by  which 
His  Kingdom  was  to  be  spread.  Resting  on  peksl'asiox  and  cosvictio.n' 
from  the  beginning,  it  was  left  on  the  same  basis  now  He  was  about  to 
ascend  to  heaven. 

Only  two  or  perhaps  three  more  appearances  are  recorded — one  to  James 
alone,  aiid  one  to  all  the  Apostles.  The  last  known  meetings  with  the 
Eleven  took  place  immediately  before  the  Ascension.  It  was  the  Parting 
for  Ever,  so  far  aa  outward  and  visible  communion  on  earth  was  concerned 
— the  final  delegation  of  the  interests  of  His  Kingdom  to  them,  as  His 
chosen  heralds  and  representatives.  They  were  instructed  to  wait  in 
Jerusalem  till  the  promise  of  the  Father  was  fulfilled,  that  He  would  send 
the  Holy  Spirit  to  them,  as  their  Helper  and  Advocate,  in  place  of  their 
departed  Master — a  promise  which  Jesus  Himself  had  made  known  to 
them.  "  For  John,"  said  He,  "truly  baptized  with  water,  but  the  promise 
which  even  he  announced,  that  you  would  be  baptized  with  the  Holy  Spirit, 
will  be  fulfilled  before  many  days." 

'i'he  Apostles,  acquainted  as  they  were  with  the  Old  Testament  pro- 
phecies, which  foretold  that  the  fulness  of  the  Holy  Spirit  would  be  poured 
out  in  the  times  of  the  Messiah,  seem  to  have  fancied  that  there  was  an 
indirect  promise  of  the  establishment  of  the  Messianic  Kingdom,  as  they 
conceived  it,  in  these  words.  It  appears  as  if  an  interval  had  elapsed — 
apparently  only  a  part  of  the  same  day — between  the  appearance  at  which 
the  renewed  assurance  of  the  bestowal  of  the  Holy  Spirit  was  given,  and 
that  at  which  the  question  they  were  now  to  ask  was  put.  When  they 
had  come  together  again,  Jesus  once  more  stood  among  them,  and  then — 
60  hard  is  it  to  uproot  fixed  preconceptions  —they  resolved  to  find  out,  if 
possible,  whether  they  had  any  grounds  for  their  fond  hopes. 

"  Lord,"  asked  they,  "  wilt  Thou  at  this  time  restore  the  fallen  kingdom 
of  the  Israelitish  nation  ?  "  They  had  not  yet  received  the  illumination 
of  the  Spirit,  which  was  to  raise  them  at  once  and  for  ever  above  such 
narrow  and  national  views,  and  were  still  entangled  in  Jewish  fancies, 
which  regarded  the  Messiah  as  sent  to  Israel,  as  such,  for  its  earthly 
glory  as  well  as  spiritual  good. 

Jesus  would  not  answer  such  a  question.  There  was  much  in  their  ex- 
nectations  which  would  never  be  realized ;  yet  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  would 
really  be  the  true  setting  up  of  the  Kingdom  of  the  Messiah.  Of  its  final 
proclamation  and  full  establishment,  which  would  take  place  at  His  return 
at  the  last  day,  He  would  say  nothing.  It  lay  hidden  in  the  depths  of  the 
future,  and  was  of  no  advantage  to  them  to  know.  "  It  is  of  no  use  to 
you,"  said  He,  "  to  know  the  time  or  the  circumstances  of  these  great  re- 
volutions in  the  ages  to  come.  The  Father  has  kept  these  as  a  secret  of 
His  own  omniscience.     Be  it  enough  for  you  to  know  what  will  happen 


738  '1111':   i.ii''i';  oi'"  ciiijisr. 

immcdi.'ili-ly  on  my  ili>|i;iil  nro.  ^nii  w  ill  icci'i\  c  I  1h>  jkiwcM's  iif  Mio  Holy 
Spiril  in  I'irli  ini-!isiin>,  iiiul  inspiicd  liy  lln-sc.  iiiiil  |)r(-|iiircil  l>y  llicin  in  nil 
poiulis.  viMi  will  jA'o  I'oiili  iis  wiUu-sscK  for  int<,  nrul  ol"  my  r(\^iirr(H't.i()ii,  iiol, 
(inly  1(1  .l(MMisiil(>iu  iitid  ,lnil(-!i,  l>iit.  in  lisitod  Snnuiriii.  iind  to  \ho  IkmiIIhmi 
Ihi-dU^liiiiili  ilio  wli(il(i  rnrlh  ;  Tor  min(>  is  a  miivci'siil  kiiiiidom.  opt-n  (o  nil 
mnnkiml.  uillmnl  disMnclion  o\'  nwv  m-  nmU,  oi'  bond  \ir  Uco,  ol'  liiirl)!iri;iM 
1)1'  («r('i>k,  el'  .low  or  (<(Milili>." 

'I'liis  I.'ist.  inliM-vicw  liiid  (ak(Mi  |>l;n'(^  in  JcnisaKMU.  luit  llt>  litul  li>ft.  ib 
lii'l'oro  llo  closed.  loiidiiiix  thorn  out  (owiirds  BolliMtiy.  lli>  may  liavo 
walkinl  Mirougli  tho  well  known  si  ro(>ts.  voilod  froni  His  otiomios,  or  llo 
may  luivo  apiioinltMl  tli(<  nnM'ling-plact>  for  llu-m,  wIkmv  llo  had  so  ol'ton,  in 
His  histi  ditys.  ri>(.irtHl  in  Ihoir  roiupany.  Tlit^  plaoo  nyIhm-o  llo  assiMnblod 
Ihom  is  tiot.  niii\nl(<ly  tvoordod,  bnl.  wns  on  tl\o  Mount  of  (^livos.  It  ■WTia 
llu>  Inst  iinio  (Inn  wcro  (o  s(M-«  llim.  Ho  hml  pct^piirtMl  thom.  as  fivr  as 
(luMr  dnlnoss  m;vdo  possihlo,  for  His  h^jivinu;  Ihoni.  and  luid  littiMl  thoni  tii 
nroivo  tho  gift  ol"  (ho  8piri(,  whioh,  within  a  lew  days,  would  illinuinnlo 
thoir  intolloots  and  lioavls. 

]\o  wishod.  houovoc.  (o  l(-nv(>  (Ihmu  in  snoh  m-  wny  that  they  should  not 
tiiink  Hi>  had  sin\ply  vanishod  froni  tluMn.  and  wail  for  His  prosont.  V(>-ap- 
poaraiioo.  \\v  would  show  (Iumu.  as  I'ar  as  it  could  ho  shown,  that  ilo 
rcttifuod  fvon\  {\\o  vt\v{\\  to  His  Fa(h<M- ;  that  C!od  took  lliui  to  Hinisolf  as 
Wo  liail  (akoti  I'llijah.  Thoy  would  ho  ahlo  to  toll  ni<Mi.  wIumx  they  asked 
winu-(>  Wo  now  was.  that  thoy  had  soimi  Tfiiu  h\ivo  tho  world,  and  |iass 
through  th(^  skills  to  tht^  (Mor-nal  kingxhnns.in  His  human  body,  to  sit  down 
at  tho  right  hai\d  of  (unl.  The  tiiought — Hk  liyks;  Hk  is  with  tuk 
Fatmkh  !  was.  honooforth.  to  ho  tho  stay  and  joy  of  His  t'ollowors  in  all 
ages. 

Wo  kt\ow  n(i(  with  what  last  ]iarting  words  Ho  lot  thoiu  soo  Ho  was 
now  linally  to  loavo  thom.  All  that  is  told  us  is.  that  lie  gave  thoiu  His 
blessing,  with  nplil'tod  h.ands.  Stop  by  stop,  Ho  had  raised  their  cou- 
coptivins  nearer  tho  \n>spoakahlo  grandeur  of  His  true  nature  and  ■vxork. 
At  tirst  tho  Toaoher.  Ib^  had.  at'tiM-  a  time,  by  gradual  disclosures,  rovoalod 
llimsolf  as  tho  Son  of  luid.  veiled  in  tho  form  of  man;  and  now,  since 
His  orueitlxion  and  resurrect ioti.  He  had  taught  tliem  to  see  in  Him  the 
Messiah,  exalted  to  immortal  and  Divine  majesty,  as  tho  conqueror  of 
death  and  the  Tiorvi  of  all. 

Tho  transoondont  iniraole  which  closed  His  earthly  conimunion-with  His 
chosen  ones  is  most  fully  i\arrated  by  St.  Luke  : — 

"  When  Ho  had  sjiokou  these  things,  while  they  were  looking  at  Him.  Ho 
was  trtken  up  into  heaven,  and  a  cloud  received  Hinx  out  of  their  sight  '* — 
that  cloud  which  symbolirod  tho  prosouoe  of  God.  "And  as  they  were 
g!V7,ing  oartiestly  iiito  the  heavens,  as  He  absconded,  behold  two  men  srood 
by  thom.  in  white  apparel,  and  said  to  them.  *  Yo  n\en  of  Galilee,  why 
stsmd  y«  gazuig  into  tho  heavens?  This  same  Jesus,  who  is  oven  now 
Uvken  ium\  you  into  he.aven.  will  come,  in  tho  s.amo  waj-  as  ye  have  seen 
Him  go."  *' 

••  Karl h.  thou  grain  of  sand  on  the  shore  of  the  Universe  of  Gixi  ;  thou 
nothlohem  anvongst  the  princely  cities  of  the  hoavous ;  thou  .art,  and  re- 


THE    KKSUUKKCTION   ANI^   THJi   I'OJlTY   DAYS. 


7:}:i 


rnaincHt,  the  Lovod  One  arnongKfc  ten  thou«an'l  hijri«  and  worhla,  the  (^hf/ii«;n 
ot  God  !  Thoo  will  ife  a^ain  vinit,  and  then  thou  wilt  prepare  a  throne 
for  irirn,  aH  thou  gavc-nt  IJini  a  rnanger  cra'JIe;  in  Hin  ra^liant  glory  wilt 
thou  rojoifxj,  an  thou  didnt  onf;e  drink  ilin  \)\<)<><\  arid  Hin  U-unt,  and  rn'.nri, 
IL'm  death  I     On  thee  huB  the  Lord  a  great  work  to  complete  I  " 


-<^ 


r^ 


^?c^ 


/f  ^ 


FJXfS, 


QatkT  ft  Tuit>«r,  Tl>e  DcIwckkI  friutUg  Wurls,  rn«Be,  mvJ  U>ij/«r. 


Works  by  CUNNINGHAM  GEIKIE,  D.D. 


HOURS  WITH  THE  BIBLE; 

Or,  The  Scriptnres  in  the  Light  of  Modern  Discovery  and  Knowledg-3. 

Vol.     I. — From  the  Creation  to  Moses.  14th  Thousand, 

„       II. — From  Moses  to  the  Jcdges.  llth  „ 

„     III. — From  Samsok  to  Solomon.  llth  „ 
,,     rv. — From  Kehoboam  to  Hezekiah. 

^Vith  the  Contemporary  Prophets.  nth  „ 
„       V. — From  Manasseh  to  Zedekiah. 

With  the  Contemporary  Prophets.  Oth  „ 
„     VI. — From  the  Exile  to  Malacdi. 

With  the  Contemporary  Prophets.  8th  „ 

Each  Volume  complete  and  distinct   in  itself.     Handsomely  bound  in  cloth 
price  6s.  per  Volume,  with  many  Illustration«. 

Of  this   Seines  ProfeSSOP  DELITZSCH  says,— 

"  The  cLarming  and  attractive  fruit  of  unwearied  industry.  I  feel  it  an  honour 
to  have  my  name  connected  with  it." 

The  ARCHBISHOP  OF  YORK  says  — 

"  Must  be  useful  to  many  to  whom  a  regular  commentary  is  distasteful.     Nov 
withstanding  the  great  variety  of  its  learning,  it  is  simple  enough  for  any  reader 
of  ordinary  education.     It  is  a  book  which  I  shall  keep  near  me  for  use." 

The  ARCHBISHOP  OF  DUBLIN  says  — 

"I  have  found  in  these  volumes  a  very  large  amount  of  valuable  matter,  and  that 
not  seldom  new." 

The  BISHOP  OF  GLOUCESTER  AND  BRISTOL  says,— 

"  A  timely,  useful,  and  very  carefully  executed  work." 

The  BISHOP  OF  MANCHESTER  says,— 

"  The  product  of  much  careful  study,  written  in  an  interesting  style,  and  likely 
to  be  extensively  useful  to  the  large  class  to  whom  thoughtful  and  intelligent  study 
of  the  Word  of  God  is  a  matter  of  ever-increasing  interest." 

The  BISHOP  OF  BATH  AND  V/ELLS  says,— 

"I  feel  the  immense  importance  at  the  present  time  of  such  books  of  sound 
learning  and  truly  Christian  tone,  written  in  a  style  which  can  obtain  a  hearing 
from  a  large  audience." 

The  BISHOP  OF  DURHAM  says,— 

"  A  highly  instructive  and  interesting  work.'* 

The  BISHOP   OF  EXETER  says,- 

"Interesting,  learned,  and  able." 


London:    JAMES    NISBET    &    CO. 

1 


Works  by  CUNNINGHAM  GEIKIE,  D.D. 


Rev.  C.  H.  SPURGEON  says,— 

"  I  am  charmed  with  the  freshness  of  these  volumes,  and  have  learned  much 
from  them.     Dr.  Geikie  is  one  of  the  best  religious  writers  of  the  age." 

Professor  CARL  F.  KEIL  (Joint- Author  of  Keil  and  Delitzscii's 
•'  Commentary  on  the  Old  Testament  ")   sajs, — 
"  This  book  renders  a  service  to  Bible  readers  which  cannot  fail  to  gain  for  it 
the  blessing  of  God." 


SOME    PRESS    NOTICES. 
The  CHURCHMAN  says,— 

"A  work  beyond  criticism.  It  gives  the  concentrated  results  of  many  lines  of 
investigation,  and  is  in  itself  a  whole  library." 

The  CHURCH  REVIEW  says,— 

"  The  same  grace  of  style  and  profound  learning,  which  have  given  him  a 
position  higher  and  greater  as  the  author  of  the  "  Life  and  Words  of  Christ  "  than 
any  other  one  work  has  given  to  any  other  writer,  mark  the  "  Hours  with  the 
Bible." 

The  CHURCH  TIMES  says,— 

"  The  style  is  so  lucid  and  simple  that  the  closely  packed  information  can  not 
only  be  read  with  ease  by  any  ordinarily  educated  person,  but  will  readily  allow  of 
being  popularized  by  the  clergy,  in  the  shape  of  lectures." 

The  CHRISTIAN  WORLD  says,— 

"  Every  page  is  most  enjoyable  reading,  and  yet  charged  to  the  utmost  with 
Biblical  knowledge." 

The  ECCLESIASTICAL  GAZETTE  says,— 

"  Darkness  is  made  light,  and  crooked  things  plain,  under  Dr.  Geikie's  pen.  The 
illustrations  are  more  than  beautiful  pictures  ;  they  are  handmaids  to  the  text." 

The  HEBREW  says,— 

"  One  of  the  very  best  possible  manuals  to  aid  the  Bible  student  in  comjire- 
hending  the  Scripture  text." 

The  N.  Y.  TIMES  says,— 

"  They  furnish  the  general  reader  precisely  what  he  wants  to  know,  in  terms 
which  he  can  understand." 

The  N.  Y.  HERALD  says,— 

"  An  invaluable  addition  to  every  theological  library. 

The  CHRISTIAN  CHURCH  says,— 

"  Invaluable  to  the  Biblical  student,  and  to  all  intelligent  readers  of  the  Bible." 


London:    JAMES    NISBET    &    CO. 

2 


Works  by  CUNNINGHAM  GEIKIE,  D.D. 


The  English   Reformation. 

NEW   EDITION.    8s.  6(L 

The  BISHOP   OF   LIVERPOOL  sajs,— 

"  I  consider  it  tbe  most  valuable  compendium  we  have  of  useful  information 
about  a  most  important  era  in  English  history,  and  I  have  frequently  recom- 
mended it." 

The  RECORD  says,— 

"  Displays  a  mastery  of  facts  very  little  known,  we  fancy,  even  by  professed 
historians.     A  singularly  able,  very  enjoyable  and  valuable  book." 

The  CONTEMPORARY  REVIEW  says  — 

"  The  story  of  the  Rsformation  has  never  been  better  told  in  so  moderate  a 
compass." 

The  Rev.  Principal  REYNOLDS,  D.D.,  says,— 

"  The  result  of  extended  research,  and  written  with  a  masterly  skill." 


NEW   EDITION.     Price  3s.  6i. 

ENTERING  ON   LIFE. 

A   BOOK    FOR   YOUNG   MEN. 
DEAN  ALFORD  says,— 

"  Its  religion  is  of  the  very  best  kind.  Few  better  things  have  ever  been  written 
on  their  respective  subjects  than  the  two  chapters  on  Christianity  and  Helps.  We 
earnestly  recommend  young  men  to  read  what  has  been  to  ourselves  a  truly 
delightful  work." 

The  CHURCH  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  MAGAZINE  says,— 

"  Peculiarly  acceptable  to  young  men." 

The  LIVERPOOL  POST  says,— 

"  Few  books  of  a  religious  kind  are  more  masculine  in  their  tone,  or  show  a 
greater  power  of  bringing  to  bear  on  moral  subjects  a  wide  range  of  reading." 

The  Rev.  C.  H.  SPURGEON  says,— 

"  Deserves  to  be  read  again  and  again.  It  is  strong  with  argument  and  appeal; 
beautiful  with  fancy  and  figure;  tender  with  pathos  and  piety." 

The  PERTHSHIRE   CONSTITUTIONAL  says,— 

"  Every  page  is  full  of  beautiful  thoughts." 

The  SCHOOL  GUARDIAN  says,— 

"  Every  one  should  give  his  son  a  copy  of  this  book." 


London:    JAMES    NISBET    &    CO. 

3 


Works  by  CUNNINGHAM  GEIKIE,  D.D. 


NEW   EDITION.     Price  2s,  6tL  \^ 

THE    PRECIOUS    PROMISES. 

The  BISHOP   OF   MANCHESTER  says,— 

"  Has  given  great  comfort  to  my  aged  mother." 

The  BRITISH  QUARTERLY  says — 

"  Thouglitful  aud  strong,  and  keeping  close  to  the  religious  heart  of  the  mattci." 

The  CHURCHMAN  says — 

"In  sorrow  or  long-continued  illness,  or  any  other  time  when  mediation  ia 
sweet,  this  hook  is  admirable." 

The  PRESBYTERIAN   JOURNAL  says,— 

"  Evangelical,  practical,  comforting,  strengtheniug.''^^,^tfS***j  4  j^*"^-.^^ 

The  CHURCH  ADVOCATE  says,— 

"  It  will  bless  every  heart  that  reads  it." 


OLD    TESTAMENT    CHARACTERS. 

Uniform   ivith    ''Hours   ivith   the   Bible"    hut   an   entirely   Independent 

and  original  worh. 

One  vol'ime,  cloth,  6s.     With  many  Illustrations.     Very  suitable  for  a  present. 

The  SCOTSMAN  cays,— 

"  It  presents  in  readable  form  a  great  amount  of  Biblical  learning." 

The  GLASGOW  HERALD  says,— 

"  Of  every  Hebrew  notable,  from  Noah  to  Nehemiah,  we  have  a  graphic  and 
interesting  sketch,  and  along  with  personal  descriptions,  such  views  of  the  times 
are  introduced  as  throw  light  on  each.  Whatever  profane  history  or  archaeological 
discovery  furnishes  of  apt  illustration  is  utilized." 


London:    JAMES    NISBET    &    CO. 

4 


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